Medusa through the Patriarchal Lens: How a Mythical Woman became an Instrument of the Far-Right
(Trigger warning: includes mention of rape, sexual assault, and violent imagery)
Donning her iconic head of snake hair, Medusa’s prominence within the collective public imagination and her close ties to the hero Perseus establish her as a perpetually recognisable emblem of Greek mythology. The reception she has received across the centuries has resulted in a multitude of different Medusas, each adding another layer of nuances, contexts and individual interpretation to her multifaceted character.
Patriarchy’s historical longevity has had a discernible influence on how Medusa remains to be perceived today, despite the ground-breaking accomplishments of recent feminist scholars. As such, the misogynistic sentiments borne from human compulsions and religious dogma have resulted in a Medusa whose story remains a symbol of male victory over female threat.
Take, for example, the above image that circulated online during the 2016 American Presidential Election. It depicts a distorted replica of Benvenuto Cellini’s statue ‘Perseus with the Head of Medusa’, replacing those of the original figures with the faces of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Its simultaneous endorsement of Trump and derision of Clinton conveys an underlying ideology rife within the far-right of the United States: that as the inferior sex, women don’t belong in the realm of politics, and it is the male responsibility to silence them. Hence, Medusa’s varying and evolving appearance throughout history alongside her image’s capacity to be weaponised in ideological and societal contexts establishes the gorgon as a fundamental example of antiquity’s influence over contemporary ideas and its capacity to be utilised for political means in modern times.
‘A stoic Trump raising the severed head of a bug-eyed Clinton, her mouth agape in silent protest’ (1) — this is how The Atlantic’s Elizabeth Johnston describes this doctored version of Cellini’s statue, an image that blatantly depicts a US presidential candidate holding the decapitated head of another. Sparking indignant disgust amongst Democrats and encouraging an overt malice in Trump supporters, the reproduction was circulated widely on social media and subsequently printed onto clothing to be sold as merchandise.
This reaction contrasts greatly to the response Kathy Griffin received when she undertook a photoshoot holding a ketchup-covered Trump mask in response to a misogynistic comment he made regarding Megyn Kelly (2). The image was similarly circulated widely online, except it was met with profuse outrage from both sides of the political spectrum, resulting in the immediate collapse of Griffin’s career and her placement on a no-fly list (3).
The disparity between these two incidents is clear; Mary Beard argues that the ‘normalisation of gendered violence’ (4) evident in the commercialisation of the distorted Cellini image, demonstrates ‘the extent to which the exclusion of women from power is culturally embedded’ (5) alongside the ‘continued strength of classical ways of formulating and justifying it’6. Her words allude to the underlying significance of the creative decision to pervert a statue of two ancient mythical figures in order to communicate a modern political message. But why is this appropriation of antiquity seen to mitigate an implication of violence?
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is not only Hillary Clinton who has been subject to this ‘Medusa-fication’, indeed, the gorgon’s image has been frequently used to undermine female figures in the public eye, including the likes of Martha Stewart, Madonna and Oprah Winfrey. Nonetheless, the most pertinent comparisons remain those of women who step into the realm of politics; Nancy Pelosi and Theresa May have also been depicted donning snake hair in attempts to undermine their public standings (7).
These visual attacks on women convey an underlying sense of misogyny: the symbolism of Perseus beheading Medusa implicitly supports the patriarchal concept of male triumph over female threat. The best-known version of the myth was set forth by Ovid, who depicts Perseus recounting the tale from a first-person perspective to his companions at a feast. The narrative consequently presents the demi-god as a hero, whose valiant courage contrasts to the monstrosity of ‘dread Medusa’s visage’ (8) This tale has traditionally been perceived as the rightful killing of a threatening monster, thus the weaponisation of it to deride women who wield political power indicates a belief that women do not belong within the political sphere. This aligns with common far-right views that women are an innately inferior sex that should remain subjugated rather than empowered, with any display of political ambition or intellect considered a transgression of their societal role.
Whilst indeed demonstrating the enduring influence mythology has on present-day society, Image A’s significance is further illustrated by its capacity to simultaneously vilify Clinton and heroise Trump. Such famous iconography serves as a mitigatory barrier which distances the image from explicit violence and dissociates the depicted perpetrator from Donald Trump, instead raising him to semi-divine levels of heroism. Furthermore, the use of Cellini’s statue also softens its offense — a 16th century statue on display in Florence is deemed classical art, rather than an inciting of violence. Thus, by utilising its multitude of historical interpretations and responses, and supported by the patriarchal attitudes embedded within the societies that studied it, the artist exploits mythical iconography in order to promote a bigoted political endorsement.
Nonetheless, a ‘ ‘so-called’ democratic turn’ (9) is underway within classical reception, reflecting the widening social demographics that now have access to antiquity. Although an ‘embryonic debate’ (10), according to Lorna Hardwick, there is an increased desire to challenge established perceptions and interpretations of classical texts amongst modern scholars. Thus, centuries-old assumptions regarding the ‘inherent superiority of ancient works’ have been called into question, and the door to criticism has been opened wide (11) .Indeed, in a reality where Medusa’s image is used as a sexist political weapon, it all the more imperative we study antiquity and its resulting influence on society, ideology and patriarchy.
One such traditional interpretation of Medusa is demonstrated by the very statue the artefact distorts — a 1554 bronze sculpture Perseus with the Head of Medusa,11 by Italian Renaissance artist Benvenuto Cellini (12). The work echoes Mannerist paintings on account of its complexity and the elegant athleticism it emanates, presenting Perseus a semi-divine, heroic embodiment of masculinity. Furthermore, Cellini’s addition of a winged helmet and winged sandals emphasises the gifts he received from Hermes and Athene, highlighting their divine approval. The positioning of the statue places Perseus above Medusa, his feet stood on her lifeless corpse in a compelling image of defeat and victory. She is stripped of her power in Cellini’s celebration of her death, a distressing visual representation of the gender hierarchy.
The statue also holds a political function; commissioned for Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici and displayed in Florence’s Piazza della Signoria, it was installed alongside Michelangelo’s David and Bendinelli’s Hercules to represent the Republic of Florence. Perseus supposedly symbolises the collective Medici family heroically rescuing Florence as a justification of their immense power and influence over the city (13). Therefore, just like the artefact that subverts it, Cellini’s statue was created with political symbolism in mind, underlining the myth’s proclivity to be exploited.
The gorgon’s monstrosity is rooted in her earliest depictions, her original appearance far removed from the alluring femme fatale depictions often seen in contemporary popular culture. Her image amongst 6th century black-figure illustrations on terracotta pots depict a fearsome, non-human creature often with wings, horns, sharp teeth and a twisted grimace. Jane Ellen Harrison details that Medusa’s disturbing visage were displayed on the exterior of houses to discourage the homeowner from committing moral wrongdoings, whilst Judith Suther details that the image was used as a talisman on clothing, coins, and weapons long before Homer’s time. As such, Medusa’s countenance, or generalised Gorgoneia, was commonly used as an apotropaic symbol to ward off evil (14). Her terrifying appearance and the persistent threat she embodies categorises the figure firmly as a monster amongst these early works.
Monsters — fearsome, formidable, and mysterious creatures which were commonly hybrid in nature within Greek myth yet decidedly non-human — are a prevalent element of many cultures. For the bulletin of the Met’s 2021 exhibition Dangerous Beauty: Medusa in Classical Art, Kiki Karoglou infers they are humanity’s personification of their inherent fear of death and the unknown, and hence symbolise ‘innate human fears and anxieties, sexual aggression and guilt’ (15).
As time moved onwards through the 5th century and into the classical period, Medusa’s status as a female would lead her monstrous symbolism away from generalised human anxieties and towards gender-specific tensions and attitudes. As early as 450–40 BC, Medusa is depicted close to a human woman, albeit a pair of gigantic feathery wings that protrude from her shoulders. The terracotta pelike, attributed to Polygnotos, depicts the moment Perseus beheads the sleeping gorgon, whose countenance appears peaceful and feminised in stark contrast to the disturbing threat of her previous appearances.
Ovid immortalised this interpretation of Medusa in his 8 AD work Metamorphoses, as he writes: ‘beyond all others she was famed for beauty, and the envious hope of many suitors. Words would fail to the glory of her hair, most wonderful of all her charms’ (16). Ovid’s detail introduces a sense of irony into her subsequent transformation into the iconic snake-haired monster and presents Medusa’s former self as an attractive mortal woman whose rape by Neptune [Poseidon] in Minerva’s [Athene’s] temple leads to the loss of her beauty and virtue. Most likely introduced into her character to develop the character’s backstory and explain Athene’s opposition, her new-found beauty would transform Medusa into a detrimental allegory as the medieval period saw early Christian thought permeating Western ideologies, and danger and allure steadfastly becoming inextricably linked.
Indeed, throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the influence of religion and an increase in repressive ideals led to receptions of Medusa that perceived her as an embodiment of the dangerous power women wielded over men. David Leeming categorises her within the archetype of the ‘femme fatale’ (17) — a bewitchingly beautiful stock character who entraps men using her charms whilst harbouring a malevolent ulterior motive. Homer’s Circe and Calypso — magical and thus powerful women — can also be categorised as such, their entrapment of Odysseus a literal representation of the dangerous allure that they hold. Biblical women such as Jezebel and Eve are hence portrayed as sinful, their status as women heightening the malevolence ascribed to each. Leeming elaborates, arguing that the development of early Christianity resulted in the demonisation of feminine beauty, as it threatened the male soul’s advancement towards holiness (18). A quote commonly attributed to Saint Augstine warns: ‘it is still Eve the temptress that we must beware of in any woman’ (19), seemingly placing blame on women for his own desire and attraction, thus engendering pejorative associations of female sexuality that we still have today.
This attitude is evident in regard to Medusa, as an anonymous French 14th century commentary on Ovid describes her as: ‘putain…sage et cavilleuse / Decevable et maliceuse’, translating as: ‘whore…clever and callous / Deceptive and mischievous’ (20). The first word establishes the sexual connotations of this description; the derogatory term presents Medusa’s danger as erotic in nature, and thus she is attributed with a feminine power that poses a threat to Christian men as it destroys their closeness to God. The following adjectives imply sly, sinister motivations, demonising her further and conveying the contemporary belief that if men were tempted into sexual activity, they were victims of women’s evil. This serves as a compelling contradiction to the myth of Medusa, in which she is not the perpetrator but the victim of rape. The twisted interpretation of this by Christian commentators reflects the patriarchal societies that were prevalent at the time, in which the dominant ideology placed blame on women for non-consensual sex and viewed their beauty as temptation. Henceforth, feminine beauty would be associated with malevolence, and the seeds of the femme fatal archetype were sown.
Religion’s vilification of the entire female gender cemented interpretations of the Perseus and Medusa myth during this period as perceiving Perseus as the personification of virtue and divinity, juxtaposed against the evil sexual power of Medusa. Arnulf of Orleans goes to far as to determine that ‘Perseus. Another ‘son of God’, represents the victory of Christ over his enemy, Satan’ (21). Therefore, Leeming argues that these allegorical interpretations indicate that ‘the primary vice represented by Medusa is sexual temptation’ (22). As such, Medusa’s connection to misogyny is evident from the very genesis of its prejudiced ideas, as well as manifested in depictions of Medusa by the likes of Bernini, Canova and Gerhard; in these, her appearance is far removed from the terrifying Gorgoneia of antiquity, but humanised and emphasising her feminine beauty. These artworks also demonstrate how it has become commonplace for the Gorgon to be depicted as already beheaded, in turn suggesting that her image has increasingly evolved into a symbol of successful male victory over female threat.
If we then return to the original image, its symbolism thus presents Donald Trump as the suitable candidate to rid the political sphere of the threat of a female president. Yet, whilst Trump’s stern and resolute expression reflects that of Perseus in the original Cellini, Clinton’s is drawn into a sadistic scream. A major change to the original work, her expression more closely resembles those of the apotropaic Gorgoneia, monstrously reflecting Medusa’s layered and amalgamated reception through time. Trump’s depicted calm confidence only reinforces the sense of the masculine hero defeating the barbaric other, establishing him as a suitable leader for the far-right target audience. Clinton’s contrasting outrage exemplifies demeaning associations between women and hysteria, and reveals the prevalence misogyny retains throughout Western culture, remaining ever-present in our modern-day society and politics.
It may come as a surprise to find that another victim of ‘Medusa-fication’ is Trump himself, appearing as the gorgon in an illustration by Edward Segel in a 2016 article from Vanity Fair (23) Nevertheless, the image remains a reminder of Medusa’s association with misogyny: the image depicts a caricaturised Trump with snakes issuing from his head, each one inscribed with phrases such as ‘contractor lawsuits’, ‘net-worth exaggerations’ and ‘misleading claims about donations’, all referring to various aspects of his suspicious finances which had incited a media storm at the time of the article’s publication. These rumours threatened his chances of winning the election and caused intense scrutiny; the serpents aptly representing his apparent slyness.
Nonetheless, the comparison is not as derisively damning as that made with Clinton, as Trump with snake hair doesn’t convey the same underlying connotations of feminine evil that is present when women are
‘Medusa-fied’. Thus, viewing the illustration does not evoke the same sense of prejudice, because gorgon-related classical receptions which foster unfavourable societal views on men simply do not exist. Moreover, it is intriguing that the snakes are positioned as if preparing to attack Trump himself: although the gorgon’s features are depicted as his own, they remain in opposition to him. Medusa’s hair is presented as an inherently dangerous entity, and a lasting symbol of women’s threat to men.
Medusa’s relevance to modern politics has become only more pertinent in recent years. Growth of far-right attitudes alongside an increasing interest in mythology amongst feminists has established her as a polarising figure who can both inspire and deride women. Is the first picture therefore a political endorsement? A parody? A tool of rhetoric? A mere internet meme? An inappropriate caricature? Or a disturbingly bigoted weapon against women? It can of course be interpreted as all these things, but what remains alarmingly true is that ‘far from a passive process of reception, the past is being mobilised to enact a new future’ (24). Indeed, it is this
multifaceted weaponisation of iconic mythical figures by the Modern far-right that indicates that it is these complexities of classical reception that has made its study never quite so important.
- Johnston, E. (2016). The Atlantic. [online] The Atlantic. Available at:
https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/11/the-original-nasty-woman-of-classical-myth/506591/ - ibid.
- Sanders, S. (2019). Kathy Griffin: Life After The Trump Severed Head Controversy. [online] NPR.org.
Available at: https://www.npr.org/2019/04/23/716258113/kathy-griffin-life-after-the-trump-severed-head-controversy?t=1650901547254 - Beard, M. Women and Power, 2017, 77
- ibid.
- ibid.
- Johnston, The Atlantic
- Beard, 2017
- Hardwick, 2008
- ibid.
- Hardwick cites Hopkins, ch.10, 2008
- [1] Benvenuto Cellini’s sculpture, Perseus with the Head of Medusa (1545–54), located in the Loggia dei Lanzi of the Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy. Photo: Akg-images
- Mandel 1996
- Harrison, J. E. 1908, pp.187–188
- Karaglou 2017
- Ovid Metamorphoses, Book IV: 753–803,
- Leeming 2013, 30
- ibid. 33
- Bettenson 1972
- ibid.
- ibid.
- ibid.
- Vanity Fair, 2016.
Article written by Nicholas Shaxson, Illustration by Edward Sorel
Available at: https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2016/06/the-great-trump-tax-mysteries - Leonard and Prins 2010, 12
