Medusa's Laughter

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To the Ancient Greeks, >I embodied all that was dangerous with women. >They depicted me with skin of scales and snakes for hair, >and equipped me with the ability to turn all those who looked on me to stone. The same Greeks, inceptors of Western philosophy, hailed [[Perseus|Danae]] a hero for slaying me. It is, to be fair, an epic tale, one that has been told for many a millennium, but whose ''[[truth]]'' has been lost in //translation// and //[[transcription]]// by men. I am [[Medusa]]; this is my story.

On the day my monstrous reign is sworn to have begun, I was walking towards the temple. It was a beautiful day, if slightly warm, and I dipped into the sea before entering the temple. I did not, you see, want to defile Athena’s temple with sweat from the trek. My sweat washed away, I was putting on my chiton and peplos when a man walked towards me on the beach. I smiled, but quickly made my way to the temple. I could hear his footsteps behind me. Relief flooded me as I entered the temple. No man would dare desecrate a woman in the temple of Athena – Athena the [[just]], the [[wise]], the virgin goddess.

I lived in a valley near Mount Helicon with my sisters Stheno and Euryale. Our home was a cave near a meadow and the sea, the closest city was Thebes. My immortal sisters were often together, while I was alone in my mortality. Travelers, mortals both male and female, would pass through our lands we called home. My sisters were free to be with whoever they chose, for there were no physical repercussions for having sex with a mortal. My sisters could not be [[overpowered|Sisters]] by a mortal man; I could. They could not be [[impregnated|Danae]]; I could. And they could fall in love, but eventually time would consume their companion, and they would again be free to behave as they chose. Stheno was tall, lithe, and winsome. Her hair fell in black waves to the small of her back. Her eyes were like emeralds, treasure troves of love and desire. Euryale was her opposite, short without a straight line to her body, and light blond hair that seemed to hold the sunshine and spread its warmth. Her eyes were dark, a rich brown almost black, and through them she promised to make up for all one seemed to lack. I was somewhere between them. My hair was long, a dark brown turned light from the sun. My skin was dark from the sun, and my eyes made up of the browns and greens from the meadow we lived in.

//To Athena’s Temple one morning I went, A morning that I will always repent. I was followed, inside, by the god of the sea. And cried out to [[Athena]] as Poseidon raped me. Had he asked for consent, I would have said no. But men did not ask, [[for they had all control|Danae]]. Her statue watched me, with eyes white and cool. And I lay there after, at her feet in a pool.//

The man entered the temple. He told me he had seen me bathing in the sea, >was captivated by my body, >>wanted to wrap himself up in my hair >>>and get lost in my eyes. I thanked him for his compliment, unnerved by our solitude and aware of his power. I looked to Athena and her statue gazed on, fierce and protective. Emboldened, I asked him for a moment with the goddess alone, and he sneered. He could never understand the people’s obsession with Athena, he scoffed. When I tried to tell him that she was just and wise, he raged, for [[Poseidon|Medusa's Parentage]], one of the original Olympians, was through being [[passed over|lost Athens to Athena]] by mortals for Athena, his niece. He asked me to make up for the [[insult]] with a kiss. I said I would rather not in the temple.

//Decades ago, in Thebes far from here, Danae was imprisoned for her father’s fear. An oracle promised Acrisius’s daughter, Would give birth to a son that would murder her father. So, he locked her away, high in a tower, Believing he’d outwitted the oracle’s power. But Zeus was above, an eagle soaring, And through Danae’s window he came pouring, In a shower of light, with gold all around, He raped her on her own prison ground. Zeus was fertile, and Danae was young, And she gave birth to a beautiful [[son|Danae gives birth]].//

//"A donkey, too, is killed for the countryside's stiff guard [Priapos (Priapus)]. The cause is shameful, but it suits the god. You were holding, Greece, the feast of grape-crowned Bacchus [Dionysos], celebrated by custom each third winter. The gods who serve Lyaeus [Dionysos] also attended and whoever is not hostile to play, namely Panes and young Satyri (Satyrs) and goddesses who haunt streams and lonely wilds [Naiades and Dryades]. Old Silenus came, too, on a sway-backed donkey, and the red-groined terror of timid birds [i.e. garden statues of Priapos functioned as scarecrows]. They discovered a grove suitable for party pleasures and sprawled on grass-lined couches. Liber [Dionysos] supplied wine, they had brought their own garlands, a brook gave water for frugal mixing. Naiades were there, some with hair flowing uncombed, others with locks artfully coiffured . . . Some generate tender fires inside the Satyri . . . But red Priapus, the garden's glory and protection, fell victim above all to Lotis. He desires her, he wants her, he sighs for her alone; he nods at her and pesters her with signs. Disdain defines the pretty, beauty is trailed by pride : she teases and scorns him with her looks. It was night. Wine induced slumber and prone bodies lay everywhere, conquered by sleep. Lotis rested furthest away, tired from partying, in the grass beneath some maple branches. Her lover rises and, holding his breath, tracks secretly and silently on tiptoe. When he had reached the snow-white Nympha's secluded bed, he took care his breathing was soundless. And now he was poised on the grass right next to her, and still she was filled with a mighty sleep. His joy soars; he draws the cover from her feet and starts the happy road to his desires. Then look, the donkey, Silenus' mount, brays loudly, and emits untimely blasts from its throat. The terrified Nympha leaps up, fends Priapus off, and awakens the whole grove with her flight. And the god, whose obscene part was far too ready, was ridiculed by all in the moon's light. The author of the clamour [the donkey] was punished with death. He's a victim dear to Hellespont's god."// Ovid, Fasti 1. 391 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) http://www.theoi.com/Georgikos/Priapos.html Will you pardon my digression? [[Thank you|harm]]

//When Acrisius found she’d born a child, He wanted them dead, but she only smiled, Warning Zeus was the father of Perseus, And his death would make Zeus furious. And angering the gods was never wise, So another plan he did devise, More worried about his longevity, Than the fate of his own progeny. He built a large chest of solid wood, And threw the two in, locking it good, He arrogantly dumped it into the seas, Where the chest was found, and quickly seized, And Danae was saved, as was her son, By Dictys, as Seriphos fisherman. Dictys learned who they were, and offered a pact, [[Danae married him]] or they’d go back. So she did what she had to so they’d survive, Becoming to Dictys an obedient wife.//

Dictys raised Perseus as his own; but, for all the love and care he showed Perseus, Danae was shown none. He fished and drank; she worked day to night, cleaning, cooking, ensuring she was always pleasing to look on, and Perseus learned this was a woman’s role. However, Dictys was not only a fisherman, but brother to the king of the island, Polydectes. Many evenings in the ensuing years found Polydectes at his brother’s rough wooden table, paying respects to Danae, bringing her compliments and flowers, and asking her opinion on island matters. >>Those evenings would end with Dictys angry, >>turning to [[drink to drown]] his rage, >>but it only served to stoke the flames, >>and when his brother would leave, >>Dictys took out his fury on Danae >>most vigorously.

The years passed, and drink has a way of catching up with a man, and eventually Dictys was found dead. Only Perseus truly mourned the man’s passing. Free from the agreement she had made with Dictys, Danae gladly accepted when Polydectes proposed. To Perseus, this was a blatant betrayal of the man he believed was his father. Invitations were sent across the island, inviting all to celebrate Polydectes and Danae’s nuptials. Perseus swore to his mother he wouldn’t attend, and desperate, she finally told him the truth of his origins – he was the [[son of Zeus]], not a fisherman.

Moved by the truth and his mother’s tears, Perseus relented and agreed to join the feast. It was there, without the belief of betrayal coloring his vision, that he recognized the truth of his mother’s relationship with Polydectes was one of mutual respect and love. The rest of the guests had brought gifts fit for the occasion. Perseus was ashamed, both in his treatment of his mother and his lack of a gift for the couple. Embarrassed and freshly full of pride, Perseus declared the gift of a [[heroic quest]], one that would prove he was the best, and would put to shame the gift of every other guest, while mollifying his wounded pride.

//The Ancient Greeks called my sisters and I the three Gorgons. Stheno and Euryale were immortal, like their mother, Echidna, and father, Typhon - my parentage was less clear. It was possible I was truly their sister, but there were whispers that I was actually born of Phorcys, the primordial sea god, and Keto, the primordial goddess of all that was dangerous on the sea, and parents to Echidna and Typhon. It does not matter who my parents were, for it doesn’t change my story.// If I am in fact the daughter Phorcys and Keto, if my parents were the gods that Poseidon replaced, can we understand him raping me as him asserting he is a qualified god to rule the seas? Does it even //matter// what his [[reason|Athenians]] was?

Poseidon and Athena were in a contest to win the position of Patron God or Goddess of Athens. >Poseidon gave the Athenians a sea - its saltiness caused saltiness on the Athenians' part, which in turn made [[Poseidon|Medusa's Parentage]] //salty//. >>Athena planted an olive tree, which provided the Athenians with the olives that went into the oil for which they were famous. http://151.12.58.141/virtualexhibition/contest.html It shouldn't matter how ''//salty//'' Poseidon was about losing to Athena so long ago. Why would he think it was OK to use me to ''object'' to his loss? Does it even //matter// what his [[reason]] was?

It doesn't matter, whatever his reason. >Either his ''object'' in punishing me was to punish my parents, or to punish his niece for being chosen over him for bequeathing the [[Athenians]] with olives.

He bent me over the alter in front of Athena. As Poseidon raped me, his thrusts rough and anger-driven, Athena’s statue watched me, her eyes white and cool. He finished, and left me. I crawled to the shallow pool between the altar and [[Athena]], desperate to wash his touch and seed from my body.

//And this is the point in the story they miss, I was not made a monster; my hair didn’t hiss. Athena cried with me then, her eyes fierce and grey. And it was not a punishment, she gave me that day. Tears still on her cheeks, and vengeance in heart, She brought me to my feet, looked me over as art. I stood for a moment, unsure what was promised, And as I gazed down, began crying in earnest. “Athena, my goddess, you are both just and wise. Is there a way, you, my looks could disguise? Not once has a man ever looked for my soul, Judging me only as body and not as a whole.” Athena’s eyes softened, in owl-like stare, And spoke before I could further despair. “Let those who look upon you, and ignore what’s within, Be punished by their own [[priapic transgression]]. May your body be all they could hope to desire, Your hair, eyes, and lips adding flame to the fire. In this crime against women, for that’s what has been done, May you represent all and never be one.” I raised up my eyes, unsure what she meant. I had faith in the goddess, it still was unbent. “But what do you mean, I’ll never be one? And how does this help in what has been done? If I inspire desire, more now than before, I’ll be more at risk to be used as a whore!” And owl-eyed Athena wrapped Medusa in her arms, “I promise you, child, they won’t bring you [[harm]].”//

In the first days of my new embodiment, there was no opportunity for me to understand what Athena had done for me. I had made my way across the meadow >>>to a cave near the sea, >>>>>>and hid there hoping to [[heal]] the physical and emotional trauma.

Little did I realize that the emotional wounds would last far longer than the physical. I was alone for weeks, eating only fruits from the nearby trees. One day, as I was walking the line between meadow and shore, I followed the bend and [[saw]] a fisherman.

He had just tied his boat to a tree by the shore, when he heard my approach. ==I stilled as memories of the last man I saw lit a path across my body, and h== He straightened. //In moments, his swarthy skin lost all its color, replaced instead by a stony pallor, and his hand was frozen forever in a wave.// Amazed, I stepped closer to the man. All trace of his previous humanity was gone, and standing at painful attention from the front of his stony chiton was a raging erection, glowing red. I ran from him them, back to the cave, to try to make sense of what I had just witnessed. Days later my sisters found me, Stheno and Euryale begging me to leave the cave and rejoin them. But I ''feared'' what would happen if my sisters saw me, and told them to look at the statue by the sea, as evidence for why I should no longer be seen. But, there is more to [[my story|Danae]] than how I became the [[monster|brave]] who turned men into stone.

Often my sisters invited me to join them in acquiring travelers, but I declined. Instead of meeting the travelers, I followed them, learned about their wants and desires, likes and dislikes, always hidden from them. I would take what I learned and make my way to Athena’s temple at the edge of the valley near the sea to seek understanding. Athena’s [[temple|truth]] was composed of white marble, with graceful ionic columns supporting it from without. Within it was pristine and white, with a large sculpture of Athena holding court near the front of the temple, and friezes along the sides spreading ancient myths long forgotten.

Athena watched as Perseus walked down a dusty road, and joined him. When his awe subsided, he told her what had propelled him on his search for a heroic quest. Slightly impressed by her half-brother’s growth, for it was ''slight'', she offered him a possible quest. She told him of rumors brewing about a monster woman that lived in a cave, who turned men into stone with a single gaze. However, she told him, if he wanted to assure his victory in the quest, he had best [[visit the three sisters Graeae]], and gave him their brother Hermes’s winged sandals to carry him to their home.

Perseus arrived where the Graeae lived, and was met by the sisters who saw all. Their visions in time had changed how Deino, Enyo, and Pemphredo appeared, >their bodies now those of swans >>with the heads and faces of ancient, yet fair-cheeked women. Among the three one [[eye]] was shared, allowing only one sister to view time at a time.

//Maybe if Perseus had been raised by another, Or if Polydectes had first found his mother, He would have treated the Graeae with respect and kindness. Instead, he resorted to trickery and violence, And stole the sisters’ eye, //Isn’t he a heroic guy?// He ransomed it for my location, And the tools for my decapitation. So, they told him what he wanted to hear, Instilling in him a deeper fear, And with sword, shield, and cap and winged sandals, And confident that myself he could handle, He flew towards my cave, His newest trappings making him [[brave]].//

And this is where my story and his story [[collide]]. I had learned to become aware of people in my surroundings - one does that when they turn anyone to stone that they happen look upon. Outside my cave, the meadow and shore were dotted with statues of those who once were once men and women – people who saw me first and approached as if under a spell. The statues of women had taken on a greenish tinge, while those of the men were marked by a glowing red priapism. I had long ago given up understanding what Athena had gifted me with, and instead turned my thoughts to poetry and art, crafting verses and lives for my petrified companions. Scrolls and art filled my cave, presents from Athena. But I was lonely. I missed my sisters, missed walking freely, missed conversating and [[seeing and being seen|Perseus arrives]].

“Listen to a woman speak at a public gathering (if she hasn't painfully lost her wind). She doesn't "speak," she throws her trembling body forward; she lets go of herself, she flies; all of her passes into her voice, and it's with her body that she vitally sup- ports the "logic" of her speech. Her flesh speaks true. She lays herself bare. In fact, she physically materializes what she's thinking; she signifies it with her body. In a certain way she inscribes what she's saying, because she doesn't deny her drives the intractable and impassioned part they have in speaking. Her speech, even when "theoretical" or political, is never simple or linear or "objectified," generalized: ''//she draws her story into history.//''” >>- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[back|Perseus arrives]]

I was alerted that morning by a noise outside the cave of Perseus’s presence. He was walking among and studying the statues. I shielded my eyes to study him, >hiding in the shadows, >>delighted that another was near >>>and I hadn’t turned him to stone. From meadow to shore, he wove his way through the many statues, touching them, shuddering, staring at them in revulsion and horror. And, as he was nearing the entrance of the cave, he came upon one of the more generously endowed statues, whose [[priapism|priapic transgression]] was quite large, and glowed quite red. Perseus’s eyes widened, and I watched as he compared his endowment with the that of the man who was nothing more than an [[idol]]. The absurdity of it brought laughter to my lips, [[bubbling up and overflowing]]. The first drop of [[laughter]] sent Perseus running.

“As a woman, I've been clouded over by the great shadow of the scepter and been told: idolize it, that which you cannot brandish. But at the same time, man has been handed the ''grotesque'' and scarecely enviable destiny (just imagine) of being reduced to a single idol with clay balls. And ''consumed'', as Freud and his followers note, by a fear of being a woman!” (884) >>- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[shall we laugh at this mindset?|laughter]]

“I, too, overflow; my desires have invented new desires, my body knows un-heard-of songs. Time and again I, too, have felt so full of luminous torrents that I could burst – burst with forms much more beautiful than those which are put up in frames and sold for a stinking fortune.” (876) >>- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[Let's laugh at the next person who attempts to pigeonhole us or repress our desires!|laughter]]

And Athena greeted her brother then, Asking what sent running such a heroic man. And Perseus, still shaking, was not quite sure If this [[laughing monster]] could easily be conquered. Athena the just, Athena the wise, Laughed at her brother who feared his demise. “We study the enemy before going to war, So, [[study Medusa]] a little bit more.”

“You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing” >>- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[back|study Medusa]]

Perseus studied the cave for days. He was desperate to see the ''monster'' that couldn’t be seen, but only ever saw me. On the third night, he was awakened by a shower of golden light. Out from the auric cascade stepped his father, Zeus. >There were no father-son greetings, >no apologies for the rape of Danae, >or the absence in Perseus’s life. Zeus only told Perseus that as a demi-god descended from him – both immortal and male – the world was Perseus’s and his victory was assured. As the golden light ascended and [[darkness set in]], Perseus sat alone and [[felt confident]].

The next day Perseus decided to approach the cave, despite having not seen the monster. He had a plan: >1. capture the girl, >2. force her to tell him all she knew, >3. then [[conquer the Medusa]]! He wound his way through the statues, using them as cover. He says as he moved closer to the cave, he must have heard me talking to the many statues, and raised his shield to protect himself from my gaze. He says that he saw me that day, and wondered if at the end of his quest he would get to keep the girl.

“Look at the trembling Perseus moving backward toward us, clad in [[apotropes]].” >>- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893.

''ap·o·tro·pa·ic'' (ăp′ə-trō-pā′ĭk) //adj.// ''Intended to ward off evil: an apotropaic symbol.'' [From Greek apotropaios, from apotrepein, __to ward off__ : apo-, apo- + trepein, to turn; see trep- in Indo-European roots.] ap′o·tro·pa′i·cal·ly adv. American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fifth Edition. Copyright © 2016 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved. [[continue on, unafraid|darkness set in]]

He returned the next day, and moved closer, faster. I was debating the ending to my latest story when I saw his shield this time, and the way the sunlight reflected off it’s perfect shine. I knew, if he hadn’t turned to stone, I could approach – [[so I did]].

//And that is when I met our hero, Hiding behind his shield of mirror. I saw myself for the first time, And I myself was nearly [[blinded|Perseus kills Medusa]]. I was black and white, and brown and red, and yellow scales from toe to head. My eyes were not a fiery red, But changing in a constant blend Of brown and green and grey and blue, Never settling in one hue. And the hair upon my head was silent, Though its movement really was quite violent, As curls and waves straightened and writhed In mimicry of the snakes as it was described.// I was [[beautiful|Cixous wholes]]. >Dispersed. >>Prodigious. >>>[[Stunning|Medusa asks to be killed]]. >>Of all desirous.

I watched, disbelieving, still enchanted by my reflection, as Perseus drew the sword from his back. In an arc that seemed to take an eternity, it swung towards my neck. [[Connected]].

I understood then. What Athena had gifted me with was supposed to be a protection. I [[contained]] the existence of every woman.

As my head flew from my body and rolled on the ground, I watched as the [[products]] of that day in the temple flew from my body.

Pegasus was a shining white horse, immortal, powerful, clean. Everything I had hoped to be. Chrysaor was dark and boorish. He sprung from my neck with a golden sword in hand, and walked away to [[conquer]] the world.

Perseus gifted my head to his sister as thanks for showing him to [[the monster]] that would satisfy his need for a heroic quest.

When a man or a woman looked at me only as a body, objectified me and ignored what I could have within, they were turned into that which they tried to make me. The Olympians were always dreadfully clever with their punishments. And that’s what I was: used to exact a punishment on all who [[objectified]], reduced to a tool in my freedom.

Tears filled my eyes, blurring the beauty that I [[embodied]]. I begged Perseus to kill me, and he refused from the cover of his shield.

But finally I [[overcame his objections]], by threatening to turn him into one of the very statues he was using for protection until he freed me from the objectionable life.

Before I died, I asked him to pass a [[message]] to Athena.

"If their aim were simply to reverse the order of things, even supposing this to be possible, history would repeat itself in the long run, would revert to sameness: to [[phallocratism|conquer]].” (33) >>- Luce Irigaray - "This Sex Which Is Not One" Irigaray, Luce. "This Sex Which Is Not One." //This Sex Which Is Not One.// Cornell University, 1985, pp. 23-33.

Perhaps you find yourself unsatisfied with this ending. It's abrupt. It doesn't answer your questions. It doesn't tell you if Perseus changed, became a better man. ''Tough''. If you want to know the rest of his story, go read some mythology. If you don't think you got the whole story, you can always read it [[again|Start]].

“If she is a whole, it’s a whole composed of parts that are wholes, not simple partial objects but a moving, limitlessly changing ensemble, a cosmos tireless traversed by Eros, an immense astral space not organized around any on sun that’s any more of a star than the others.” (889) >- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[back|so I did]]

“By writing her self, woman will return to the body which has been more than confiscated from her, which has been turned into the uncanny stranger on display – the ailing or dead figure, which so often turns out to be the nasty companion, the cause and location of inhibitions.” (880) >- Hélène Cixous ... "Laugh of the Medusa" Hélène Cixous , Keith Cohen , and Paula Cohen , "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (Summer, 1976): 875-893. [[Tell me more...|Medusa]]