No man or monster has slithered their way
into our hearts quite like the snake-haired
seductress with the obsidian stare.
That’s right.
Today we’re talking about the OG—the Original
Gorgon herself: Medusa!
With a gaze that can turn men to stone, she
has been terrorizing and petrifying humanity
for thousands of years.
I know what you’re thinking: ‘I know Medusa.
I’ve seen the movies.' But do you really?
Let’s find out!
I'm Dr. Emily Zarka and this is Monstrum.
Medusa’s history dates back all the way
to the eighth century BC and the works of Homer.
Homer writes that the warrior Goddess Athena
arms herself with an aegis
that bears a “Gorgon head.”
What’s an aegis?
A piece of clothing.
But also a shield.
It’s not entirely clear.
But we do know, the Gorgon is a quote “fearful
monster, fearful and terrible,” according
to Homer in both the Iliad and the Odyssey.
What’s a Gorgon you ask?
According to Greek mythology the Gorgons were
the three daughters of the sea gods Phorcys
and Ceto.
Greek poet Hesiod described Medusa
and her sisters as women with snakes hanging from their belts.
Greek scholar, Apollodorus, described the Gorgon sisters as having scaled heads,
large tusks and golden wings.
He also adds one other crucial detail: Medusa
loses her head at the hands of Perseus, the
half-god offspring of one of Zeus’ many
... uh ... Dalliances.
Armed with a sickle made of adamantine and
a helmet that turns him invisible, Perseus
sneaks up on the sleeping Gorgons, using his
shield as a mirror to avoid looking Medusa
in the eyes before he chops her head off.
And here’s another fun fact: According to
legend, when Perseus gives Medusa the old
Marie Antoinette, two children spring forth
from her body: Chrysaor and Pegasus.
That’s right!
The winged-horse on your Lisa Frank Trapper
Keeper is the son of a snake-hair monster
and the god of the sea.
Go figure.
So at this point we know three things about
Medusa: She’s a she.
She’s not much to look at.
And she keeps losing her head.
Fast forward to the first century BC and the
Roman poet Ovid decided to reboot
the Medusa franchise with his own origin story.
And things get a lot darker for Medusa.
In Metamorphoses, Medusa is beautiful with
lovely flowing, long hair.
One day, the god Neptune finds her in a temple
dedicated to Minerva and rapes her.
Minerva punishes the outrage, by transforming
Medusa’s hair into serpents.
And with that, the modern Medusa takes shape.
She’s got snakes for hair and a real problem
with eye contact.
There are a few theories on Medusa’s origins
and how her story has evolved...
One theory claims that the “Gorgon” was
really just a gold statue of Athena that Perseus
steals from three sisters.
Another theory has Medusa as a Libyan queen
defeated by the Greek Perseus who takes her
head to show off how beautiful she was…
But why the strange power to turn men into
stone with just a gaze?
In my mind, the most plausible explanation
is that the mythological idea of being ‘turned
to stone’ originates with ancient Greeks
trying to explain the existence of prehistoric
fossils - bones that had literally turned
to stone.
We know how fossils are formed now, but for
the Ancient Greeks, stories were a way to
explain what they found.
And this brings us to the stoney heart of
the matter: Why is Medusa female?
That is where things get much more complicated.
From the Ancient Greeks to the Middle Ages,
she was a sign of protection.
Shields and temple doors were adorned with
images of Medusa, a face with a protruding
tongue, wide eyes, and fangs.
She served as a warning.
It was during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance
that Medusa moves from terrifying monster
to predatory, seductive woman.
Through a Christian lens, Medusa was seen
as vice incarnate—as a symbol of a woman’s
power to lead men astray.
Perseus is reframed as a symbol of virtue,
triumphing over Medusa.
So, a victim of sexual assault becomes a predatory
sexual being.
But it’s in the 19th Century that Medusa,
with a little help from poet Percy Shelley,
sheds that skin and undergoes her most interesting
transformation of all …
After seeing this painting, incorrectly
attributed to Leonardo da Vinci,
Shelley was inspired to write
a poem about Medusa.
Shelley attributes her power to “grace”
not evil, writing “Its horror and its beauty
are divine.
Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie Loveliness
like a shadow, from which shrine, Fiery and
lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies
of anguish and of death.
Yet it is less the horror than the grace Which
turns the gazer’s spirit into stone.”
With these words Shelley finds something new
in the story of Medusa: Not a stoney stare,
but a mesmerizing gaze.
Not a monster, but a terrifying beauty.
Not vice incarnate, but the feminine sublime.
More recently, some feminists adopted Medusa
as a symbol of female resistance and revenge.
A creature that can literally turn the leering
male gaze against itself.
But not all interpretations have been so generous.
Leave it to Sigmund Freud who argued that
the Medusa myth was a metaphor for a fear of castration.
In films like Clash of the Titans and Percy
Jackson and the Olympians we see Medusa both
as the powerful, dangerous living woman, and
as a defeated, decapitated head.
Medusa’s gender is her defining feature—just
as much as that writhing head of snakes.
Remember, it is never just the eyes that are
removed to take her power, the whole head
is needed—the female face in its entirety.
Her defeat by decapitation demonstrates that
we see femininity as a threat.
Victim or villain.
Beast or beauty.
Medusa lingers in our collective imagination
because she’s a powerful symbol: If you
think women are scary, she’s a scary woman.
But if you look a little deeper, you’ll
find there’s more than meets the eye.
