Paleothea: the Ancient Goddess

I’ve been working up to writing this post for over a month, ever since Wendy responded to The Dangers of de-Mystification. I can’t address the whole thing in one post, so this will have to be a series. But by the end of this post, I hope to demonstrate a little better what the problems with appropriating myths might be.

What Wendy took issue with was not my dilemma, but the foundational concept underlying my dilemma: Are We Authentic? Her post is well written, and I suggest you read it, but there are two points that I want to respond to in particular: 1) that even if we’re not “authentic,” it’s okay to re-use other people’s stories

Are all of those mentioned above, and many more, examples of appropriation as the legends and myths travel with us to new places and times? Very possibly. But is it wrong, is it a sort of cheating? No. They all serve our very human need to explain ourselves, not just to ourselves, but to the universe, to our ancestors and descendants.¹

and 2) we very well may be more authentic than the source material we have available to us

I can’t agree that your ‘appropriation of Greek Goddesses isn’t authentic’. Oh yes, the records we have today come down to us mostly in male voices, from men who lived in a society that feared and hated women, but are we much different than that today? … I don’t believe the myths and characters from ancient Greece were born in a vacuum, but that they were revised, re-written and co-opted from earlier times, changed to appeal to the audience of the day. … So… a reinterpretation for today’s women and purpose is as authentic as the Greek myths were in their time.²

She is right, of course, that stories are constantly being reframed, and, indeed, that is how they continue to live and remain meaningful. And she is right that, “in reality, we cannot know what they thought,” and that our reframing may give voice to people we cannot hear in the textual sources. The problem comes, however, when you erase someone else’s voice to do that. And it’s really a problem, when that erasure reproduces oppression. And that’s exactly what is meant by appropriation; that’s why it’s not a neutral word. Read the rest of this entry »

As it turns out, I DID get a copy of Kirk Ormand’s Controlling Desires not for Thesmophoria but just in time for Christmas. That worked out well, because I got to read it all during our Winter Break. Except that I was so totally burnt out from last semester, that I actually mostly just hid in bed and read fantasy. Now that the semester has begun again, I’m slowly being forced out of my shell again, and Controlling Desires is a new and exciting part of my life (that, of course, I no longer actually have time to read - but procrastination from real reading is a powerful thing, so I expect it will go fast now).

Ormand leads with background on gender and sexuality and how we think about such things. Although he totally ties it to specifically Classical things, in retrospect I realize that it is lessons like this that led me to go for my PhD in anthropology. But enough about me, here’s the gist of that point:

We think about sex(uality) in fundamentally different ways than the ancient Greek and Romans did.

In another post - which WILL happen eventually, fear not - I will talk more about it.

In my imagination, I will also be posting about 1) Monsters! Yay! and 2) Hera and Medea! Oooooh!

I’ve mentioned Byblis before, I think. The poor girl fell in love with her brother which eventually led to being turned into a spring. But how she got from point A to point B is the awesomeness of the myth. And, because he is possibly the coolest guy on the planet, J. Harker over at Tales of a Wayward Classicist did a fantastic translation/adaptation of her myth from the Metamorphoses.

Here’s a selection:

It steadily got worse. She’d dream about him.
Really dream about him, you know?
The kind of dreams she’d ache to go back to sleep for.
She hated when he called her sister.
Something wasn’t right. She knew it, but couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t.

…

We have to tell him. Can you? Can you talk to him?
I’m afraid. I don’t know what’ll happen if I open my mouth.
We’ll write him a letter.

Oh the awesomeness … Go read the whole thing.

Watch out, Paleothea is about to get partisan. What little readership I have does not come here for this, but this is how I see the world, and yes, I think it relates to ancient Greece.

Women’s health, it is helpfully explained to us, is not like men’s health. For one thing, simply being a virgin past the “appropriate age” (14-17?) makes a girl susceptible to hysteria and suicidal insanity. Hippocrates’ solution to this: “My prescription is that when virgins experience this trouble, they should cohabit with a man as quickly as possible. If they become pregnant, they will be cured.” There are plenty of variations on this them, but it all reinforces the idea of women as, essentially, mothers.

That said, even Hippocrates recognized that pregnancy held many dangers for women. If abortion was anathema (and it wasn’t for everyone, Galen gives a useful prescription of jumping up and down to expel a fetus which he says actually worked in his office when his kinswomen brought in a slave-girl she was prostituting - it wasn’t an act of kindness, the kinswoman just didn’t want to lose her money-maker), it was at least partly because abortifacients were generally so dangerous, including severe bloodletting and “sharp-edged” things that wounded adjacent parts.

Remember, these are people who thought that the womb moved around the body like a furry animal and could be moved back into place (if it had traveled too low) by giving her sweet-scented wine to drink  (the carrot) and burning “foul-scented vapours below her womb” (the stick).  But damn, at least these people were trying …

All the ancient Greek medicine is from Women’s Life in Greece and Rome by Mary Lefkowitz and Maureen Fant.

This is a series on Penelope, who rocks and everyone should know more about. The breakdown is based on my reading (in ancient Greek, thank you very much) of the Odyssey and with some help from Jenny Strauss Clay, Nancy Felson-Rubin, and Sheila Murnaghan. Read Goddess-Like Penelope (Part 1), Hera-Like Penelope,  Artemis-Like Penelope,  Aphrodite-Like Penelope, and Athena-Like Penelope below.

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The end of the Odyssey is no surprise. The tale is not, contrary to what Felson-Rubin suggests, open-ended, leaving the audience on their edges of their seats to guess what will happen. Rather, as in the Iliad, we are pulled into the lives of the characters. We empathize. We feel Penelope’s confusion in that laugh she forces through her teeth. But we do not fear what the end of the story will bring.

Felson-Rubin says, “the references to her possible inconstancy form a virtual leitmotif,” and I do not disagree. (Felson-Rubin, 164) But rather than argue that this inconstancy (ie, the possibility that she will abandon Odysseus and go off with one of the Suitors) pulls the audience into doubt, it seems clear to me that it serves the same end as the scene between Hector and Andromache in Book Six of the Iliad. Hector’s confident reassurance pulls at our hearts as does Andromache’s; we know the end will not bring them joy and we suffer through their hope. Similarly, our hearts go out to the humanity of Penelope. Unlike “god-like Odysseus,” who is so god-like, in fact, he not only gets to see what’s happening in the plot, but have a degree of control over it, Penelope can only think about what is going on. We feel distress at her distress. We sympathize with her brave attempt to continue down the correct path without evening knowing which god is steering her fate. Her uncertainty is the reality of all humankind, and it is only acknowledging her confusion and her perseverance that the Odyssey reaches its true depth.

Did you hear me people? Penelope isn’t just a side show, she is what makes it deep.

Her uncertainty draws us deeply into the story, but it does not cause us to question the outcome. I clearly remember my feelings when I read Penelope’s entreaty to Artemis to slay her and take her away from the unbearable pain of living without Odysseus. I was not afraid, any more than any ancient Greek would have been, that she would die at the hand of that “arrow-pouring” goddess. In fact, the cry reinforced the realization that it is not Artemis who has her hand in the mix, but Athena. She will not die, she cannot die, and there is no doubt of that to any with the least familiarity with the story (as most ancient Greeks certainly would have). There is, however, a contest, and a marriage is clearly in the works, so perhaps it would be harder to deny the certainty of how the story will end. To this point, I must argue the same line as those who suggest suspense: Penelope does not know what’s going on. She has constructed the contest in such a way that she continues to have options, and as far as she’s concerned both Aphrodite’s Life and Artemis’ Death are alternatives. It cannot be stressed enough, though, that her uncertainty is not ours. Even if we don’t know Penelope’s inner thoughts, we are positive that Athena and Odysseus are prepared for the contest of the bow. So you see? The contest is another example of Penelope’s cunning, and another example of how it is Athena’s option - that of Survival - that is in store for Penelope.

In the end, Penelope is a mixture of all the goddesses and none of them, like all humans. She is exceptional in form and prudence, of lofty stature, accomplished in skill, and a participant in a most wonderful of marriages. Despite her exceptional nature, we do not see Penelope as a goddess, but as irrevocably and amazingly human. The presence of each goddess reminds us of who this wife of Odysseus truly, complexly, is and reiterates how, inevitably, the story will end. Her story gives us all hope that we, too, will reach our happy endings without ever really knowing which hand guides us.

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Felson-Rubin, Nancy. “Penelope’s Perspective: Character from Plot.” Reading the Odyssey: Selected Interpretive Essays. Seth L. Schein, ed. Princeton, N.J. : Princeton University Press, 1996

This is a series on Penelope, who rocks and everyone should know more about. The breakdown is based on my reading (in ancient Greek, thank you very much) of the Odyssey and with some help from Jenny Strauss Clay, Nancy Felson-Rubin, and Sheila Murnaghan. Read Goddess-Like Penelope, Hera-Like Penelope, and Artemis-Like Penelope below.

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Aphrodite, on the other hand, offers Penelope New Life. The myths of the Goddess of Love are in many ways the most applicable to Penelope’s situation. Think, for example, of the fling she had with Ares, the God of War while she was still Hephaestus’ wife, or the fact that it was her intervention that caused Helen to leave Menelaus and elope with Paris, thus beginning the Trojan War. These are examples of Dalliance as described by Nancy Felson-Rubin.

Nevertheless, Aphrodite does not merely advocate free love in this scenario but new marriage. This is particularly noticeable in the quotation below where it is she, and not the Protectress of Marriage (Hera), who petitions Zeus for the marriage of the daughters of Pandareos. When Penelope washes her face in the ambrosia of Aphrodite (18.185), the hardship, the old weighing life she had, falls away and she is born anew, just as the Goddess of Beauty ritually renews herself in the sea.

So if Aphrodite is running the show, Penelope would do well to go ahead and choose one of the Suitors for her husband and start a new life with him. Likewise, if Artemis is running the show, the only option that will bring her relief is a chaste death. Hera, as we saw in a previous post, is not well-equipped to help women in Penelope’s position and indeed, barely manages when her own husband isn’t in eye-sight.

It’s also worth noting that Aphrodite is a powerful goddess, and more of a personality in the Odyssey than Artemis - who, as you may recall from the last post, represents the chaste-death option for Penelope. Helen, who comes down the stairs looking like Artemis, of all people, is the one who makes that power most obvious. Helen takes no responsibility for her behavior; she was forced, she says, by Aphrodite. Poor Penelope. She knows the story of Helen, and that of Klytaimnestra, and so she knows the influences that Aphrodite can have on women’s lives when she chooses to interfere. But she does not know which goddess is running the show in her own life, and is caught in between trying to decide on the correct direction.

Felson-Rubin, Nancy. “Penelope’s Perspective: Character from Plot.” Reading the Odyssey: Selected Interpretive Essays. Seth L. Schein, ed. Princeton, N.J. : Princeton University Press, 1996

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Next week: Which goddess is Penelope really like?

This is a series on Penelope, who rocks and everyone should know more about. The breakdown is based on my reading (in ancient Greek, thank you very much) of the Odyssey and with some help from Jenny Strauss Clay, Nancy Felson-Rubin, and Sheila Murnaghan. Read Goddess-Like Penelope and Hera-Like Penelope below.

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Artemis, the Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, is directly, and somewhat confusingly, compared to Penelope. Artemis, most frequently described as hagnê, pure, is alternatively depicted as possessing a particularly lofty stature and as being incredibly deadly, most especially to women . This isn’t surprising, since she is often understood to represent the time in the life of a parthenos, or virgin, directly before marriage: a time as desirable as it is off-limits.

In the quotation I mention Part 1, Artemis offers her “lofty stature” to the daughters of Pandareos but ultimately the daughters died. Penelope actually prays to be destroyed her like them. Felson-Rubin calls this plot-type the Bride of Death but I would combine it with Tease because of the parthenos, or virgin, aspect of the Goddess and what that means. It is worth pointing out that, ultimately, Penelope cannot ask Artemis for the marriage that a virgin girl would be looking forward to. Her husband’s big house and her grown son Telemachus are constant reminders that the only gift Artemis can give to Penelope is the violent one. Death can keep her from “not only an unwanted marriage, but betrayal and infidelity as well” (Felson-Rubin, 181).

If Penelope is like Artemis in the Odyssey, it must be in her longing for Death.

This is a series on Penelope, who rocks and everyone should know more about. The breakdown is based on my reading (in ancient Greek, thank you very much) of the Odyssey and with some help from Jenny Strauss Clay, Nancy Felson-Rubin, and Sheila Murnaghan. Read Part 1 below.

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Hera is in some ways the least obvious connection to Penelope. Penelope is not described as being like her, and Hera’s part in the Odyssey is much smaller than in the “prequel,” (six mentions to the Iliad’s 115 or so) having no active role at all and only passing mention in metaphor. That said, it is still possible to construct a specific identity from the examples.

It is significant that three out of the six examples are formulaic phrases actually referring to Zeus: “Zeus, mighty husband of Hera.” It seems from the construction that the Father (that would be Zeus) gains power from his association with her, and reinforces the common theme of homophrosyne - this awesome idea of being-of-the-same-mind - and the unstoppable power of a strong couple. The other two examples are describing the protection that Hera has provided for other heroes, specifically Agamemnon (you remember his wife Clytemnestra?) (4.512) and Jason (impossible to forget his fling with Medea) (12.55). These examples emphasize the savior aspect of the goddess, and one that is particularly focused on a safe nostos, or homecoming.

In many ways, it would be easy to imagine this story as the brainchild of the Queen of the Gods (Hera) instead of the virgin Goddess of Wisdom (yep, Athena! the real power in this story). This connection is only heightened by the passage quoted in part 1, where Hera gives Clytie and Cameira (the daughters of Pandareos) form and prudence, the two things for which Penelope is most renowned. In fact, it would be easy to see the relationship of Penelope and Odysseus as mirrored in the relationship of Hera and Zeus (at least as far as that relationship is portrayed within the Odyssey).

But Hera’s domestic power, while able to keep kings safe through scary straits, is not equipped to aid women with long-term separation from their partners (as is the unfortunate case of Penelope). In fact, as we see in other myths, Hera is often involved in tracking her wayward hubby down - something that is certainly not an option in Penelope’s position. Because this plot-type is not even among the options listed for Penelope, Hera’s role in the Odyssey is relatively minor, but she still serves to remind the audience of the “connubial fidelity” both she and Penelope embody.

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Next up: Artemis-Like Penelope (Part 2 continued)

You may have picked up from previous entries that I really dig Penelope, but now you’ll start to understand why in this series!

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There has been a great deal of work done in recent years to “reclaim” the Goddess. Women look to Her for spiritual guidance, for wisdom, for empowerment. They call out to Her by her various names. I myself participate in this new Goddess movement to some degree and it makes sense to me to see goddesses as archetypes guiding or reflecting human behavior. Furthermore, this seems to apply flawlessly to reading the Odyssey, especially as relates to the much-debated action of Penelope.

There are many goddesses in the Odyssey, Kalypso and Kirke come to mind, but it is the Olympian goddesses - specifically, Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Athena - who so nicely guide our perceptions of Penelope and the outcome of the story. These four only show up once all together, in the context of Penelope’s confusing metaphor describing the daughters of Pandareos:

Hera gave them form and prudence surpassing all other women; pure Artemis gave them an lofty stature, and Athena taught them to do renowned works. When bright Aphrodite had ascended to holy Olympus seeking the accomplishment of a blooming wedding for the girls from thunder-loving Zeus (for well does he know everything, both what shall happen and what not happen to mortal humans) the Snatching winds came and snatched them away and gave them to the hated Furies to care for.

Each of these goddesses has a different gift to give the unfortunate Pandareides and they each have a similar role in the greater telling of the Odyssey. Nancy Felson-Rubin has already done a good job of identifying plot-types, however, by seeing the role of each goddess tied into the story more clearly, the function of those plot-types takes on a different meaning. Felson-Rubin states, “Until 23.205 [the end of the Odyssey] even the knowing reader feels suspense as to whether Penelope or Odysseus will happily reunite,” but I hope to show that what the audience, and the reader, feels is not suspense but empathy, suspense being impossible in a story where the end is known. And with a story this famous, who could fail to know the end?

Felson-Rubin, Nancy. “Penelope’s Perspective: Character from Plot.” Reading the Odyssey: Selected Interpretive Essays. Seth L. Schein, ed. Princeton, N.J. : Princeton University Press, 1996

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Coming soon: Part 2 - the roles of the Goddesses

Go online, and it is easy to find scores of sites dedicated to Athena as the patron Goddess of good feminist neo-pagans. In my opinion, however, Athena was more of a product and purveyor of “the patriarchy” than any other Goddess in the Olympic pantheon. There was no other goddess with such power in the (Athenian) populace, and this came from the very fact that her power was not that of a feminist revolutionary, but rather the embodiment of the patriarchy as the parthenogenic daughter of The Father (Zeus). The oppression of women had been Athena’s realm since she founded Athens (and decreed that women shouldn’t vote or be citizens). Sex was an important tool for that oppression (keeping in mind the fact that gender identity and erotic desire can and should be distinguished) as illustrated in the myths surrounding the House of Athens. Read the rest of this entry »

Inspired by a comment from Dan over at Xark, I decided that I should write an entry on underwear and ancient Greek myth. From time to time students ask me questions like, “What did Aphrodite wear?” I usually just refer them to vase paintings, but when I sat down and thought about it, I realized how little I know about ancient Greek garb. I am fairly confident that it didn’t look like what they dressed Alexandra Tydings in on Xena: Warrior Princess (even though I can’t resist posting that photo of her!), but was the idea of lingerie something an ancient Greek - perhaps an ancient Greek prostitute - would have understood?

What about your garden variety briefs? Sue Blundell says that ancient Greek women wore woolen rags when they were menstruating, but how would that have looked? What about underwear during pregnancy when incontinence might be an issue.

Ancient Roman women appear to have used leather bras and (wool?) briefs at least in some scenarios, but would the concept of clothes under clothes have been something the ancient Greeks understood? I think this is particularly interesting given that Greek women were not isolated or considered unclean while they were menstruating (unlike in many other parts of the Mediterranean and the world). In fact, as usual, our only discussion of menstruation comes from interested ancient Greek physicians who were drawing conclusions about women’s health. They don’t bother to identify whether their patients have to strip off something for examination.

I have reviewed my books - especially Women’s Life in Greece and Rome, Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves, Women in Ancient Greece, and Courtesans & Fishcakes - and found nothing (except that woollen rag thing I mentioned above). I have checked Diotima, Perseus Project, and even JSTOR with no luck either. Thankfully, I got some answers in Anahita-L. One person asserts there was no underwear, and they might be right, but my sense is that their opinion stems from a lack of evidence rather than evidence of its lack. But Caroline Tully (through Anahita-l) reports that there IS a book out there that I haven’t read called Women’s Dress in the Ancient Greek World that references G-strings, bras and briefs (also an erotic dancing costume ^.^)!

I leave the rest to your imagination.