I just finished (ok, is a poem every really finished?) a poem about Medusa. This poem started out several months ago with a question, “What was Medusa like before her head was covered with snakes? How did it get that way?” I was fascinated by the idea that she created her hair that eventually turned into snakes. I imagined her hair as dreadlocks, oil-coated, glossy, twisting curls.
I did a little research and found that many myths allude to her rape by Poseidon; some references have her offending Athena by her relationship with Poseidon. Now the poem was taking on a very sexual theme. The seduction made no sense to me. It had to have been a rape that brought out the monster in Medusa.
Fortunately — very fortunately — I’ve never been raped. I’ve had a few close calls, though. I’ve also read many works about rapes — all very poweful. Now that the poem seemed to have it’s own story to tell, it was all about the rape precipitating her change. I know I didn’t deliberately set out to write about a rape, but that’s what happened. I don’t know if it’ll measure up.
By the way, 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men will be a victim of sexual assault in their lifetime. Maybe we’d have greater awareness, if reptile-hair was always a result.
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