The Medusa Monologue

Title Monologue – Performed as the show opening piece

By Sara Yach

 

My name is Medusa. You recognize me not, as I stand before you now, lacking my one trait that has made me infamous for thousands of years.

This is me. . .  This is the me before. The me before I was gifted the serpents to replace my hair. Did you know that? Did you know they were a gift and not a curse? My story has been told by others for so long no one knows my truth. You may think you know, but you don’t know me.

So let us take pause for a moment and count the supposed events of my narrative. 

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My name is Medusa. I was called the beautiful mortal. The exception to my immortal sisters. I was the “other” in the family. My sisters were true monsters by birth. We were all Gorgons, however, for reasons upon which I can only speculate, I am known as the most hideous of all. It has been told that I was seduced by Poseidon, the sea god, in the temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. You may have heard that Athena was so distraught that the sanctity of her temple was violated that she turned me into just as much a monster as my immortal sisters. My hair had been replaced and my head became encircled with serpents. 

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My name is Medusa. You have seen me, I know you have, my visage portrayed forevermore in paintings, on pottery, mosaics, and sculptures as a face twisted with grimace. I am the monster that retreated to an island to hide myself away. This island prison became a garden of stone figures of those that looked upon my gaze. This was until, the hero of this telling, Perseus, the son a Zeus came to my island. While wielding a knife he sought me out, and in one quick and determined motion separated my serpent head from my body. From my blood came the winged horse Pegasus and my head, complete with limp serpents, was unceremoniously dropped into a sack.

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Is that the recounting upon which you are familiar? I believe this to be true, as from the time of my death, my story has been told through the lens of the teller. It has been skewed to fit the ears of the audience that hears it.   I am here to take back my story and tell you the truth. . . MY truth. I will take back my narrative and tell it through my own lens, to the ears of those who matter nothing to me. I have no motive to impress or beguile you with stories of muscled, bearded heroes from far off lands in a time long, long ago. I want only for you to hear the truth. My truth as it happened those centuries ago.

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My name is Medusa and I have been forever tied with Poseidon. It was the physical expression of our love, in the temple of the goddess of wisdom, that lead me to my ill fate. But the actions of that event were not instigated by me. That god of the sea, I detested him. He was ill-mannered. He was violent and impulsive. Poseidon’s hot-blooded tempers were known as well as the trident that he carried.  It was due to my rejection of him, when he perused me in Athena’s temple that day, that I learned first-hand of his violence, impulsiveness, and ability to overpower. Seduction it was not. 

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However, as my story is passed down century after century those that tell my story err on the side of the aggressor and I lost my validity. I became the one that needed to prove my worthiness. I have been doubted and blamed. However, it was Athena that saw me for what I was. Those in Greece favored the actions of their bearded hero, and in the same breath, questioned me. It is a wonder to me that my retelling does not include an account of what I wore upon the day in Athena’s temple.  

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Athena gifted me the snakes. She did not curse me with them, as those that portray me as the monster would have you believe. It was Athena’s intention for me to be reborn into something bigger and better than what I had been. Just as the serpent sheds their skin and regrow another, I too, shed the life I knew for the one alone on my island. We look at the snake as carriers of wisdom and rebirth. I became wise. I gained the ability to judge the character of the eyes and look upon the souls of those that peered back at me. Athena helped me to see those that meant to use me. To harm me. I was given the gift to see the coldness reflected in men’s hearts. Those hearts were turned to stone. It has been said that these are the true victims. Those, that are called the victims, they came in search of me. I was the hunted and not the hunter. I was a challenge to be won.

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My name is Medusa and I am beautiful, I am strong, and I am a survivor. My advocate is Athena, who ruled by wisdom and logic. Not emotion. She did not curse me in a fit of rage.  Upon my death, my advocate placed my likeness on her shield to honor me. This likeness was not the sad, fearful, visage that reflects my despair, but rather a strong powerful being that is bigger than herself. 

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Now when you say my name, I hope you say it with all the admiration and respect for someone who has told her story on her terms, in her truth. My tale shall not be jaded, twisted, or scrambled to meet someone else’s purpose. It should be told stripped and unadulterated. The only purpose to find the voice of the one who lost it so long ago. As you say my name, remember that there are many more like me. Those with stories to be told. Those who have lost their voices, and those that are beginning to find them again.