There is rage in the air these days, the rage of women. Young
women, old women, tall/short/fat/thin/gorgeous/ordinary-looking women are
telling their stories and shaking their fists and demanding justice. And
because in this culture sweetness and passivity have always been expected of
women, their rage when it emerges is doubly scary--kind of like having
your pet bunny turn and bare its teeth at you.
The Greeks knew about female
fury. Their mythology is full of over-the-top angry women like Medea and
Clytemnestra. They even had goddesses who specialized in rage and vengeance, the
Furies. Three of them, because one wasn't enough.
Outside of Greek mythology there
haven't been many models for female anger, so we're making it up as we go along,
from pussy hats and marches to pointing fingers at sexual harassers. And the
latter are toppling like nine-pins, "good" guys along with bad.
Et tu Garrison,
Al, John C.? But this is not a time to play favorites.
Remember Trump’s reaction to
the accusations against Roy Moore, "He says it didn't happen. You have to
listen to him, also"? Until practically yesterday, that was the response
that any woman complaining of harassment would have expected to hear. Now, for
the first time in human history, the victims are being listened to. They’ve
even been named “Persons of the Year” by Time.
It is a kind of miracle, but will it last?
After rampaging through Ancient Greece, the Furies faded into the
mists of time. And if we aren’t careful, so will the labors of today’s Furies, those
who marched and protested and risked everything to speak out. The only way to
ensure that this achievement isn’t lost is to put masses of women in positions
of power, in the boardroom and the village council, the courts and the Congress.
Fortunately (thank Gaia, Artemis, Isis, Astarte, Sophia, and the
Blessed Virgin Mary), masses of women these days are running for office, or planning to. All we have to do is elect
them.
