What If Pandora and Cassandra Were the Heroes of Literature All Along?
Why, in so many of our stories, do women get the blame when things go awry, starting with the mother of them (us) all—Eve? That’s the question at the heart of Elizabeth Lesser’s ambitious and illuminating Cassandra Speaks: When Women Are the Storytellers, the Human Story Changes. In this empowering heroine’s journey, the Omega Institute cofounder revisits the tales that have shaped our thinking about ourselves and our culture. O’s books editor, Leigh Haber, wanted to know what prompted Lesser to embark on this sojourn.
You write that “while the distrust of women is the root of the story, it no longer has to be the fruit.” What do you mean?
For all the many strides women have made, the old stories haunt us still—religious tales where women are fickle or weak or cursed, ugly hags and scullery maids, or sleeping beauties and girls locked in towers. By shifting the narrative, we can shake off the stereotypes that keep us from being all we can be.
Among them Cassandra. What does she embody for you?
In the #MeToo era, Cassandra sums up what accusers often suffer. They know the truth of their own experience, but they are not believed. In ancient Greece, she was a princess all the men were after—including Apollo, the god who eventually won her affection. As part of the courtship process, he gave her the gift of clairvoyance. But when she refused to sleep with him, he became furious and retaliated, making it so that while she could still see the future, no one would believe her predictions.
And what happened?
She forewarned of the Trojan War and the slaughter of her people, but no one listened. She ended up going mad.
She was scapegoated, like Pandora.
Right. Before Pandora disobeyed and opened that box, there was no evil in the world, or so the story goes.
But you think Pandora was scapegoated for her curiosity and willingness to accept that life is hard. Likewise, you think Eve was courageous.
Yes. For example, in prebiblical times, snakes were carriers of wisdom. Eve wanted to be wise. She wanted to go out into the world, not stay in Eden—the urge of all young people, the drive at the heart of the hero’s journey: exile, test, return with wisdom. Eve is the only biblical figure who’s punished for following that urge to grow up.
What’s the problem with the guilty-woman trope?
I’m interested in telling and creating new stories—not repeating the ones that make women witches and villains.
What’s an example?
True story: Antoinette Tuff was a bookkeeper at a school in suburban Atlanta when a heavily armed man came into the building. He told her he was going to start shooting. She talked him down, not because she was a trained mediator or a law enforcement official, but because she dignified empathy and gave it a backbone. To borrow from Toni Morrison, she was “gallant.”
You’re a trained midwife. What has that taught you about women?
Laboring women are the epitome of courage. I’d replace statues of soldiers all over the world with women delivering babies. We need to redefine power and see ourselves as gallant.
For more stories like this, sign up for our newsletter.
You Might Also Like
