There's nothing like a mad woman...
We all know (or we should, anyway) that history has preferred quiet women. Ideally, women of the ancient and not so ancient world had no thoughts or opinions at all. But if they did, they were expected to keep their mouths shut. For women, speaking out wasn’t just an aberration. It was a violation. A crime, even.
In the 16th century, there was this f*cked up horror called a scold’s bridle. It was basically a metal cage fitted over a woman’s head and face, with a metal piece that would jab her under the tongue so that she couldn’t speak without hurting herself. The powers that be (powers that were?) would put this thing on a mouthy woman and parade her through town on a leash.
Fast forward to the much more enlightened 19th century and even into the 20th century, when countless women were committed to insane asylums for doing crazy things like reading too much, speaking too loudly, not liking sex, liking sex too much… or, worst of all standing up to their husbands. They were diagnosed with things like “uterine derangement” and “moral insanity” or, of course, hysteria. It all sounds pretty wild, but you know what’s almost more unbelievable? Hysteria wasn’t removed from the DSM as a diagnosis until 1980.
T-Swift nailed it:
And there's nothin' like a mad woman
What a shame she went mad
No one likes a mad woman
You made her like that
And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out
And you find something to wrap your noose around
And there's nothin' like a mad woman
This tradition of calling a woman crazy for using her voice has a long, long history. You probably know by now that my name is Kassandra. My mom just thought it was pretty—she didn’t realize she named me after a hysterical woman.
The story goes like this: A Trojan princess named Kassandra was gifted by the god Apollo with the ability to see the future, but she was also cursed never to be believed. In some versions, Apollo gives her the gift of prophecy hoping it will make her want to sleep with him, then gets pissed off when she doesn’t and curses her. Other versions say she makes a bargain with him and then reneges, and the curse is her punishment. Still other versions say both Kassandra and her brother Helenus gained the ability as children, when they fell asleep in Apollo’s temple and had snakes whisper in their ears.
While it’s not completely clear where the stories started (most likely VERY old oral traditions), we see references in various works. The bit with the snakes comes from a Scholia on Lykophron's Alexandra. (Alexandra was an alternate name for Kassandra.) This Scholia goes on to say that Apollo promised that Kassandra would be the best prophet if she would be with him, and she refused, but it suggests that he had already been teaching her the art of prophecy for some time. Hyginus also says in his Fabulae that Apollo cursed her when she wouldn't sleep with him, without reference to any bargain. The idea that Kassandra made a bargain with Apollo and reneged is referenced in Aeschylus' Agamemnon.
From Aeschylus:
Kassandra:
I consented to Loxias but broke my word.
Chorus:
Were you already possessed by the art inspired of the god?
Kassandra:
Already I prophesied to my countrymen all their sufferings [pathos pl.]
Chorus:
How came it then that you were unharmed by Loxias’ wrath?
Kassandra:
Ever since that fault I could persuade no one of anything.
From Hyginus:
Cassandra, daughter of Priam and Hecuba, is said to have fallen asleep when she was tired of playing, in the temple of Apollo. When Apollo tried to embrace her, she did not permit him. So Apollo brought it about that she should not be believed, though she gave true prophecies.
From the Scholia:
Cassandra, also known as Alexandra, and Helenus, whom they brought to the temple of Thymbraean Helios Apollo, and they celebrated their birthdays there. After feasting and reveling all day in the temple, they returned to the city and the palace in the evening, leaving the children in the temple, according to some out of forgetfulness, but according to me, intentionally, as they were accustomed to do this to see what kind of people the children would turn out to be. So, Priam and his people did this with the aforementioned children. The next day, when they went to the temple, they found two snakes coiled around the children and cleaning their sense organs, but not harming them. Apollo, being a prophet and seer, in the aforementioned sanctuary of Helios, said that the children would become seers, and he taught them the art of prophecy as they grew. He promised Cassandra that if she would be with him, he would make her the best seer. But when she refused to do this, that prophet Apollo proclaimed that Cassandra is not a seer, but raves and speaks like a madwoman.
Now we move on to Kassandra’s real spotlight era, the Trojan War. Here’s the quick and dirty version:
A Trojan prince named Paris was promised the most beautiful woman in the world to be his bride (by Aphrodite, the goddess of love, for reasons that require a whole other post). The problem? The most beautiful woman in the world was already married. She was Helen, the queen of Sparta. Of course, that didn’t stop Paris. He sailed to Sparta and sailed back to Troy with Helen. The jilted king of Sparta went after them with the biggest army Greece had ever seen and laid siege to Troy. The war lasted ten years and ended in the complete destruction of Troy.
Kassandra saw it coming. She warned Paris that if he came back with Helen, they would all be doomed. He didn’t listen.
At the end of the war, the Greeks played a trick. They left a huge wooden horse at the gates of Troy and pretended to sail away. Kassandra saw through that, too. She warned her people that the horse was a trap. The Trojans didn’t listen. They brought the horse inside the gates and threw a party. They drank and feasted and when everyone was passed out drunk, a bunch of Greeks came out of the horse and opened the gates to the Greek army.
Kassandra watched as her brothers and uncles and nephews were slaughtered, right down to the last baby boy. Troy was destroyed, just like she said, and she prophesied once again that she herself would be taken as a slave and die far from her home. (Pretty much all of this can be found in Homer’s Odyssey and Aeschylus’ play Agamemnon, among other works.)
In ancient plays like Agamemnon and Euripides’ Trojan Women, Kassandra is painted as absolutely raving.
“Frenzied in…you are, by some god possessed, and you wail in wild strains…”
“…wild Kassandra leave her chamber, the frantic prophetess…”
“…Kassandra, frenzied maid, comes rushing wildly here…”
It sends a message (in my opinion) like, “How could we have believed this wild woman spouting craziness at us?”
But let’s review and rephrase here, shall we?
Kassandra told her brother that running away with the wife of a foreign king would have… some consequences.
She pointed out that maybe it was just a little suspicious that the people who had been trying to kill them all for the last decade had not only decided to just sail away but left them a nice present before they left. And maybe someone should check it out before bringing it inside? Just maybe.
She predicted that she would face the same fate as pretty much every other woman in every other conquered city ever… The ones who lived, anyway.
I mean… what does that sound like? Call me crazy like Kassandra but it sounds a whole lot like a woman speaking up and stating the obvious. It sounds like no one wanted to listen to her, so they called her crazy.
How many of us have received the same treatment? At work, at home, at school. An idea is laughable when a woman says it, but brilliant when a man says it. A man who speaks firmly is assertive, but a woman doing the same is aggressive. A man who speaks animatedly is passionate, but a woman is… you guessed it. Hysterical.
And that’s the version of Kassandra we still have, nearly 3000 years later. Why? Because women 3000 years ago (and remember, less than 200 years ago) were not free to tell their side of the story. Or if they were, their versions weren’t deemed important enough to save. And that matters.
It matters who is telling the story. It matters how they tell the story. What details are included and which are left out. What kind of tone and word choice are used. What reasons are given or implied for actions that may be underplayed or overstated. What conclusions are drawn, which dots are connected. What assumptions are made, what kind of “filler” content is added, how things are framed.
Is a woman crazy or just saying things no one wants to hear? Is she spiteful and petty or does she have a legitimate grievance? Did she hand down a punishment or an opportunity?
That’s what Partheneia is all about. For too long, women have gotten the short and shitty end of the mythological stick, and I think it’s time they (and we) got a better deal. So stay tuned and buckle up. I can’t wait to go on this journey with you!
Next up: Kassandra’s story (Partheneia version), scheduled to go live on June 5, 2025. I believe free subscribers get a preview, but the full story is only available to paid subscribers. So click that button!
Last minute housekeeping:
I’ve been watching the reader interest form, and I think this is how we’re going to proceed:
Posts will roll out in “clusters” of 2-3 posts a day or two apart, 1-2 times per month. The first post will introduce the myth along with source material and discussion. The second post will be the Partheneia version of the myth, with a few author notes to clarify where I deviated from the source material and why. There may sometimes be a third post if there’s another spinoff myth or historical bit that didn’t make it into the story proper but which may provide an extra layer of context… or if it’s just really juicy.