Why Medea and Medusa Were Misunderstood: Lessons for Women Who Refuse to Be Tamed

When I first took a Greek mythology course in university, I thought it would be an easy elective to boost my GPA. You know, a walk in the park. But soon, I found myself drawn in by the stories—especially Medea’s. These ancient myths, written thousands of years ago, still feel eerily relevant in the 21st century. It makes you wonder: Did the great tragedians have a sneak peek at the future? Or is the male-dominated world so deeply ingrained that, even after all this time, not much has changed—especially for women in the Global South?

Medea’s story, in particular, has stuck with me. She’s always been painted as the villain—the woman who, in a jealous rage, does the unthinkable. But I’ve always felt Medea was greatly misunderstood. She’s not just a ball of fury; she’s a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and pursued it with relentless determination. The real tragedy is that a woman with that much drive and ambition was labeled a monster. Sound familiar?

And then there's Medusa. Poor Medusa, who got the short end of the stick. She didn’t start out as a monster; she was turned into one after being violated by Poseidon.

Instead of sympathy, she got snakes for hair and a face that could literally kill. And if that wasn’t bad enough, her image was splashed onto ships, armor, coins, and rings—not to celebrate her strength, but to scare away bad omens. Her face became a weapon, and I can’t help but wonder: what if she’d been treated as a victim, not a villain?

Years ago, I was given a piece of advice that felt straight out of a Greek tragedy. “If you want to be taken seriously in a room full of men, wear your wedding rings.” Why? Because men are more comfortable with the idea that a woman is "tamed." Seriously. In that moment, I realized that, much like Medea and Medusa, women who defy expectations—who dare to want more than what’s prescribed—are still seen as threats. They want you to have ambition, just not too much.

Women like Medea—and like us—are trapped in the Cirque du Soleil of expectations, flipping and twisting to meet impossible standards of femininity, ambition, and likability. If we fall off the tightrope? We’re branded as difficult, demanding, or worse—just like Medea. And heaven forbid we actually speak up about it.

This is particularly true in male-dominated industries, like tech and business, where female founders are constantly being second-guessed. Ambition in women is still seen as something unnatural, something to be tamed. Sound familiar again?

One of the biggest challenges for female founders is navigating that awkward tightrope between assertiveness and likability. We’re told to be strong and confident, but not too strong, because we might come off as abrasive. It’s exhausting. We’re expected to lead, but we’re also expected to conform to an outdated, picture-perfect version of femininity that just doesn’t belong in today’s world. Yet here we are, still fighting the same battles Medea fought, still trying to carve out space for ourselves in a world that wasn’t built with us in mind.

Imagine if Medea lived today. Maybe her story wouldn’t be one of tragedy and bloodshed. Maybe, in a world that actually listens to women, Medea’s cries for help would’ve been heard long before she reached her breaking point. If her pain had been acknowledged, if her needs were seen as valid, she might have been empowered rather than driven to desperation. Who knows—Medea could have been a TED Talk speaker rather than a tragedy.

The real tragedy of Medea’s story isn’t just what she did—it’s that she was ignored, dismissed, and isolated long before her infamous revenge. Fast forward thousands of years, and women are still finding themselves in similar positions: pushing against societal expectations, misunderstood, and often villainized for standing up for themselves.

Medea’s tale isn’t just a warning of what happens when a woman is driven to her limit—it’s a cautionary tale about what happens when society fails to listen to women. Medea represents every woman who’s had to fight alone, whose struggles were ignored, whose strength was seen as a threat rather than an asset. In the end, Medea wasn’t just a victim of her circumstances—she was a woman who refused to be silenced, no matter the cost.

And Medusa? Her face still pops up everywhere, as a warning, a tool, a symbol—but no one remembers the woman behind the myth. Like Medea, Medusa was reduced to a monster, weaponized, commodified, and turned into something she never asked to be. If you look closely, you’ll see that these women—demonized and misunderstood—still have a lot to teach us. They remind us that refusing to be tamed, to be boxed in, is the ultimate act of rebellion. And that’s a lesson worth keeping.

(Photo source: Unsplash)