I’ve had a text I received a few weeks ago stuck in my head lately. “I think you’re really smart and intuitive”, the text read. For context, the text also read, one paragraph before, “I think it makes the most sense for us to not see each other anymore.” So, you understand, this “smart and intuitive” was less a compliment and more a parting read of what this man believed to be my most notable attributes. Or the attributes he valued most in me. Either way, they are the two adjectives that were chosen to describe me. The ones that came to mind first, or felt truest when written out in what I assume was his notes app, before copying and pasting them to our messages.
I think I kind of rolled my eyes when I read that the first time. It made me laugh in an internal, “yeah, I know that already” kind of way. But hearing someone else say it, especially in such a final and summative way, has changed my relationship with those descriptors. I do know I’m smart, but it surprised me to be described that way by someone I was involved with romantically. I’m used to feeling looked down on for my intelligence in those relationships. And I do think I’m intuitive, but it surprised me to be described that way by anyone, because that’s not a trait I think many people would recognize in me. It’s certainly not the second adjective they’d use to describe me. His apologetic compliment stuck with me because of its unexpected alignment with how I view myself. It made me feel good to know I was perceived in a way I thought to be true. It made me sad too. To be told that I was smart, and intuitive, but also, indirectly, that I was not desired. These shining pillars of my identity are not enough, among all the others. They attract respect, but not love.
The words “smart and intuitive” remind me of the High Priestess - one side of the feminine archetype coin, opposite the Empress. The men who originated the tarot separated “the female archetype” into these two cards. The Empress represents the soft, “desirable” aspects of femininity. She is warm, loving, merciful, sensual, motherly. The High Priestess describes the aspects that were more mysterious to men, the traits that they didn’t understand, or that scared them about women. She represents intuition, receptivity, passivity, patience, coolness, wisdom. Beyond written definitions, you can see the stark difference between these “types” of women in the way they’re interpreted artistically*.
*This pack, which is generally thought of as the pack, was illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith. Her striking interpretations of the cards are what made tarot intriguing and accessible enough to slip into mainstream culture.
In its more mysterious aspects, this card makes me think of Odysseus’s wife Penelope, specifically the version of her character depicted in Circe, by Madeline Miller. About Penelope, Circe says,
I asked her how she did it once, how she understood the world so clearly. She told me that it was a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions, leaving room for others to reveal themselves.
Chilling right?? And kind of badass? I think about her character all the time. This book is one of the most relatable and heartbreaking portrayals of what it means to be a woman (and what it means to be a mother) ((AND what it’s like to be made the villain)) I’ve ever read, or seen, or consumed in any way. If it’s not on your list, add it, and if it’s been on your list, stop reading this and start reading Circe. Come back when you’ve finished.
When comparing two women in real life, I can usually identify one as the Priestess and one as the Empress. I’ve found, shamefully, that I respect one more than the other. I often look down on the Empress of the two. I am embarrassed by how she caters to her lover. I am jealous of her desirability.
I would identify myself as the High Priestess in most comparisons, and I think others would too. I so badly want to be the generous, relaxed, approachable, comforting Empress, but that brand of femininity has never come as naturally to me.
Of course, none of this is real. These categories are oversimplified and overutilized. One element that makes Circe so well written is that Penelope and Circe seem to foil each other with opposite characteristics of both The High Priestess and The Empress. Obviously, there’s more than two ways to embody femininity. No one exists as either one or the other. But this system that men created (I’m talking about Tarot, but also, you know,,, everything) influences how women are perceived (by other women as well, not just men), which influences how we behave.
We villainize “difficult” women so readily, that when a woman does stand up for herself, it’s only after she has understood the character she’s about to embody, and made peace with it. The choice to stand up for ourselves, to protect our boundaries, to demand respect, is weighted for women by the knowledge that in doing so, we will likely become “the bad guy”. We will be seen as unreasonable, crazy, cold, dramatic, a bitch. Sometimes what we want to stand up for is worth that label, sometimes it’s not.
Last week I got into a really bad fight with my roommate. The worst fight, actually, that I’ve ever been in with someone not related to me by blood. I took a position that probably makes me look pretty bad from an outside perspective, but that I stand by anyways, because I know the context. The minute the fight began over text I knew it was the end. I felt a cold, deadly, precise, pointedness come over me. I felt myself shift from someone who wanted peace, harmony, a solution, to someone who was done with the whole relationship. I didn’t care if we were friends after this was done, I cared that I was respected and heard, where I hadn’t been before. I realized before the face-to-face portion of the fight that I hadn’t felt frantic or stressed, but calm and sure and determined. I realized I hadn’t cried (which I always do because I hate confrontation). I realized that I’d found my breaking point. And there, in the quiet eye of the domestic storm, I stood my ground, knowing what it meant. (I am now looking for a new roommate)
Why does it feel like I can only be loving and accommodating at the expense of my respectability? Only assertive and independent at the expense of my warmth? One woman at the expense of the other, as if I’m not both at once, all the time. I feel like I’m constantly pushing one of these women down, until the above gets so much taken from her that she weakens, and the other rises to the top, switching in an instant from that warm generosity to a steely retreat. I can’t seem to find the balance, or make these women realize they exist inside the same consciousness.
I’ve felt this shift so many times. At work, in relationships, towards friends, with family, etc., usually triggered by an act of disrespect. While I want to be loved, I need to be respected, so once I realize that respect doesn’t exist, there’s no going back. It’s a brutal and icy severance that I fear I’m almost proud of.
I’m reminded of another time a few years ago where I felt this cold come over me, seemingly all at once. I am exercising the “mysterious” aspect of my High Priestess here, because I have no interest in going into details. Essentially, on the tail end of a bad situationship, I realized that the only way this man would face any repercussions for his harmful behavior is if I embodied the karma I thought he deserved, and sacrificed my warmth to be the only cold he faced after months of poor decision-making, hoping that loss would be enough. It wasn’t. He walked away happy and (to my knowledge) unchanged, and I walked away dark and cold and sunken to a place I felt I had to go.
Women are so used to being perceived as the villains, that sometimes we preemptively become them, because it’s easier on our own terms. Or maybe we allow ourselves to become villains because that’s the only way we can feel powerful after a long period of helplessness. Or because we can’t trust the world we grew up in to hold men accountable, and make them face any real consequences, so we try to serve the justice ourselves.
I’m so tired of experiencing this villain origin story over and over again. How can I present to the world as a balanced mix of both archetypes? I see other women tow this line gracefully all the time, but when I try to do the same I feel like I’m just impersonating them. Maybe they’re impersonating someone too. How do I set boundaries before I even realize I want them? How can I attract desire and respect? Where does being generous end, and being taken advantage of begin? Is it before or after I start to worry about it?
In her book, Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom, Rachel Pollack explains one interpretation of the High Priestess as “an answer to struggle, a quiet retreat instead of the harsh glare of self-exposure when we involve ourselves openly with other people.” When I read this description, I think about who I become after I am hurt. I think about Circe. I think about certain women who raised me, and their choice to remain independent and isolated, from the moment of hurt they decided was their last, onwards.
I know this was a moody one but don’t you dare feel bad for me or send me encouraging messages or whatever. I will get embarrassed!! I swear I’m not miserable, I’m just feeling reflective and contemplative this week. You are allowed to nod your head in solidarity and give this little rant a like and that’s it :)
Happy Saturday,
PLEASE read Circe,
<3 Jordan