The Oracle of Delphi has always intrigued me. The image of a young woman chosen to speak on behalf of the gods sounds powerful. But the process of becoming her was anything but simple. Before she could ever sit on the tripod or utter a word, she had to be selected. And her selection was based not just on spiritual preparation but on vague and uncomfortable criteria like purity and the absence of blemishes.
When I first read that phrase, I felt an old frustration rising. Another example of how, across history, women have been allowed to speak only when they fit a certain image. Clean, quiet, unthreatening. It made me want to throw the story away and move on.
But something stopped me. Because I have come to see that translation, especially of ancient texts, is never perfect. Maybe the word blemishes did not only mean appearance. Maybe it pointed to something deeper the kind of moral and emotional control that society has always expected from women. A flawless face and a flawless character. That has always been the price.
Even now, in our modern world, that pressure remains. Women are still asked to be calm before they speak about injustice. They are asked to be polite even when they are in pain. They are told to be likable, agreeable, respectable. Our voices are judged not only by what we say but by how softly we say it.
I have lived some of that truth. I have always tried hard to learn, to grow, to do well in what I take on. I would read more, study more, try to help others when I could. But when I achieved more than some of my peers, especially the boys around me, it did not always go well. I was not encouraged. I was made to feel like I had done something wrong. I was told I was playing the victim. I was told I was not beautiful enough. And it hurt because it came from a place I could not change how I looked, how I existed.
In college, this became worse. I remember moments when I tried to explain something, to help, and it made the boys uncomfortable. They were not used to someone like me knowing more than them. I am not saying I was always right. I probably got a lot of things wrong. I am still learning. I am not some symbol of resistance. I am a regular person, with fears and flaws and plenty of doubts. But I also know that what I experienced is not rare. Many girls go through this. Many women are dismissed just for being smart, just for being bold.
And still, feminism is looked down on. It is treated like a complaint rather than a movement. It is mocked, misunderstood, and silenced. But women all around the world have been fighting for their rights. For years. For ages. We are still fighting. In homes, in classrooms, in boardrooms, in the smallest spaces. The fight is not always loud, but it is always there.
And so I come back to the Oracle. Would I have been chosen? A girl with scars and contradictions, with a past she does not always speak of, with questions she cannot always answer. Probably not.
But maybe that is the point.
Maybe we do not need to be chosen by others to begin listening to ourselves. Maybe the voice we have is already enough. Maybe power does not come from being perfect. Maybe it comes from continuing to speak even when the world tells you not to.
That is something I am still learning.
