The Oracle of Delphi has always intrigued me. A young woman chosen to speak for the gods sounds powerful, and becoming her was hard. Before she could sit on the tripod or say a word, she had to be selected, and the selection rested on spiritual preparation along with vague, uncomfortable criteria like purity and having no blemishes. When I first read that phrase, I felt an old frustration rise. It seemed like one more example of women being allowed to speak only when they fit a certain image: clean, quiet, unthreatening. I wanted to throw the story away and move on. Something stopped me. Translations of ancient texts are always imperfect, and maybe “blemishes” meant more than appearance. Maybe it pointed to the moral and emotional control society has always expected from women, a flawless face along with a flawless character. That has always been the price, and the pressure is still here. Women are asked to stay calm before they speak about injustice and to stay polite when they are in pain. They are told to be likable, agreeable, and respectable. People judge our voices by what we say and also by how softly we say it.
I have lived some of this. I have always worked hard to learn, grow, and do well at what I take on. I read more, studied more, and helped others when I could. When I achieved more than some of my peers, especially the boys around me, it often went badly. I was made to feel I had done something wrong. I was told I was playing the victim. I was told I wasn’t beautiful enough, and that hurt because it was about something I couldn’t change: how I looked and how I existed. In college it got worse. When I tried to explain something or help, the boys got uncomfortable. They weren’t used to someone like me knowing more than them. I was probably wrong about plenty of things, and I’m still learning. I’m a regular person with fears, flaws, and plenty of doubts. I also know what I went through is common. Many girls go through it, and many women are dismissed for being smart or bold. Feminism still gets mocked, misunderstood, and silenced, as if it were a complaint. Women around the world have been fighting for their rights for ages, and we are still fighting, in homes, classrooms, boardrooms, and the smallest spaces. The fight goes on, loud or quiet.
So I come back to the Oracle. Would I have been chosen, a girl with scars and contradictions, a past she doesn’t always talk about, and questions she can’t always answer? Probably not. Maybe we can start listening to ourselves without waiting to be chosen. Maybe the voice we have is already enough, and power comes from continuing to speak when the world tells us to stay quiet. I’m still learning that.
