Olivia: We think of misogyny as this ugly, modern problem we're slowly fixing. But what if its operating system was written 3,000 years ago, in the first lines of Western literature? And we're all still running the code. Jackson: Wait, 3,000 years ago? That’s a heavy accusation. I thought we were talking about Twitter trolls and glass ceilings, not ancient scrolls. Are you saying this is a feature, not a bug? Olivia: That’s precisely the argument. And it comes from a brilliant, concise book we’re diving into today: Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard. Jackson: Ah, Mary Beard. I know her reputation. She’s a giant in the world of classical history, right? It’s not every day a Cambridge professor of Classics writes a book that becomes a touchstone in modern feminist debates. Olivia: Exactly. And the book itself grew out of two lectures she gave, which is why it feels so direct, so potent. It’s not a dense academic text; it’s a sharp, focused argument. And Beard starts us at the very beginning of Western literature, with a story from Homer's Odyssey that is just jaw-droppingly familiar.

Jackson: Okay, I’m intrigued. The Odyssey. I remember reading parts of it in high school—ships, monsters, a long trip home. Where does silencing women fit in? Olivia: It’s one of the very first scenes. We’re in the palace of Odysseus, who’s been gone for years. His wife, Penelope, is surrounded by aggressive suitors. A bard is in the main hall, singing a somber song about the Greek heroes having a terrible time getting home from the Trojan War. Penelope, understandably distressed, comes down from her private quarters. Jackson: Makes sense. She’s probably thinking, "My husband is one of those heroes, could you maybe play something a little more upbeat?" Olivia: Precisely. She politely asks the bard to change the tune. A reasonable request from the lady of the house. But then her son, Telemachus—who’s just a young man, barely a grown-up—steps in. He turns to his mother in front of everyone and says, and this is a direct quote from Beard’s translation: 'Mother, go back up into your quarters, and take up your own work, the loom and the distaff… speech will be the business of men, all men, and of me most of all; for mine is the power in this household.' Jackson: Whoa. Hold on. So a teenager basically tells his mom, the queen, 'This is man's talk, go away and do some sewing.' And that's our literary starting point for gender relations in the West? Olivia: That is the first recorded moment in all of Western literature where a man tells a woman to shut up. Beard’s point is that this isn't just a family tiff. It's a foundational scene that explicitly defines public speech as a masculine domain. Growing into a man, for Telemachus, meant learning how to silence a woman—even his own mother. Jackson: That is… chillingly specific. It feels uncomfortably close to the modern idea of ‘mansplaining’ or a woman being talked over in a meeting. Is that the connection Beard is making? That this ancient pattern is still playing out? Olivia: It’s exactly the connection. This isn't just an ancient artifact; it's the blueprint. Beard shares a more modern, but equally telling, example. It’s a cartoon from the mid-20th century British magazine Punch. The scene is a corporate boardroom, all men, except for one woman, Miss Triggs. The chairman says, 'That's an excellent suggestion, Miss Triggs. Perhaps one of the men here would like to make it.' Jackson: Ouch. That is brutal. It’s not just silencing her, it’s outright idea theft, laundered through male authority. It’s the same principle as Telemachus, just in a suit instead of a toga. Olivia: Exactly. The voice of authority is assumed to be male. And if a woman has a good idea, it needs to be validated by a man's voice to be heard. It’s a pattern that gets repeated over and over. Beard even brings up the 2017 incident in the US Senate where Senator Elizabeth Warren was formally silenced for reading a letter from Coretta Scott King, while her male colleagues, like Bernie Sanders, were later allowed to read the very same letter without penalty. Jackson: Right, I remember that. The phrase "Nevertheless, she persisted" came from that moment. It’s incredible how the rules, even formal ones, can be bent to fit this ancient template of who is allowed to speak. Olivia: And the abuse women get online for speaking up? Beard argues it's the same impulse. The threats are often explicitly about silencing them: 'Shut up, you bitch,' or threats of violence aimed at the throat or tongue. It’s a visceral, primal reaction to a woman stepping into what has, for millennia, been defined as 'man's talk.' Jackson: So this isn't just about disagreement. It's about policing the boundaries of public discourse. That’s a much deeper, and frankly, more unsettling idea. Okay, so women are told to be quiet. But what happens when they refuse? What happens when they actually get power?

Olivia: That's exactly where Beard takes us next. And her argument is just as profound. She says our entire cultural template for what power looks like is male. So when a woman steps into that role, we don't know how to process it. We either try to shoehorn her into the male template, or we see her as a monster. Jackson: A monster? That sounds a bit extreme. Like, we might call a female boss 'difficult,' but a monster? Olivia: Think about the language. Headlines about women gaining positions of authority often use words like 'power grab.' As if they're illegitimately seizing something that doesn't belong to them. And to understand the 'monster' part, Beard takes us to another ancient myth: Medusa. Jackson: Okay, Medusa I know. Snakes for hair, turns you to stone if you look at her. A classic villain. Olivia: But what’s her origin story? In most versions, she was a beautiful woman who was raped by the god Poseidon inside the temple of the goddess Athena. And how does Athena react? She punishes Medusa, the victim, by turning her into a hideous monster with a deadly gaze. Jackson: Wow, that’s a terrible story. So her monstrosity isn't inherent; it's a punishment for being a victim of male violence. I never thought of it that way. Olivia: And Beard argues that Medusa becomes the ultimate symbol of male terror at female power. She is a woman whose authority is dangerous, illegitimate, and terrifying. And what is the heroic act? For the hero, Perseus, to kill her. To decapitate her. It's the ultimate act of silencing and neutralizing a threatening woman. Jackson: And he uses her severed head as a weapon… so he co-opts her power after destroying her. That’s… a lot to unpack. I always just thought she was a cool video game boss, not a symbol of patriarchal anxiety. Olivia: And that’s the power of these myths! They seep into our subconscious. Beard points out how in recent history, images of Medusa's severed head—held aloft by a male hero—have been photoshopped onto the bodies of female politicians like Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel, and Theresa May. It’s a modern, digital version of the same ancient story: a powerful woman is a monster who must be slain. Jackson: That’s horrifying. It’s a direct visual line from an ancient myth to a modern political attack. It’s essentially a threat. Olivia: It is. And if a woman in power isn't being turned into a monster, she’s often forced to perform masculinity to be taken seriously. Think of Queen Elizabeth I's famous speech: 'I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king.' She had to deny her womanhood to claim her power. Or Margaret Thatcher, who famously took voice lessons to lower the pitch of her voice to sound more 'authoritative'—meaning, more like a man. Jackson: This is fascinating, but it does make me wonder about something. The book has been widely praised, but some have pointed out that these examples—Hillary Clinton, Theresa May—are about a very specific type of high-profile, often white, woman. What about the double standards someone like Diane Abbott faces in the UK, who Beard mentions in the afterword? Olivia: That's a crucial point, and Beard is very clear about it. She uses the example of a disastrous radio interview Diane Abbott, who is Britain's longest-serving black MP, gave during an election. She messed up her numbers and was subjected to an absolutely horrific torrent of racist and sexist abuse. It was relentless. Jackson: And what was the comparison? Olivia: Just a few days later, Boris Johnson, a prominent white male politician, gave an equally disastrous interview where he was completely clueless about his own party's policies. The reaction? The media framed it as him being a bit of a lovable, bumbling rogue who just needed to 'get a grip.' For her, it was proof of incompetence; for him, it was just 'laddish waywardness.' Jackson: The double standard is staggering. So the intersection of sexism and racism creates an even more vicious, unforgiving form of silencing. Olivia: Exactly. The right to be wrong, the right to fail and not be destroyed for it, is a privilege that is not extended equally.

Jackson: So we have this 3,000-year-old tradition of silencing women, and when they do get power, our cultural playbook is to either demonize them as monsters or force them into a male costume. It really does feel like a lose-lose situation. Olivia: It does, which is why Beard’s ultimate argument is that we're asking the wrong question. The question isn't 'How can we fit more women into the existing structures of power?' The problem is the structure itself. The very definition of power we use is the problem. Jackson: What do you mean? Power is power, right? Being in charge. Olivia: Is it? We tend to think of power as public prestige, individual authority, the person in the big office making commands. That’s a very male-coded model. Beard argues we need to fundamentally redefine it. We need to decouple power from public prestige and think of it more as the ability to be effective, to collaborate, to make a difference. Jackson: So, moving from 'power over' to 'power to'? Olivia: Precisely. Power as a collective attribute, not a personal possession. The power to build things, to create change, to foster community. It’s not about getting a few women to the top of the old pyramid; it’s about questioning why we have a pyramid at all. Jackson: That’s a much bigger, more radical idea than just 'lean in.' It’s a call to redesign the entire game. It makes you wonder, what would our world look like if power wasn't about being the one person at the top, but about the ability to build things together? What would we even call that? Olivia: That is the question Beard leaves us with. And it’s a powerful one. We'd love to hear your thoughts on that. Find us on our socials and share what a redefined 'power' means to you. Jackson: It’s a conversation that feels more urgent than ever. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.