Prayers to Persephone: Part II

Homeric Hymn to Demeter

She was having a good time, along with the daughters of Okeanos, who wear their girdles slung low.

She was picking flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth.

And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl by Gaia. All according to the plans of Zeus. She was doing a favor for the one who receives many guests. It was a wondrous thing in its splendor. To look at it gives a sense of holy awe to the immortal gods as well as mortal humans. It has a hundred heads growing from the root up. Its sweet fragrance spread over the wide skies up above. And the earth below smiled back in all its radiance. So too the churning mass of the salty sea.

She was filled with a sense of wonder, and she reached out with both hands to take hold of the pretty plaything.

And the earth, full of roads leading every which way, opened up under her.

It happened on the Plain of Nysa. There it was that the Lord who receives many guests made his lunge.

He was riding on a chariot drawn by immortal horses. The son of Kronos. The one known by many names. He seized her against her will, put her on his golden chariot, And drove away as she wept. She cried with a piercing voice, calling upon her father, the son of Kronos, the highest and the best.

But not one of the immortal ones, or of human mortals, heard her voice. Not even the olive trees which bear their splendid harvest. Except for the daughter of Persaios, the one who keeps in mind the vigor of nature.

She heard it from her cave. She is Hekatê, with the splendid headband. And the Lord Helios heard it too, the magnificent son of Hyperion. They heard the daughter calling upon her father, the son of Kronos. But he, all by himself, was seated far apart from the gods, inside a temple, the precinct of many prayers. He was receiving beautiful sacrificial rites from mortal humans. She was being taken, against her will, at the behest of Zeus, by her father’s brother, the one who makes many sêmata, the one who receives many guests, the son of Kronos, the one with many names. On the chariot drawn by immortal horses.

So long as the earth and the star-filled sky were still within the goddess’s view, as also the fish-swarming sea, with its strong currents, as also the rays of the sun, she still had hope that she would yet see her dear mother and that special group, the immortal gods. For that long a time her great noos was soothed by hope, distressed as she was. The peaks of mountains resounded, as did the depths of the sea, with her immortal voice. And the Lady Mother heard her. And a sharp akhos seized her heart. The headband on her hair she tore off with her own immortal hands and threw a dark cloak over her shoulders. She sped off like a bird, soaring over land and sea, looking and looking. But no one was willing to tell her the truth, not one of the gods, not one of the mortal humans, not one of the birds, messengers of the truth. Thereafter, for nine days did the Lady Demeter wander all over the earth, holding torches ablaze in her hands. Not once did she take of ambrosia and nectar, sweet to drink, in her grief, nor did she bathe her skin in water.

But when the tenth bright dawn came upon her, Hekatê came to her, holding a light ablaze in her hands. She came with a message, and she spoke up, saying to her:

“Lady Demeter, bringer of hôrai, giver of splendid gifts, which one of the gods who dwell in the sky or which one of mortal humans seized Persephone and brought grief to your philos thûmos?

I heard the sounds, but I did not see with my eyes who it was. So I quickly came to tell you everything, without error.” So spoke Hekatê. But she was not answered by the daughter of Rhea with the beautiful hair. Instead, she joined her and quickly set out with her, holding torches ablaze in her hands. They came to Hêlios, the seeing-eye of gods and men. They stood in front of his chariot-team, and the resplendent goddess asked this question:

“Helios! Show me respect, god to goddess, if ever I have pleased your heart and thûmos in word or deed. It is about the girl born to me, a sweet young seedling, renowned for her beauty, whose piercing cry I heard resounding through the boundless aether, as if she were being forced, though I did not see it with my eyes. I turn to you as one who ranges over all the earth and sea as you look down from the bright aether with your sunbeams: tell me without error whether you have by any chance seen my philon child, and who has taken her away from me by force, against her will, and then gone away? Tell me which one of the gods or mortal humans did it.” So she spoke. And the son of Hyperion answered her with these words:

“Daughter of Rhea with the beautiful hair, Queen Demeter! You shall know the answer, for I greatly respect you and feel sorry for you as you grieve over your child, the one with the delicate ankles. No one else among all the immortals is responsible except the cloud-gatherer Zeus himself, who gave her to Hadês as his beautiful wife.

While scrolling on Booktok, looking for romance book recommendations (as any teenage girl in her twenties tends to do), I was overwhelmed by the slew of Hades x Persephone romance novel recommendations. As a classics student, I was alarmed. These books weren’t considered “dark romance” either, they were genuine, Hallmark-level romance novels about the King of the Underworld and the niece that he kidnapped and raped. I wondered where on earth this phenomenon came from, how Hades and Persephone evolved from an abusive, predatory relationship, into the “it couple” of the Greek Pantheon. Well, unsurprisingly the internet is at fault for this, with a generation of kids raised on Percy Jackson (I’m included in that, I promise) taking myths of terrible men and their atrocities and writing fanfiction of them, giving themselves a new Tumblr sexy man to thirst over. Hades turn from manipulator to malewife, from the perpetrator of violence to a wife guy standing beside his wife through it all.

But before we get into that, let’s clarify the original myth of Hades and Persephone so that we are all on the same page about who these deities are. Persephone was born of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, and Zeus, king of the gods. While Zeus wasn’t involved in Persephone’s childhood, Demeter doted on her daughter, showering her with flowers and friends and a life that she loved. While living this life she loved, picking flowers with her friends, she was lured away by prettier and prettier flowers until the ground opened up beneath her and Hades dragged her away, bringing Persephone to the Underworld to be his wife. There is a statue that portrays this exact moment by Gian Lorenzo Bernini, called “The Rape of Proserpina” (Proserpina being Persephone’s Roman name). What strikes me about this statue (pictured to the side), is how anguished Persephone's face looks at being grabbed. She is pushing Hades away, she doesn’t want him near her and she is not willingly going with him. How can anyone go from this to a power couple?

Once Persephone is trapped in the Underworld, she does not eat or drink, hoping that her mother will come to save her, knowing that if she does, she will be stuck in the Underworld forever. But, it’s taking a while for her mother to negotiate her release, so Persephone, a desperately young girl, eats three little pomegranate seeds to buy her some time until Demeter can get her out. Those three seeds seal Persephone’s fate, for when her mother comes for her, she cannot forever remove her daughter, for those seeds force Persephone back into the Underworld for three months out of the year, never allowing her to escape Hades’s clutches. That is the story of Hades and Persephone, one of entrapment, not love.

But, that all changed the day Rachel Smythe, a New Zealand graphic designer, entered the scene with a webcomic called Lore Olympus.

The gods are now brightly colored drawings placed into a modern setting, with Persephone no longer being the beloved daughter of the goddess of the harvest, but a girl desperate to escape an overbearing mother who won’t let her blossom. She clumsily moves her way through Olympus, later literally falling into the arms of Hades (literally tall, dark, and handsome, his midnight blue form towering over the tiny, yet incredibly sexy and curvy, pink Persephone). What follows is the slowest burn in history, between Hades and Persephone. The comic became a cultural touchstone on Tumblr and beyond, being the most viewed Webtoon on the site in 2019. Rachel Smythe was able to physically publish the comic and Sydney Sweeney played Persephone in a short film for the site. Despite a lot of writing problems and heinous mythological inaccuracies, the phenomenon of Hades and Persephone was not going away.

Greek mythology does not lack powerful female characters, yet people take myths and create new ones every day. There are goddesses like Artemis, Athena, Aphrodite (yes, Aphrodite), etc. who have stories of their “feminist” (as feminist as Ancient Greece could get), yet people try to change the story.

Medusa becomes a symbol of sexual violence, which I adore, but Athena’s wrongs are taken away as the story changes from the gods’ pride to a woman’s protection. Persephone and her mother did experience cult worship in Ancient Greece, but it did not make them any less feminine and it did not make them any less powerful. Yet, so many authors take this cult worship and turn Persephone into a vengeful goddess, her death-ruling husband by her side, completely taking Demeter out of the equation. Feminity can be powerful and victims can remain victims while being powerful. That is something I think many people who author work about Persephone fail to realize. Why must Persephone only gain power with a man by her side? Why do we have to link her to her rapist forever? There are other love stories in myth between a tall, dark, and handsome man and the feminine, powerful goddess he loves (like Ares and Aphrodite), yet Hades and Persephone are the trends. I think women are always drawn to the darkness and this is not a trend that is going away. I can pray and plead but unfortunately, Persephone ate the pomegranate seeds, and even centuries after Greece has fallen, she cannot escape the Underworld for too long.

PatriarchalFruits

PoetrybyMinaAbida

Bepretty,Besoft.

Don’tberude,Don’tbeloud.

Don’tbetoofunny,Don’tbetoosmart. Nobodylikesaknow-it-all.

NeverforgetabouttheMadonna-Whore. Beconfidentbutnotarrogant.

Beyourselfbutnottoomuch.

LikePersephoneintheUnderworld, IwasforciblyfedwhatIthoughtwouldbedeliciousfruits. Inrealitythesevermilionseedswerenothingmorethan poison. Nothingmorethanfeminineobligations.

BeforeIcouldrealizeitthepatriarchalseedsstarted rottinginmybelly, Theonce-sweettasteturnedsouronmytongue. Nowitdisgustsme.

UnlikePersephoneintheUnderworld, Ididn’tconsumesevenpomegranateseedsbut thousands, AndsoIaskmyselfandtheskies, CanIspitthemallout? CanIgetridofthosediktats, OramItobepunishedforeternitylikethegoddess stuckinHell? Willweeverbeabletoescapethateviltriarchy? Hades,Zeus,Poseidon, Theungodlyfactionofmisogyny?

Iamtwentyintwomonths.IammourningthepatienceIwas oncegrantedwhenIwasachild.Whyisitwhenwomencome ofagetheyareforcedtobecomewidowstothelivestheyonce lived?Atitscore,agingisnotinherentlyevil,butitfeelsasifa deathislurking,abansheeinadarkcorner.I,heedingits warning.

ThoughIamhurledintolifeatfullforce,Iamquitecontent. Iamlivingalifeofmyownonmyownterms.Idon’tfeeltied downbytheweightofmymother’smistakes.However,Iam nolongerheldtogetherbystructuresIoncefeltsuchdread for.So,asIbegintoenterintowomanhood,Iamfacedwith analmostoverwhelmingcrusadeofdecision.

IamnotattheagewhereIshouldbescaredofmygraysandwrinkles.I haven’tyetreachedthetimewhereIcan’tkeepupwithmy predecessors,butIlieinaterrifyingstateinbetweenwhereIdecide whetherthatisthelifeIwantatall.WillIfightfortheunrealisticor buildasafetynetofdissatisfaction?Willmylifebedefinedbymy legacyorbyothersIcreated?Isthereadifference?

ButwhyarethesetheonlycardsI’vebeendealt?Whycan’tIhave everythingatonce?Whyhaswomanhoodbecomesuchahorrorfor younggirls? Iamintoxicatedbythethoughtofholdingmyfirstrecordinmy hands.Iaminspiredbytheideaofastagewithmynameonit.ButI feelwarmbythesmallhandkeptcloserepresentingalifethatIforged. Iamthrilledtogrowupandgrowoldandpassmystoriesdownfrom eartocuriousear.Togrowabellyofhumanandbecomeasilver-fox. So,Ifinditbothimpossiblenottofearthefuture,anddifficultnotto fiendforit.Becausedeathcomeswithchange,butalsorebirth.

The Land Of Eternal Spring

TheysaytherewasoncealandofEternalSpring

Whererollinghillsofgreenwentasfarastheeyecouldsee Bluepoolsofwaterspiraledthroughthevalleys AndthewarmthoftheSunwasfeltallaround

Butbalancewasneeded Apriceneededtobepaid. SotheEternalSpringrecededback, Andletthefreezing,darkwintertakehold.

Theysaytherewasonceawoman AdaughteroftheHarvest Who’ssimplestepontotheearthcausedowerstogrow. Andinherpath,lifewascolorfulandplentiful

Butbalancewasneeded

Apricedemandedtobepaid. Sothewomanwassentdownbelowtheearth TolivewithDeath

Whereherfootstepscouldnotyieldanyowers.

Theysaythewoman’snamewasPersephone Andiftheyprayedtoherenough, ThelandofEternalSpringwouldreturnonceagain. -Mel

Whispers through tall grass

Aplea,barelyawhisper,quietenough Toblendinseamlessly Withthefamiliarrustleoftheoutdoors

Yet,itwasheard.

TheGodsdonotalwayslistentomortals’prayers. Onlywhentheyareinterested, WhenAresisitchingforthebeautyofbloodshed, WhenPoseidonandZeusmaygrowboredoftheirtempest

AndwhenApollohasburnedthroughhishigh-horsechariot.

Sometimestheylistened.Always,though,theSpringlistened.

NotonlyaGod-abeingofunderstandingandstrength,prevailing EventhroughthecoldestmonthsofWinter

ThedaughteroftheHarvestlistened. WhoaswellfelttheapathyoftheGods, Whowasalltoousedtotheirsilenceinherpleas.

Persephonewasakintothesilentwhispers, Barelyheardovertherustleofthetallgrass

Asitusedtobeherhome.

PrayerstoPersephonewerealwaysheard. -Mel

by Cait Perry

‘I’m a star, please I’m a star!!’ hysterically screams ‘Pearl’ in Ti West’s eponymous hit slasher film, as she learns she cannot break free of the constraints of her rural life. An intense scene that was completely improvised, by the incredible Mia Goth, showing the power and passion behind her female rage- a concept that has quickly become one of the most talked about topics across social media and the art world. For so many years, women’s anger has been inaccurately portrayed by the men creating the art, villainising those who express their anger through anything other than sadness. Finally, we are starting to see a turning point. With films such as the ‘X’ series, ‘Midsommar’, ‘Gone Girl‘ and even ‘Black Swan’, popular culture is now welcoming this exploration of these intense dark feminine emotions.

Psychanalyst Carl Jung discusses how there is ‘no light without darkness’, with this ‘darkness’ representing the person we’d rather not be or the opposite of our conscious personality. Jungian theory explores how everyone possess an evil hidden ‘shadow’ of their self, which allows us to perceive and deal with the world differently to our usual conscious self. For some women written in films, this ‘dark’ ‘shadowy’ and emotional part of them is disliked by the audience- as feminist critic Kimberly John Bautista explores ‘when women get written with anger powerful enough to move the story, they are almost immediately villainised in the public eye’ Jennifer Check (Jennifer’s Body), Regina George (Mean Girls), Amy Dunne (Gone Girl)- all female characters, who I will admit are by no means perfect, but should be respected for their intense outrage and display of emotion As a female audience, these characters are encouraging as their archetypes do not fall into the trap of leaning heavily on gender roles, completely disregarding previous societal expectations of female pressure of quietness and elegance

Anger is often perceived as ‘unbecoming of a good woman’, which is why the display of female rage in media is so important as these women are elevating the portrayal of the range of female emotions. Historically, male anger and passion has been praised by storyteller’s whilst female anger was repressed to instead depict a form of sadness. Writer Leslie Jamison highlights how ‘the phenomenon of female anger has often been turned against itself’ with ‘the figure of the angry woman reframed as a threat’ - creating this notion that female anger has been perceived as unnatural or destructive. However, these female characters are no longer damsels in distress. These women are happy to show their powerful emotions, explicitly their dark anger even at the cost of being perceived as the villain.

Referring back to the iconic ‘I’m a star’ scene from ‘Pearl’, Mia Goth breaks down how she knew it was an important moment in the script but she had no real idea of how to say the line, instead she explains that her ‘body always has far better ideas than [my] head does’ and that it was an ‘instinctual reaction’. This underlines how female rage can take such a visceral and physical form, and finally contemporary media is beginning to accept this. Despite this, women have been angry for a long time! Writer’s such as Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Angela Davis, even in Greek mythology characters such as Medusa, have rejected this ‘desire’ of male scopophilia. Instead, choosing to tell stories that accurately display what is deemed as these dark female emotions. Artists should continue to make art inspired by this new found appreciation for female rage, without the need for villainization, instead bringing to light this new love for dark femininity.

MauixLolita

MauixLolita is a designer brand founded by a mother and daughter, Maui and Lolita. Their Goddess perfume reminds of us our spring Queen.

Gristle Grochet

Gristle Grochet is a small business ran by Grace. Her crystal beaded bracelets give us a chance to connect with deities.

Disland

Disland is a mixed media artist who’s photos captured the art of spring.

Jordan Fesser

Jordan is a chronic yapper and classics student who has a personal relationship with female characters in myth and thus has a lot to say about them all the time.

Melina is an Arizona based artist, writer, and designer. She has written poetry for about 6 years, and has been painting and drawing since she can remember. She has also worked in Graphic Design for 3 years now-- making various advertisements, posters, logos, and website mockups. She found inspiration for all her works in landscapes, people and feelings-- looking for ways to portray the emotion in life felt all around.

Melina Aleka Mina Abida

Mina is a feminist scholar who recently returned to her first love: literature and creative writing. She uses poetry and storytelling as spaces that give her answers and hope. Because writing is power, she believes that writing enables her to resist structures of dominations like sexism and colonialism.