okay now I wanna talk about the myth I hate the MOST

Imagine, if you will, a sexist Build-A-Bear moment

qotd:

“Pygmalion saw these women waste their lives in wretched shame, and critical of faults which nature had so deeply planted through their female hearts, he lived in preference, for many years unmarried. But while he was single, with consummate skill, he carved a statue out of snow-white ivory, and gave to it exquisite beauty, which no woman of the world has ever equalled: she was so beautiful, he fell in love with his creation.”

Ovid, Metamorphoses 10. 243, trans. Brookes More.

L'origine de la sculpture ou Pygmalion amoureux de sa statue, Jean-Baptiste Regnault.

Let's get into one of the creepiest stories going around (and god is that saying something). Today I’m going to be sputtering about the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea - if you aren’t familiar with this particular story prepare to be upset/disturbed. If you know the myth and think it’s romantic I have QUESTIONS. If you are familiar with it and hate it, hello and welcome.

SO, once upon a TIME, there was a Cypriot king named Pygmalion, who was sulking because all the women around him had ~ fallen into sin ~ (become sex workers). He did what any self-respecting incel would do and turned to ART (god if only), choosing to focus on his sculpture-making to help block out the bothersome hussies that were floating around. Throwing himself into creative pursuits, Pygmalion manages to sculpt a woman that finally passes muster (thank god. I was worried. were you worried?). Seriously, the king sculpts a woman which he then promptly falls in love with.

You’ve heard of Build-A-Bear, but can I interest you in Build-A-Bitch? I hate it here.

Pygmalion prays to Aphrodite, the goddess of love and sex, BEGGING her to breathe life into literal marble. Aphrodite takes pity on this absolute FRUITLOOP and 💥 bam 💥 enter Galatea. Then they get married. Ick.

The main source we’ve got for this lovely/super romantic/not creepy story is old boy Ovid, who was a Roman poet writing in the 1st century AD. Pygmalion and Galatea can be found in Metamorphoses, a whole collection of stories all about transformation (I want to get into Apollo and Daphne but we don’t have TIME). Ovid describes how Pygmalion hides from the sinful womenfolk, sculpting a marble woman who is staggeringly beautiful, surpassing all mortal women (he’s not silly enough to compare her to Aphrodite so at least there’s that). He gazes upon her, “inflamed” with love (again, ick.), and starts kissing/feeling up his work. He SWEARS he feels her kiss him back (sure) and starts giving her all kinds of gifts and trinkets;

“He brings to her such presents as are surely prized by sweet girls; such as smooth round pebbles, shells, and birds, and fragrant flowers of thousand tints, lilies, and painted balls.”

He also moves her around, placing her on a sofa, making sure she has a soft pillow and all that (real quick, how jacked was Pygmalion to be carting around an entire marble sculpture? But I mean she’s the ideal woman so I’m sure she weighs no more than twelve kilos).

I can’t.

After an unspecified time of playing house, Pygmalion visits the altar of Aphrodite, making a generous offering, praying to the goddess to transform his “ivory maiden.” The goddess hears him and decides to grant his request, causing the flames at her altar to flicker approvingly. Pygmalion SPRINTS home and starts kissing his sculpture, feeling the marble yield under his hands, turning to flesh. The king can scarcely believe it, his creation has been transformed into a living, breathing woman.

“The maiden felt the kisses given to her, and blushing, lifted up her timid eyes, so that she saw the light and sky above, as well as her rapt lover while he leaned gazing beside her.”

The goddess blesses the marriage and Pygmalion and Galatea live happily ever after. I mean come ON.

I haven’t exactly tried to hide my lack of affection for this myth but let me EXPLAIN. Firstly it romanticises the HELL out of virginity, the idea that feminine purity is the absolute, ultimate ideal. Pygmalion is horrified by the saucy, sexual women that actually exist and so wants to create a woman that is virginal, unsullied, so he can actually be attracted to her. This whole thing legitimises the idea that sexual experience devalues women. No thank you. This myth also calls to mind the “Freeze Response,” very common amongst victims of sexual assault. In spite of the sculpture not responding in any way, Pygmalion persists with his “affection” 🤮

ANOTHER thing is the ludicrous power imbalance!! Galatea literally wakes up to Pygmalion embracing her - she has no family, no friends, no possible frame of reference or understanding, NADA. He’s IT. Her whole world. And that just breaks my heart. Galatea IS the Born Sexy Yesterday trope (which you can read more about here), a hugely common sexual fantasy that is present in sooooo many films and tv shows (seriously you won’t be able to unsee this). Essentially it’s a female character that is BRIMMING with sex appeal, but other than their physicality, they mimic the behaviours, intelligence and attitudes of a young child. Here’s a video all about it, a harrowing watch but important: Born Sexy Yesterday. Pygmalion has manufactured a situation in which he will be loved and adored by Galatea (he’s literally brought her to life) and she NEEDS him to teach her the ways of the world (christ, it’s all so Freudian).

On a more POSITIVE note, (I am very aware this wasn’t the breeziest story to read about so let me fix it!!!), darling Mazahir, aka Girth of Venus, created a wonderful, gender-swapped piece of art which, I will admit, makes the whole scenario seem a hell of a lot more romantic. But I think that’s down to Mazahir’s talent more than anything else.

See this makes it much more about adoration + pining/less about misogyny + objectification. Also the scarf is v whimsical.

ALSO, on the topic of retellings/adaptations that actually suit our cultural moment, my dear friend Danielle recently shared a poem with me - Pygmalion’s Bride by Carol Ann Duffy - which, rather savagely (in a good way), recounts the story from the perspective of the sculpture. It’s brilliant ~ here’s a little excerpt:

“He spoke -
blunt endearments, what he’d do and how.
His words were terrible.
My ears were sculpture,
stone-deaf shells.
I heard the sea.
I drowned him out.”

click there ^ or here to read the whole thing, it’s a treat.

In CONCLUSION, I guess the bottom line is if you aren’t having much like with dating apps, get cracking with some PlayDoh. Or find some smooth pebbles to give to the person you’ve got a crush on, idk.