Divinity in Femininity
Out of all of the novels I have read so far, Circe is easily my favorite. I can’t explain the chord that it’s struck within me. I not only relate to Circe in many ways, but I also admire her immensely. She’s like Wonder Woman, but less sexualized and has actual magic to help her.
One of my favorite parts of Circe’s narrative is how imperfect she is. Right from the beginning she is considered ugly and lesser for her eyes, speech, interests, and abilities. As the story continues, these attributes are still sore spots that the gods and her family like to poke at. However, she grows and expands upon these imperfections and uses them to her advantage; from calming and tricking mortals with her voice to asserting her power with her eyes to discovering her magic by herself and becoming even more powerful than her siblings.
One of my favorite parts of Circe’s narrative is how imperfect she is. Right from the beginning she is considered ugly and lesser for her eyes, speech, interests, and abilities. As the story continues, these attributes are still sore spots that the gods and her family like to poke at. However, she grows and expands upon these imperfections and uses them to her advantage; from calming and tricking mortals with her voice to asserting her power with her eyes to discovering her magic by herself and becoming even more powerful than her siblings.
When Circe is beginning to form a relationship with Odysseus, she continually comments to him and herself about his scars. She does this several times throughout the novel when she comes into contact with mortals. Circe says she loves scars, the look of them, the feel of them beneath her fingers, the stories that they hold, and even fantasizes about having scars and physical imperfections of her own. In my personal experiences, many women that I’ve talked to love the imperfections and unconventional features of men and women. These have included scars, big noses, wide eyes, freckles, gap teeth, love handles, and countless other facets of the human body. Perhaps I’m biased, but I have never heard a man make comments like these. A man would never comment on a man or woman’s unconventional beauty, whether out of disgust, dislike, or fear, I couldn’t tell you. Likewise, the men in Circe see the goddesses and nymphs as beautiful and divine creatures. Circe herself cannot compare to them, and she is treated poorly because of her appearance.
This isn’t a deep insight, but I just want to comment on the use of natural scenery and green magic. As someone who loves nature and loves reading about natural remedies that people used thousands of years ago, Circe’s powers and knowledge absolutely amazed me. I know this is a made-up story but the little kid part of me wishes that I, too, could have a lion as a friend, perform magic at my will, and be constantly surround by the beauty and power of plants.
I feel that Circe can serve as an idol for many women in so many different ways. She is a literal goddess and yet she is bullied, exiled by family members, subject to the rollercoaster of falling in love, fails at things she had confidence in, raped by strangers, abandoned during her pregnancy, and made dozens of sacrifices that came back to bite her. All women have experienced one, if not all, of these unfortunate events. Yet, Circe still picks herself back up and finds solace in herself and her home. She has been alone her whole life; now she finds comfort in the loneliness. She knows that others, gods and mortals alike, will fail her. But she will always have her body, her magic, her will, her mind, and her heart, and at the end of the day, those things will lay beside her like an old friend. Despite her tragedies, she is still a goddess, and I think that is something that we mortal women can take inspiration from. Despite our own personal tragedies, we are still goddesses, capable of weaving our own magic, and in that sense, we are never alone.