Claiming the Medusa within

In my life, I have only had one majorly derisive nickname: Medusa. I am unsure why the kids in fourth grade thought this was a good name for me (this was prior to the release of "Clash of the Titans," so I can't blame the odd Saturday matinee), but it had the desired affect. I would cry at recess and then the next day put on a brave face (after a stiff upper lip talk from my mother or father) and act like it didn't bother me, which it did. A LOT. My sister, in an act of pure teenage cluelessness, gave me a card on my 10th birthday that said, "Happy Birthday, Medusa!" which was amazingly mean. It was one thing if kids tease you on the playground, but it's another when it's your family mimicing them.

The entire Medusa period probably didn't last long, and certainly didn't cause any After School Special-type drama, but it has stuck with me as the first time other people made me feel bad about who I was just because I was being who I was. As a nickname though, it was quite impressive for Salem, a town known for its cops and criminals, not its intellectual prowess.

So. Cut to many, many years and some art history classes later when we meet our heroine walking with furrowed brow through the last hallways of the Ufitzi Gallery in Florence. I was quite sick that day and couldn't handle the crowds, so I left my mother to wander and quickly made my way outside. The Caravaggio room in the gallery is toward the exit and impossible to miss. I walked inside, saw "Bacchus" went, "Cool!", and then turned around and came face to severed head with my namesake. "Medusa" is fabulous and horrible and really, really (I'll say it again) cool. I sort of giggled and did an invisible salute because I realized I had a special connection with that painting. I know it sounds cheesy, but it is true.

The next day, when mom and I were in the gift shop at the Academia, I found a Swatch-type watch with the Medusa painting printed on the face and nifty snake patterns on the band. Without a second thought, I bought it and have been looking at it with glee ever since.

How did I miss the good side of being called Medusa? I thought it was all about having stringy, snake-like hair, but actually it is about having power and the will to use it. OK, so it isn't a sexy, Siren-type power, but it is power none the less. Instead of being called "stinky" or "big nose," I was compared to one of the classic villains of Greek mythology. How freaking cool is that? I mean, come on, if you are going to be insulted by children, wouldn't you prefer a literary reference over a comment on your physical attributes or being teased because your name rhymes with a bodily function?

So bring it on. Medusa is in the haaaaaa-oooooo-wwwwww-ssssss.
I am so white.