White Women Who Tell Me I Look Like Medusa.

Earlier this week, I was strolling through a college library when a white woman flagged me down.

She smiled widely and got this sensational look in her eyes as she unraveled her story: “I saw you on the lawn the other day, and just that night I had a dream about Medusa. I woke up and wrote about it, and then I saw you with your hair and I was like Wow! It must be a sign.”

“Oh yeah…I get the Medusa thing a lot,” I said with a smile.

She must have sensed the hint of tiredness in my voice, because she immediately clarified that she meant it in a good way.

I already knew she meant it in a “good” way, whatever that must mean in her world-and yet, it made no difference.

I smiled back and said, “You know, someone else had suggested I dress up for Medusa as Halloween. I’m sure I could pull it off…Anyway, I’m glad I could inspire you!” I left, and went along my day.

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That must have been the dozenth highly enthusiastic comment I’ve received from a white woman about me looking like Medusa this year. But this one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Up until that point, it had all faded into the background like white noise. Perhaps I never had the emotional capacity or support to really unpack my feelings about it.

But when I heard myself repeat out loud, the idea of cosplaying a sexy Medusa for Halloween because of the way my natural hair looks—I finally asked myself how I truly felt about it.

…

Intuitively, the Medusa comments never resonated with me. White folks seem so happy to tell me that I look like Medusa. Perhaps they think it’s cool. For me, it was always just like…ok…thanks? It never read to me, as a wholesome compliment.

My immediate vision of Medusa is a ferocious, ugly green monster with moving snakes for hair. I vaguely understood Medusa to be a tragic character—which I’ve confirmed after reading her true story:

Medusa, originally a beautiful maiden, was cursed by the goddess Athena after being raped by Poseidon in Athena's temple, transforming her into a monstrous Gorgon with snakes for hair….Her appearance was so hideous that anyone who looked upon her was turned to stone.¹

So, these white folks are comparing me to mythical monster woman, whose snake-like hair is considered ugly by her peers, and whose appearance was the product of punishment and rape.

Yes, her hideousness turns men to stone and I guess that’s ¡like sew fierce and feminist! *limp wrist*…but she is also murdered by a man at the end of the story.

How cliché.

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My hair primarily looks the way that it does because I chose to freeform my locs from a young age. After more than a decade of having my locs, I began to experiment with bantu knots and other natural African styles. The big bodacious curls that white women have associated with Medusa are actually just my bantu knot-out.

People of all races give me genuine compliments on my hair. And, most white folks who comment on my hair do not mention Medusa. But I do notice that the Medusa commentary has never once come from a black person. Amongst black people who appreciate my hair, it’s always just that my hair is beautiful.

I am beautiful.

And that is also how I see myself. I love my hair and all the versatility it carries. But I want to be clear that although I have recently come to enjoy styling my locs, my freeform locs are not a style by themselves, nor were they ever intended to be.

My locs are a product of my spiritual journey. They are a reclamation of my natural body, culture, and self-love after enduring a lifetime of internalized racism and its accompanying self-harm. I even wrote a memoir about my loc journey.

This is one way that the white gaze can distort and cheapen things that have deep cultural significance.

And this is also one reason why I don’t like to immerse myself in white spaces. It’s because I often do not feel seen.

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So, from now on I no longer indulge the Medusa comments.

Personally, I think I look nothing like Medusa.

Now, could I pull her off as a Halloween costume? Probably.

Could it be fun and artsy? Maybe.

If I decided to dress up as Medusa for Halloween, would I attend a costume party where I’m surrounded by white folks who will indulge that sort of imagery and treat it like a minstrel show?

Nah.

As I move to a black neighborhood, I look forward to immersing myself in a community where my hair can be appreciated for the richness, beauty, and history it carries, rather than being constantly compared to a monstrous greek figure.

1. Google’s AI Overview on the story of Medusa. Last sentence is from Wikipedia.