Past & Present & Past

A few days ago, we went to see Bethany Hughes speak at Toppings. It had been my other half’s suggestion. I didn’t know who she was and encountered a charismatic, absorbing and mind-blowing speaker. The type of lecturer that academic structures work hard in destroying, in case students have too much fun learning from a woman. 

The event was in an Episcopalian church; the topic, ‘Venus and Aphrodite’, the title of her latest book. How the Greek tradition developed the goddess of love, beauty and sexuality, and how the Romans stole those features to build Venus, and how, eventually, the Christian tradition tamed and eroded the more pleasurable traits in the figure of Virgin Mary. 

We were in our pews, attentively listening to how Aphrodite was born out after Cronus castrated Uranus and threw his genitals to the sea. The goddess emerged from that foam; Hughes couldn’t afford t0 be prudish. She also knew that we’re so simple-minded that the best way to keep us engaged was punctuating her discourse with small doses of sassiness. 

Two days later, the anecdote I most remember doesn’t have to be with sexuality, but with hairdos. Cleopatra became obsessed with Aphrodite, who in the imagery, had golden hair. The Pharaoh obviously could afford real gold as an accessory. In contrast, the Egyptian and Roman woman resorted to buying the hair of the British slaves taken or stolen from Britain. Hughes looked at the audience and point out some heads, ‘You know, like yours.’

It wasn’t a political event. Still, does the past have any other purpose than explaining and preventing a bad present day? Not even in the Q&A did someone mention the parallels with the present moment. I surprised myself smiling, somehow comforted by the justice. Also, deeply ashamed of myself a few seconds later: as soon as I understood how contagious hate is.