Historical Heroines

by Historical Heroines- 100 Women You Should Know About (retail) (epub)

  Juvenal named her the ‘Whore Princess’. His famous satires describe how she snuck out of the palace in disguise and hurried to a brothel. Here she had her own ‘red-light’ chamber where she could have sex until dawn and then ‘reluctantly’ sneak back to Claudius’s bed.

  Messalina was also painted as a scheming, power-mad traitor who held the ‘weak and feeble’ Claudius by the balls. The historian Tacitus was particularly eloquent, claiming she convinced Claudius of numerous plots against him, resulting in a series of exiles, executions and suicides.

  Depicting Claudius as the beleaguered cuckold, a hen-pecked emperor would have been a clever nail in the Imperial Caesar government. Presenting Messalina as a rampantly sexual manipulator suited republican historians’s agendas.

  The proverbial last straw was when she married another man whilst Claudius was away. Did she do this for sexual reasons or, more likely, as a last-ditch attempt to secure power for her son Britannicus. Before she had a chance to persuade Claudius that ‘it’s not what it looks like’, his servants had killed her, believing this to be a political deposition.

  But what was the truth? Did she really have the libido of a randy teenage boy overdosing on Viagra? Did she cheerfully and ruthlessly eradicate every opponent to her son’s succession? We will never know her own thoughts let alone those of her supporters thanks to the sanctions imposed against her name after her treasonous coup d’état.

  It’s likely any misdeeds keeping her awake at night arose from a guilty conscience about political opponents she viciously put down rather than from a night at the whorehouse. Few characters from Roman history fare well in those terms, and many of them dealt with their enemies the same way.

  Mileva Maric (19 December 1875–4 August 1948)

  It could often be said that behind every truly great male theoretical physicist is usually his wife, an arguably equally brilliant physicist, who didn’t get the recognition she deserved because her husband was not a very nice man. We’re talking about Mileva Maric, who until relatively (pun intended) recently was known only as Albert Einstein’s first wife.

  Born in Serbia in 1875, her liberal-minded father arranged for her not only to attend the male-only Royal Classical High School in Zagreb, but later to attend physics lectures which were otherwise closed to girls. She was top of the class for maths and physics.

  In 1896 Albert and Mileva met as students at the Polytechnic Institute in Zurich and shared a passion for physics and for each other. She was the only woman in her group of students. As their studies progressed they would often be similarly matched in grades, although Mileva would fall at the final hurdle in her last teaching diploma exams. Three months pregnant with Albert’s daughter Liserl, she attempted the exam once more only to fail again. The baby, born in January 1902, then disappears from public view. No records of her survive – it is not known what happened to her.

  Despite the objections of his family, Albert and Mileva would marry on 6 January 1903 and live together for ten years. However they often spent long periods apart, when she would suffer from bouts of depression. Their sons Hans-Albert and Eduard followed on 14 May 1904 and 28 July 1910 respectively.

  Their mutual passion for intellectual stimulus, ideas and learning would continue. They would study side by side, Albert making it clear in his correspondence that his brilliant wife’s influence was indispensable to him, although as his star began to shine she would increasingly take on all the traditional domestic duties of a ‘good’ wife, and he would find other scientists to play with.

  Whilst they had done the work and study together, any published material was under his name only; perhaps they feared their studies wouldn’t be taken seriously if a woman’s name was attached to them? Or perhaps naively Mileva thought their relationship, work and personal, would stand the test of time and co-authorship of their work was just a detail. They were both open about the team effort of their scientific studies in their correspondence. Mileva however would never have any theories or papers written solely in her name.

  That is until it all began to unravel. In 1912 Albert had an affair with his cousin Elsa Lowenthal; Mileva would take the boys and move to Zurich. Einstein sent her an astonishing list of demands that he insisted must be met if they were to stay together, including that his laundry was done, she’d provide him with three meals a day, he refused to go out or travel with her and that under no circumstances was she to expect conjugal relations. What a prince of a man.

  They would live apart until their eventual divorce in 1919. Upon their eventual split, she insisted that any money he might receive from winning the Nobel Prize for his 1905 paper on special relativity go to her, which it did in the divorce settlement. This could arguably be proof that she at the very least contributed to his work, if only, as critics of this idea suggest, as a sounding board. Albert would go on to marry Elsa just three months after the divorce was made final, although he didn’t stay faithful to her either.

  Any attempts after that by Mileva’s family and friends to fight for equal-name recognition on Einstein’s work were met with a strong wall of resistance from him, his legal team and those hell-bent on preserving his reputation. In letters Albert would even mock her, saying that if it weren’t for his accomplishments no one would even pay attention to her.

  Mileva would die alone at the age of 72 in Zurich.

  Mirabal Sisters

  Patria Mercedes Mirabal (1924–25 November 1960)

  Minerva Argentina Mirabal (1926–25 November 1960)

  Antonia Maria Teresa Mirabal (1935–25 November 1960)

  The tremendous bravery shown by the Mirabal sisters of the Dominican Republic warrants proper use of the phrase awe-inspiring in a way that should strike awesome from the Californian lexicon forever. Such courageous martyrs come along rarely, male or female.

  And who would have guessed that these well-to-do, middle-class, Catholic-educated mums would become such defiant revolutionaries that rallied a nation. Patria, Minerva and Maria Teresa are remembered reverently as Les Mariposas – the butterflies, after their secret codename. Like their namesake, these beautiful and vital sisters would forfeit their lives too soon.

  They lived under the tyrannical rule of Trujillo, who was almost a caricature of an evil dictator so closely did his regime follow every rule in the Dummies Guide to being a Dictator – spies check, disappearances check, unexplained deaths of those who spoke out check, infamous torture prisons check, complete control of the country’s infrastructure check, gags on media check, check and check. He ruled by fear instilling terror in all his subjects. No one knew when someone might inform on them for criticising Trujillo’s government, his ears were everywhere and then it was a one-way ticket to hell. However Trujillo used his bully boy tactics on the wrong woman and his treatment of Minerva and her sisters would be the proverbial last straw for the Dominican people.

  The trouble began for the sisters in 1949 after Trujillo invited the Mirabal family to one of his infamous parties – he had a penchant for young girls and he had his eye on Minerva. To refuse to go was tantamount to lunacy. However when he apparently tried it on, Minerva slapped him down resoundingly (some would say she actually slapped him) and the family left the party. Other accounts claim they left the party because they got caught outside in bad weather. Either way, the dictator was famous for being incredibly touchy to any perceived slight and leaving without his permission was not on. He was out for their blood now.

  Their father was arrested and treated savagely – he would be arrested several times and the strain wrecked his health resulting in his early death in 1953. The family finances were ruined, Minerva’s promising law career sabotaged before it even began and they became pariahs as people feared the repercussions of associating with them. In that same year of 1949 Minerva and her mother were put under house arrest at a hotel when they visited the capital. Some sources believe she was given the ultimatum to sleep with Trujillo or stay there but she escaped.

  Howev
er far from breaking them his treatment ignited their spark of resistance into fully-fledged rebellion. The sisters had all married husbands that were also fervently anti-Trujillo. Together in 1959 they launched the organisation the Movement of the Fourteenth of June, named after a failed coup. It was led by Minerva and her husband.

  Devastatingly the group was betrayed and hundreds were hauled to prison. However Trujillo once again underestimated his people – this time the wrath of the Catholic Church at the imprisonment of women and he felt compelled to release them. He kept the sisters’s husbands in jail though in the hope it would curb their dogged rebellion. Ha – what did I just say about underestimating?

  As he became more insecure and paranoid about being overthrown, he blamed the sisters more and more. In 1960 Minerva and Maria were arrested twice and sent to the infamous torture prison La Caruenta. This was not enough and he ordered their assassination in a singularly botched cover-up. All three sisters were intercepted on the way to visit their husbands, who had purposely been located in a remote prison.

  Their jeep was ambushed and they were dragged into nearby fields. Trujillo’s henchmen beat them mercilessly and then strangled them to death. They were then put back in the jeep and sent over a cliff to make it look like an accident. A murder – with the girls’ clearly battered bodies and fingerprints everywhere – which Miss Marple could have solved in her sleep. Gross barbarity and gross stupidity.

  It was too much. The Dominican citizens were horrified and resistance notched up several gears. Trujillo was assassinated six months later. As the people fought for freedom the legacy of the sisters encouraged many women to join the fight, although it would be a long time before democracy was restored.

  Now the sisters are remembered every 25 November on the UN-designated International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, dedicated in honour of their sacrifice, courage and devastating story.

  Moremi Ajaso (Twelfth Century)

  In recalling the bravery of a tribal queen and violent encounters between warring factions the legend of the spy Queen of the Yoruba has a strong element of cultural and historical truth about it.

  Originally from Offa, she was married to Oranmiyan, the King of Ile-Ife in south-west Nigeria, whose people were being targeted and continuously attacked and kidnapped for the slave trade by a neighbouring forest tribe, the Igbo. Moremi vowed to do everything she could to put a stop to them. Despite her husband’s protestations, she determined to go undercover and made a deal with the river goddess Esimirin, who guaranteed success if Moremi would offer a great sacrifice.

  The deal being struck, she allowed herself to be kidnapped and was taken before her enemy’s king. He was immediately besotted with her, made her a wife and took her into his confidence. Before long she discovered that the tribespeople who so terrified her own dressed up in camouflage-like raffia from the forest and wore face masks. Needless to say, to the unsuspecting Yoruba they looked like otherworldly monsters and scared the beetle-juice out of them. The Igbo king, who clearly hadn’t read the twelfth-century best-selling military mantra ‘What Not To Tell the Beautiful Spy Pretending To Be A Prisoner of War’, confided that the raffia, made of dry-grass, was extremely flammable.

  Moremi escaped back to the Yoruba and breathlessly revealed the weakness to her husband. Delighted with her bravery, intelligence and initiative, he reinstated her as princess consort and started preparations for a fightback. Sure enough, at the next raid, the Yoruba used fire-arrows to fight against their enemies, who duly went down in a blaze of glory. The river goddess then claimed her end of the bargain; Moremi naively thought a buffet of cows and bullocks would suffice. Unfortunately, the river goddess insisted that Moremi sacrifice her own son Ela, which she did, leaving her bereft.

  In recognition of the staggeringly high price she had paid for their freedom, the tribespeople vowed to hold an annual festival in her honour in the hope that Ela would return. As part of that tradition, in 2016 the current and fifty-first Ooni (ruler) of Ile-Ife Prince Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi unveiled a statue, the tallest in Nigeria, of Moremi to commemorate her courage. There is also a Moremi Beauty Pageant, part of a concerted effort to harness the Moremi legend to create a female ambassador for Yoruba, promoting culture, tourism and female empowerment.

  Nanny and the Maroons (1686–1733)

  Jamaica’s Koromantees were such fearsome leaders of the Maroon rebellions that they nearly brought the British to their knocking knees. They came from the Gold Coast in Ghana, mainly from the Ashanti and Akan tribes. And in those tribes women knew their place – as revered and respected leaders in spiritual, agricultural and, for some, military spheres. They weren’t going to take any nonsense. It’s no surprise that the awe-inspiring guerrilla and spiritual leader Nanny Maroon hailed from these proud people.

  Nanny was the leader of the Windward Maroons and took control of the mountainous Nanny Town in 1720. Her story is wrapped up in legend, oral storytelling and jaundiced ‘historical’ reporting from the British colonials whose backsides she so skillfully whipped. Separating ‘Legend’ Nanny from ‘flesh and bones’ Nanny is not important because her symbolic representation of a strong and free mama gave slaves their strength to escape, and future generations the pride they needed when recovering from slavery. She is Mother Jamaica. Some historians believe there may even have been more than one nanny – that means a whole slew of hard-core rebel women. No wonder the British sent letters home pleading for help.

  The practice of obeah (similar to Haiti’s voodoo) was a crucial element of Maroon resistance and culture. Nanny was a shaman in obeah and her rituals were considered crucial to the success of the rebellions. The legends recount tales of Nanny bouncing bullets off her body, and some versions claim she even sucked the bullets in and then farted them out at the enemy. That’s a potent magic in more ways than one.

  Maroon successes encouraged plantation slaves to escape knowing there was a community to join. Maroons often raided plantations taking food, ammunition and slaves to swell their numbers – especially female slaves as family life was difficult in the harsh conditions they existed in. Historians agree, however grudgingly, that women were vital to Maroon survival. Their agricultural expertise kept starvation at bay. Women were also credited with charging plantations wielding large knives and terrifying their enemy.

  Nanny wasn’t just brawn, she was brains too. She was considered a master in strategy, guerrilla warfare and camouflage. She would dress her soldiers so expertly as trees that even a dog looking for a place to cock its leg might be fooled.

  Nanny Town was situated in mountains which could only be accessed by a single-file footpath, meaning British soldiers could be picked off one by one, allowing a tiny number of Maroons to hold their ground. Captain Stoddart finally captured the town using cannon in 1734. The stories diverge here. Some believe Nanny and several of her people died. Others claim the community had already evacuated and Stoddart was left with nowt but some abandoned huts. When a treaty was signed in 1739 to end the wars, it was said that Nanny was unhappy that the treaty stipulated Maroons must support the British and return escaping slaves. This was unacceptable because it wasn’t just physical freedom at stake, it was also ideological survival. Therefore one legend claims she carried on fighting, backed by loyal supporters, but she was forced to battle the black men who’d agreed to help the British suppress the rebellions. In the end she was shot dead because her obeah could not protect her from bullets fired by black men. However many historians believe that Nanny was dead long before the Windward Maroons signed the treaty.

  Her name invokes pride in her descendants, recalling their history of one of the few successful African rebellions – and under the guidance of a woman no less.

  Neerja Bhanot (1963–86)

  The stereotype of the air stewardess is as pervading and derogatory as those held to ridicule in a million blonde jokes. Yet these are the people who are in the front line when disaster strikes on board. Airplane
s may be safer than riding in a car until a problem occurs, then it tends to be pretty damn terrifying.

  We all wonder how we would react if placed in mortal danger. Luckily for the crew and passengers of Pan Am Flight 73 on 5 September 1986, Neerja Bhanot, the chief purser (stewardess in charge of the crew), showed amazing presence of mind and valiantly sacrificed her life when four terrorists hijacked the flight.

  Neerja Bhanot had already shown herself to be a courageous and independent young woman after leaving an abusive marriage in the 1980s. She was born in 1962 to a loving family in Chandigarh, Punjab, India. A much longed for daughter, she was affectionately known by her family as Lado, meaning loved one.

  Neerja was scouted by a photographer when she was a schoolgirl to appear as the ‘girl next door’ in a modelling shoot. She went on to become a successful model appearing in many adverts across India. To please her family, she agreed to an arranged marriage in 1985 and flew to the Gulf to live with her new husband. While there, she was subjected to hostile demands for a dowry, no access to money, verbal abuse and starved. When she returned to India for a modelling shoot, her husband sent a letter with a series of demands including cutting off contact with her family. Neerja decided to leave him, a bold move for a traditional girl, but she had the support of her family.

  Soon after that decision she applied for the role of air steward with Pan Am and she was one of a small number selected from 10,000 applicants. Such a job was considered very prestigious and she was delighted to join the company. Her training may have covered service duties but security drills were and still are a priority.