If you only dare to look at the Medusa face-to-face, you'll see she's not homicidal.
She's beautiful and she's laughing.
The Laugh of the Medusa still echoes with many sympathetic readers concerned to ensure that the feminine is neither marginalised nor trivialised within the space of literature and the world of politics.
And it continues to resonate with those of us interested in a practice of writing that is above all else joyful. In which, as Roland Barthes says, everything is under assault and begins to come apart; in which language is a powerful flow of words that carries us away from old certainties and habits of thought and speech.
It's nice to remember that you don't have to angry to be militant and that you don't have to be militant to be radical; that revolution is only ever a smile away and does not necessitate the turning of warm flesh into cold stone, or the hardening of hearts.
