You will surely know the myth of Sisyphus. The poor devil climbed the great stone over and over again. This story has often been considered as a unique metaphor for human existence. Myths, besides trying to make sense of the events of reality, taught exemplary behaviors thanks to the adventures of heroes. "Do like Heracles, man! Be brave and powerful!” It is often forgotten that, through the stories of the great punished, they also indicated inappropriate behaviors, becoming a very effective moral warning. “Don’t do this, Prometheus, or you will receive eternal punishment!” These threats thus became an inner voice that reminded human beings how to act and how not to act. As we know, Christianity took great advantage of this repressive mechanism.

If we looked at life in the 21st century, we would realize that that moral aspect of mythical thinking hasn't disappeared at all. On the contrary, we can say that it has been transformed very effectively throughout history. Many of the archetypes embodying mythology can easily be identified in our daily lives, even more so in this manicured society, which tends to extremes and feeds on hatred. For us or against us. Good or bad. Normal or not normal. Hero or traitor. Matxiruloa or feminazia.

Throughout the history of philosophy, we have tried to identify, analyze and critically deconstruct these invisible moral models present in our society. On 25 November, International Day against Violence against Women, I thought it appropriate to bring up another myth. Perhaps, being women protagonists, you will not be as known as other epistemic injustices that go through history.

The Danaides were fifty daughters of King Danao of Libya. An oracle suggested to Danao that he should not fight his twin, Egypt, and his fifty sons, Egiptidas. Following his advice, he fled with his daughters to Argos, in Greece. Unfortunately, the Egyptians found the Danaides and, to resolve this conflict, they proposed to their uncle to marry their cousins. Danao nodded, but because he did not trust his nephews, he ordered his daughters to kill their husbands on the same wedding night. All the daughters fulfilled their father's will, except the older ones. The Hypernestra, when falling in love with her husband, Linceo, saved him. That's why he suffered his father's reproach for not obeying his order. Danao also found his new partners with whom he lived with the rest of his daughters. When they died, the Danaides were permanently condemned in the Hades for the crime they had committed in the past: they would fill with water, in all eternity, the boats used for the wedding bath, not knowing that these murks were sanctified. As soon as they were filled, the fires would be emptied, giving a new beginning to a vicious and existential circle.

I am particularly moved by this myth, because we could regard it as a symbol of patriarchy. If I look around, we can easily identify the many archetypes of this story and the actions that still persist among us: agreements concluded without taking into account the aspirations of women, structural violence, intra-family violence, oppression, idealization of romantic love, the harsh consequences of not obeying (and obeying) patriarchy, mansplaining, praise of the traditional role and suffering of women and the elimination of their voices.

As a feminist, I want to empathize with Danaideak. In a way, in this myth I see the lives of many women and myself reflected. When it comes to dismantling the behaviors and beliefs that the heteropatriarchate imposes on the social level, I often feel like Danaideak. Debates, institutions, campaigns, workshops, courses, lectures, books, demands, magazines, demonstrations, new laws, concentrations, co-education projects, congresses, feminist pedagogical activities… in the name of feminism, we strive time and time again to fill that “boat” to improve the world and, time and time again, empties us every time we hear of a male murder of a woman, whenever a rape occurs. The list of examples seems infinite and often fills us with despair. How not!

Since I met this myth, I have always tried to get into the head of the Danaides. What would you think of filling those dyes? How would you feel if you were free? And most importantly, what lesson can we draw from this myth? I am clear about that. We can do nothing other than fill the feminist “boats” and, in fact, become the only way to achieve equality, respect and justice. The sculptor Rodin sculpted a Danaide. The artist, accused of disdain women, presents us with a woman without energy, sad, desperate and isolated. I imagine the Danaides differently, forming a network of courageous women, never giving up. Today and always remember that fraternity is the perfect base of the feminist revolution. As an educator, I will continue to fill those feminist tinas in tribute to Danaideak, following this thought by Jule Goikoetxea: “Without confrontation, change is impossible.”