100 Nasty Women of History Read online

  About the Author

  Hannah Jewell is a pop culture host and editor at The Washington Post, and a former senior writer at BuzzFeed UK, where she became known for her humour writing about gender, her satire of British and American politics.

  100 Nasty Women of History is her first book.

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © Hannah Jewell 2017

  Poems in the chapter on Ulayya bint al-Mahdi have been reproduced from Classical Poems by Arab Women by Abdullah al-Udhari with permission of the Licensor through PLSClear.

  The right of Hannah Jewell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  Hardback ISBN 978 1 473 67125 6

  Trade paperback ISBN 978 1 473 67126 3

  eBook ISBN 978 1 473 67127 0

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

  For my friend Sylvia Bingham, who was bold and brilliant and unlike anyone else.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Wonderful ancient weirdos

  1. Hatshepsut – c. 1507–1458 BC

  2. Brigid of Kildare – ?–524

  3. Sappho – c. 640–570 BC

  4. Seondeok of Silla – ?–AD 647

  5. Khayzuran – ?–AD 789

  6. Subh – ?–999

  7. Hildegard von Bingen – 1098–1179

  8. Margery Kempe – c. 1373–1438

  Women with impressive kill counts

  9. Artemisia I of Caria – 5th century BC

  10. Æthelflæd – c. AD 870–918

  11. Ælfthryth – c. AD 945–c. 1000

  12. Zenobia – c. AD 240–274

  13. Tomoe Gozen – c. 1157–1247

  14. Sorghaghtani Beki – ?–1252

  15. Wǔ Méi – 16th/17th century AD

  16. Kosem Sultan – c. 1589–1651

  17. Empress Wu – AD 624–705

  18. Laskarina Bouboulina – 1771–1825

  19. Ching Shih – 1775–1844

  Women who were geniuses despite the fact that they were girls

  20. Hypatia – c. AD 355–415

  21. Fatima al-Fihri – c. AD 800–880

  22. Wáng Zhēnyí – 1768–1797

  23. Jang-geum – 15th–16th centuries AD

  24. Artemisia Gentileschi – 1593–c. 1653

  25. Raden Ajeng Kartini – 1879–1904

  26. Emmy Noether – 1882–1935

  27. Nana Asma’u – 1793–1864

  28. Jean Macnamara – 1899–1968

  29. Annie Jump Cannon – 1863–1941

  30. Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin – 1900–1979

  31. Hedy Lamarr – 1914–2000

  32. Louisa Atkinson – 1834–1872

  33. Laura Redden Searing – 1839–1923

  34. Gabriela Brimmer – 1947–2000

  Women who wrote dangerous things

  35. Murasaki Shikibu – c. AD 978–1014

  36. Ulayya bint al-Mahdi – c. AD 777–825

  37. Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz – c. 1651–1695

  38. Tarabai Shinde – 1850–1910

  39. Phillis Wheatley – c. 1753–1784

  40. Nellie Bly – 1864–1922

  41. Elizabeth Hart – 1772–1833

  42. Jovita Idár – 1885–1946

  43. Louise Mack – 1870–1935

  44. Beatrice Potter Webb – 1858–1943

  45. Julia de Burgos – 1914–1953

  46. Marie Chauvet – 1916–1973

  47. Zabel Yesayan – 1878–1943

  48. Mirabal Sisters – Patria Mercedes Mirabal Reyes 1924–1960

  49. Mary Wollstonecraft – 1759–1797

  50. Ida B. Wells-Barnett – 1862–1931

  51. Frances Ellen Watkins Harper – 1825–1911

  52. Ethel Payne – 1911–1991

  Women who wore trousers and enjoyed terrifying hobbies

  53. Annie Smith Peck – 1850–1935

  54. Jean Batten – 1909–1982

  55. Khutulun – c. 1260–1306

  56. Pancho Barnes – 1901–1975

  57. Julie D’Aubigny – c. 1670/1673–1707

  58. Lilian Bland – 1878–1971

  59. Lotfia Elnadi – 1907–2002

  Women who fought empires and racists

  60. Queen Nanny of the Maroons – c. 1686–1755

  61. Njinga of Angola – c. 1583–1663

  62. Rani Chennamma – 1778–1829

  63. Lakshmibai, Rani of Jhansi – 1828–1858

  64. Yaa Asantewaa – c. 1840–1921

  65. Jind Kaur – 1817–1863

  66. Lozen – 1840–1889

  67. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti – 1900–1978

  68. Queen Liliuokalani – 1838–1917

  69. Fanny Cochrane Smith – 1834–1905

  70. Lillian Ngoyi – 1911–1980

  71. Miriam Makeba – 1932–2008

  72. Te Puea Herangi – 1883–1952

  73. Whina Cooper – 1895–1994

  74. Susan La Flesche Picotte – 1865–1915

  75. Sojourner Truth – c. 1797–1883

  Women who knew how to have a good-ass time

  76. Empress Theodora – c. AD 500–548

  77. Wallada bint al-Mustakfi – c. 994–1091

  78. Nell Gwynn – 1650–1687

  79. George Sand – 1804–1876

  80. Lucy Hicks Anderson – 1886–1954

  81. Mercedes de Acosta – 1893–1968

  82. Gladys Bentley – 1907–1960

  83. Coccinelle – 1931–2006

  84. Umm Kulthum – 1898/1904–1975

  85. Josephine Baker – 1906–1975

  Women who punched Nazis

  86. Sophie Scholl – 1921–1943

  87. Hannah Arendt – 1906–1975

  88. Noor Inayat Khan – 1914–1944

  89. Nancy Wake – 1912–2011

  90. Dorothy Thompson – 1893–1961

  91. Irena Sendler – 1910–2008

  Your new revolutionary role models

  92. Olympe de Gouges – 1748–1793

  93. Policarpa Salavarrieta – 1795–1817

  94. Sofia Perovskaya – 1853–1881

  95. Alexandra Kollontai – 1872–1952

  96. Juana Azurduy – 1781–1862

  97. Rosa Luxemburg – 1871–1919

  98. Constance Markievicz – 1868–1927

  99. Luisa Moreno – 1907–1992

  100. Jayaben Desai – 1933–2010

  Conclusion

  Old People Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  Bibliography

  Picture Acknowledgements

  Footnotes

  Introduction

  In the final debate of the 2016 US presidential election, Donald Trump leaned into the microphone as Hillary Clinton spoke about social security, twisted up his small, wrinkled mouth, and called his opponent ‘such a nasty woman’. The phrase
has stuck around since he first uttered it. It’s been whacked on T-shirts, it’s been put in Twitter bios, and it’s come to mean something more than either a smear of Hillary Clinton or a defiant rallying cry for her supporters. In this book, a nasty woman is one who has managed to piss off a man for not behaving as she was expected. Or for having unladylike ideas. Or for murdering him.

  When dear Donald became president, it was hard to know what to do to feel better if you weren’t a Donald fan, beyond perhaps a cathartic scream, or drinking to oblivion. So here’s a suggestion: what better time than the present to look back at the difficult women who came before us? What can we learn from them about how to live our nastiest lives?

  Often when learning about history, when you get to hear about women at all, their lives are made to sound decidedly un-nasty. As if they spent their entire time on Earth casting woeful but beautiful glances directly into their glittering futures, calmly rebuking those that would stop them from achieving their goals.

  ‘But you’re a woman!’ a powerful man says to the imagined Bold-Yet-Morally-Irreproachable Woman of History. ‘Shh, I shall overcome this difficulty,’ she replies heroically, turning to face the audience. ‘Because I am a strong, empowered woman, and I will never stop believing in the power of my dreams! Live, laugh, love.’

  Well, that isn’t how life works, and it never has been. There are no unrelentingly noble people. When you hear the story of a woman who lived a life that was 100% pure and good, you’re probably missing the best bits. The nasty bits.

  Maybe she got her tits out. Maybe she slept around. Maybe she stole. Maybe she betrayed someone, or was betrayed. Maybe she was pure and good, but made mistakes. Maybe she fought against one injustice, but ignored another. Maybe she was shot by Nazis. Maybe she shot a Nazi, or perhaps a tsar, or some twat come to colonise her country.

  These are the types of stories in this book. Please take these women’s names and commit them to your brain. Clear away the likes of Jack the Ripper, who was literally just a murderer, and John Hancock, who, let’s face it, is only famous for having a swirly signature, and make room for these names instead. They’re better. They’re lady names. They’re the names of women too brave and too brilliant and too unconventional and too political and too poor and not ladylike enough and not white enough to be recognised by their shrivel-souled contemporaries.

  Take these stories and tell them to your friends. Because these women shouldn’t only be known by a few historians. They should be so well known that their names would make terrible passwords. So well known that Netflix commissions a miniseries about their lives. (Or at least we get a Channel 5 documentary.)

  These women should be so well known that lazy eight-year-olds, when tasked with a history project about a famous person from history, say, ‘I don’t know, there are like eight books in the library about Phillis Wheatley, let’s just copy from them and call it a fucking day.’

  So well known that people dress up as slutty versions of them for Halloween, and don’t have to explain them. ‘Oh, I get it, you’re slutty Septimia Zenobia, warrior queen of 3rd-century Syria,’ your friends say when you enter the party. ‘Didn’t Jill come as that too? Awkward!’

  So well known that not one, but two members of your weekly pub quiz team will be able to instantly recall their names in the history round, despite being quite drunk.

  So well known that people incorrectly assign great inventions and achievements and conquests to them, when really the story was more complicated than that, or actually she was only one of a group of people, who maybe even included a few forgotten men. So that the conversation goes like this:

  Person A: ‘Emmy Noether invented all of mathematics.’

  Person B: ‘Yeah that sounds right, I remember learning something about her in school. She’s very well known.’

  Person A: ‘Well that settles that, let’s get tacos.’

  That well known.

  Beyond fear and bewilderment, since Trump’s election you may have found yourself in your day-to-day life as a 21st-century gal developing an overwhelming desire to climb into a womb. Any womb.

  This book is my womb. I feel most warm and most foetal when sitting in a library, absorbing stories of long-dead women as if through an umbilical cord, having promise and possibility pumped into me like so much nutritious amniotic fluid. As a foetus floats in a womb and sets about growing fingers and toes and guts and eyeballs and a brain, I have been suspended in my book-womb growing these stories one at a time.

  Reading about cool women from history just feels good. It feels like a relief. Sometimes it feels like coming up with the perfect retort for an argument you had many years ago. ‘SEE,’ you’ll want to say. ‘LOOK AT HER! THAT PROVES … MY POINT!’ It can feel bittersweet – which, by the way, was an emotion first expressed in history by a woman. Keep reading to find her. There will be a test.

  I am not a historian. This isn’t to talk myself down. I am, like all women, very clever and funny. I just don’t have a PhD. Instead, think of me as a fangirl and a journalist, who’s been travelling across space and time in search of women who may make you feel better for a moment, suspended in goodness, totally relaxed and exempt from life’s troubles, and most of all relieved to find that it’s really OK – in fact, it’s encouraged – to be nasty. Because the people who don’t like nasty women, today and in the past, generally turn out to be the bad guys.

  So join me! Come share my womb! Crawl inside it, there’s plenty of room. Where there are mistakes, forgive me. I have done the best I can, and it turns out there is a lot of history out there which I have shoved into my eye sockets, processed through the lukewarm innards of my brain, and squeezed through my fingers. It’s inevitable that some things will have gotten lost on that perilous, squidgy journey. Should you have any complaints about the need for a book such as this at all, however, kindly write your concerns on a piece of paper and deliver them directly into the sea.

  There will be no more mentions of Donald Trump in this book, because frankly I can’t be bothered. So just forget he exists for a while. It will be like a nice little vacation. His tweets can’t find you here. Unless you’re reading this on an iPad. In which case, you can’t be helped.

  Read these stories and bask in the warm, tingling sensation that comes from learning for the first time about a woman from history who gave zero fucks whatsoever. It’s a healthier pastime than drinking to oblivion, and just as satisfying as a cathartic scream – not to mention less alarming to your friends and neighbours.

  And finally, pick your favourite woman from this book and pass her story on. Tell it to your friends, shout it at your enemies as you froth at the mouth, write her name in skywriting, or have a bit of a Google to find out more about her life – there’s so much I missed.

  Enjoy.

  Wonderful ancient weirdos

  1

  Hatshepsut

  c. 1507–1458 BC

  Barely had civilisation begun when women first started to forget their place in it. It all started in the 15th century BC with those great lovers of cats and triangles, the ancient Egyptians, when Queen Hatshepsut looked upon her people and said, ‘Are you saying that just because I’m a woman I can’t be king of Egypt? Wow.’

  Hatshepsut had already been queen, the wife of the pharaoh Thutmose II, and then after his death (RIP) ruled Egypt as the regent for his infant son. But by 1473 BC, Hatshepsut had had enough of pretending some shitty baby would make a better pharaoh than she was, and so she took power for herself, ruling under her own name and exercising the full sovereignty of a strong, empowered pharaoh who didn’t need no man.

  Hatshepsut ruled in her own right from 1473 until 1458 BC. (Remember that before Jesus, time went backwards.) She wasn’t the first female ruler of Egypt, as a few had served as regents before her, but she was the longest-reigning and most important until Cleopatra’s 21-year reign beginning in 51 BC. She emphasised her kingly power by depicting herself in portraits with a beard and ma
le pharaoh regalia, just to drive the point home to any haters. Hatshepsut’s reign was a very successful one, marked by lucrative trade, successful military campaigns, the construction and restoration of grand temples, and all that other ancient Egyptian stuff.

  It’s not clear how Hatshepsut managed to convince everybody that it was chill for a girl to be pharaoh, but she certainly benefited from a close and loyal cohort of advisers. Foremost among them was Senenmut, her chief adviser, tutor to her only daughter, and possibly Hatshepsut’s lover. It can be hard to work out who did or didn’t bone thousands of years ago, or indeed last weekend, but for now let’s say it happened. This is my book, and everyone gets laid.

  After Hatshepsut died, Thutmose III, who was no longer a shitty baby but a shitty man, took over and ruled for 33 years. Towards the end of his life, he took it upon himself to try and wipe any memory of Hatshepsut from the historical record, destroying her statues and monuments and removing her name from the official list of kings they kept stuck to the fridge. Perhaps it was in order to make the succession from Thutmose I to II to III perfectly uncontested, or perhaps it was just because he was a bit of a dick.

  Hatshepsut’s most impressive construction project was also her final place of rest, the Dayr al-Bahri temple. You can still visit the monument today, and have a sit in the sun and think about the fact that Hatshepsut ruled Egypt a cool three and a half millennia ago, but, you know, the US just isn’t ready for a female leader. Maybe soon though! People need time to adjust to crazy new ideas.

  2

  Brigid of Kildare

  ?–524

  St Brigid of Kildare died around 524 AD. It’s not known when she was born, ’cause I guess being born wasn’t a big deal in those days. When you die you’re a whole person, but when you’re born you don’t even bother to remember it. You don’t even have any friends when you’re born, but when you die it’s a whole big thing.

  Anyway, whenever it was, Brigid was born in County Louth in Ireland. Her father was of noble stock, and her mother a slave – she and her mother were both sold to a druid. She was a virgin and an abbess, the most popular career for an ambitious lady of 6th-century Ireland. She founded the first nunnery in Ireland, but this isn’t the best thing about her.