Okay, But, What If Flash Calls Peter "Penis" Because (he's Raised By Parents Who Calls It Vile To Curse)

Take the Blame Off of My Shoulders

Reclaiming Eve and Battling Misogyny

The story of Eve is common knowledge. She originated from a piece of a man to serve as a helper, then became the ultimate cause of humanity’s downfall. Many believe Eve is the villain—she acted as the temptress, fell victim to deception first, and committed the first sin. Because of her incompetence, naivety, and gullibility, people interpret the story of Adam and Eve as the primary source of gender roles, stereotypes, and even gender wars—especially misogyny. This essay re-examines Eve’s story through a feminist lens, challenging the narrative that she is solely responsible for humanity’s fall and exploring how this interpretation has shaped gender roles and misogyny.

To analyze her story, society must examine the root of these beliefs. How did humanity develop the idea that women should submit to men because God created them as subordinates? First, two accounts of Adam and Eve’s creation exist. In Genesis 1:27, the passage states: “So God created mankind in His image, in the image of God he created them; male and female, he created them. God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’” The second account, found in Genesis 2, provides a more detailed version of humanity’s creation. Genesis 2:18 recounts, “the Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.’”

Both narratives portray God as creating Eve as Adam’s equal and companion. However, over the years, people have interpreted Genesis 2:18 to mean that God created Eve as a mere helper—a “little woman,” so to speak. However, a closer look at the Hebrew text offers a different perspective. The word “helper” translates from the Hebrew word “ezer” (pronounced ay-zer). Ezer means “to assist” or “to help” without implying a hierarchy between the helper and the helped. Biblical texts often associate ezer with God assisting His people. By using this word to describe Eve, God Himself elevated her role rather than diminished it.

Ezer frequently appears alongside “kenegado”—ezer kenegado—which means “a helper suitable for him.” This phrase suggests that God designed Eve as Adam’s equal partner, not his subordinate. Nowhere in the text does God specify what kind of aid Eve was meant to provide. Genesis 2:18 states that God created Eve to alleviate Adam’s loneliness and to rule alongside him. This interpretation implies that women were created as companions to men, without suggestions of subordination.

Some argue that Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib symbolizes interdependence rather than hierarchy, implying that Adam and Eve were meant to share an equal partnership rather than a master-servant relationship. Furthermore, both were created in God’s likeness (Genesis 1:27). If God had established a hierarchy between them from the start, this structure would contradict their shared divine image and undermine the idea of their equality.

Furthermore, some interpretations of the creation story emphasize the order of creation, with Eve coming second after Adam. This sequence has been used to suggest a hierarchical structure, where Adam is the primary creation and Eve is secondary, positioned as subordinate. However, the mere fact that Eve was created second does not inherently imply that she was inferior to Adam. In other parts of the Bible, there is no explicit hierarchy between humans and animals based on the order of creation, and the order itself should not be used to justify gender inequality. 

If Eve had been intended as inferior, the narrative would contradict the idea that both were created in God's image, as outlined in Genesis 1:27, which states that both male and female were created equally in God's likeness. The idea of Eve's creation as a complementary partner to Adam challenges the assumption that her creation from Adam’s rib is a sign of subordination. The act of Eve being made from Adam’s rib can be seen not as a symbol of her secondary status, but rather of the intimate connection between them, pointing to interdependence rather than dominance.

This misunderstanding of Eve’s role feeds directly into the narrative of the Fall. Traditionally, Eve is blamed for the first sin, depicted as the one who succumbs to temptation and leads Adam astray. However, Genesis 3:6 contains a critical detail: Adam was present during the entire interaction between Eve and the serpent. While Eve may have taken the first bite, Adam’s passive presence and subsequent participation are equally significant. 

His failure to intervene or resist complicates the popular narrative, yet Eve is the one to be held overwhelmingly responsible. By placing the blame on her alone, society perpetuates a harmful stereotype that women are inherently weak, gullible, and morally inferior to men. This narrative has historically justified patriarchal structures that place women under male authority, framing them as incapable of making rational decisions on their own. Men, in contrast, are depicted as passive victims of female influence, absolving them of responsibility for their actions.

By portraying Eve as the primary culprit in humanity’s downfall, women have been framed as weak, gullible, and prone to sin. The spread of this belief reinforced the notion that women needed men—specifically, male authority—to be guided and to control them lest they commit sin or crime. This entire belief fortifies patriarchal structures; most of society, especially in previous eras, establishes male dominance, habitually limiting women’s autonomy, such as removing women’s rights, etc.

The archetype of Eve as the seductive temptress has been a persistent and damaging cultural trope. This portrayal of women as inherently deceitful or dangerous has had profound social implications. The “Eve as temptress” narrative served as the basis for centuries of legal, religious, and social policies that restricted women’s rights and independence. Women were often excluded from intellectual, political, and devout spheres, and viewed as a threat to male authority. 

The idea that women’s emotional and moral nature was inherently flawed was used to justify their exclusion from leadership roles in society, education, and the church. This view also fed into the stereotype that women are driven by irrational impulses rather than reason, which continues to affect the way women are perceived in professional and personal contexts.

Furthermore, the notion of Eve as a femme fatale has persisted throughout history in the form of notorious women who were blamed for men’s downfalls. Figures like Cleopatra, Anne Boleyn, and Mata Hari were often depicted in historical narratives as manipulative and dangerous, echoing the same tropes found in the story of Eve. 

In modern times, this archetype still influences societal views of women, particularly in the context of victim-blaming. In cases of sexual harassment and assault, women are often held responsible for men’s transgressions, just as Eve was blamed for Adam’s fall. This ongoing pattern reflects how deeply ingrained the “Eve as temptress” narrative is in our collective consciousness.

The Fall itself marks a pivotal moment in the relationship between Adam and Eve. After the transgression, Adam names Eve, a significant act of control that reflects the shift in power dynamics. Before the Fall, Adam and Eve share a relationship of equality, but after the Fall, Adam exercises dominion over Eve by naming her, thus asserting male authority in a manner that establishes a new, hierarchical structure. 

God’s punishment of Eve, which includes pain in childbirth and subjugation to her husband, has been interpreted as the establishment of male dominance. This divine pronouncement became the basis for centuries of patriarchal systems, with women positioned as subservient to men, both in marriage and in society. The punishment also reflects the introduction of suffering and inequality into the human experience, as the once-egalitarian relationship between man and woman is fractured by the consequences of the Fall.

Feminist theologians have long argued that the traditional reading of Eve’s actions has been misinterpreted. Rather than seeing her desire for knowledge as sinful, feminist scholars emphasize that Eve’s quest for wisdom is a courageous and necessary part of the human experience. In Gnostic texts, Eve is portrayed as the first to gain knowledge, and her actions are celebrated as a step toward enlightenment. In texts such as the Apocryphon of John and the Gospel of Eve, Eve's actions in the Garden are not seen as a fall from grace but as a deliberate quest for knowledge. 

The Gnostics viewed Eve as the one who, in seeking the forbidden knowledge, transcended the limitations imposed by the material world and the patriarchal structures. She is the first to awaken to the truth of her divine nature, acting as a bringer of enlightenment for humanity. In these texts, her decision to partake of the fruit is not viewed as an act of rebellion but as an important step toward spiritual awakening, illustrating the Gnostic ideal that knowledge, or gnosis, is the path to salvation. 

This interpretation presents Eve not as the villain of the Genesis story, but as a courageous figure whose actions challenge the conventional narratives of sin and subjugation, offering an empowering alternative view of her role in the creation myth. This perspective in Gnostic thought helps to reshape Eve's image, aligning with feminist reinterpretations of her story as one of agency, wisdom, and a pursuit of self-awareness that goes against the patriarchal readings.

The cultural legacy of Eve’s story has had a profound impact not only on religious doctrine but also on social and legal structures. By framing women as the originators of sin, the Genesis account justified the subordination of women in nearly every aspect of society. Women were denied access to education, leadership roles, and even basic legal rights, as they were seen as inherently flawed and incapable of moral decision-making. 

The legacy of Eve’s story, therefore, extends far beyond theology, shaping laws and societal norms that have marginalized women for centuries. In modern times, these lingering beliefs continue to affect women’s opportunities, particularly in political, academic, and corporate arenas. Women who express ambition, assertiveness, or independence are still often viewed with suspicion as if they are somehow transgressing traditional gender roles.

Reinterpreting Eve’s story offers a vision of gender relations that is more inclusive and equitable. By seeing Eve not as a passive victim of temptation but as a proactive agent in pursuit of knowledge, we can shift the focus from blame to empowerment. This reinterpretation invites a more balanced understanding of gender, where both men and women are equally capable of moral agency, intellectual pursuit, and leadership. Furthermore, a more nuanced understanding of Eve’s story can help dismantle the stereotypes that have long confined women to subordinate roles, creating space for women to participate fully in all aspects of society without fear of judgment or exclusion.

In conclusion, the traditional narrative of Eve as the origin of sin has deeply influenced the way women have been viewed and treated throughout history. By reevaluating Eve’s role through a feminist lens, we can see her not as the cause of humanity’s downfall but as a symbol of wisdom, agency, and the pursuit of knowledge. Reclaiming Eve’s story offers a powerful challenge to the patriarchal systems that have long restricted women’s rights and opportunities. By embracing a more inclusive and egalitarian interpretation of the Genesis account, we can create a future where both men and women are seen as equals, free from the constraints of harmful gender stereotypes, and able to participate fully in the moral, intellectual, and spiritual life of society.

Has anyone ever thought that steven Universe's "It's over, isn't it?" has some lines that can be applied to Severus Snape?

I need a Graydon scene pack

Thank you to everyone who got me to 1000 likes!

something silly

fun fact: i was super underleveled for this boss fight, i could not keep kel alive lmao

reference ⬇️

I have never animated anything this complicated ever! I wanted Flash to look bigger but apparently that didn’t happen. XD

I love Peter Parker, I love Flash Thompson and I love SpiderFlash or whatever this is called (what is it called?). Though it’s sad it doesn’t seem very popular.

Anyway, be prepared! I’m gonna go draw more of this pairing!

Trust me. If I can art and write masterpieces, Dron would have so much more content than there is.

It’s actually your comment that got me to read it LOL. I want to edit it so badly now

Someone commented on a fic of mine which I honestly thought was the worst one in my series, so I decided to read it. Wow, I feel like I worded some things poorly. Get what people mean by “reading your own things is awesome” now, though. It’s like the author read your mind

What are the odds of one sibling being really pale and the other sibling having a darker complexion?? Because Human!Twilight and Human!Shining Armor being brown and white respectively...IDK actually. Like, the art for when they make them have IRL skin tones. Then again, Twilight Velvet is grey.

Contradictions

I'm the very embodiment of contradictions. The physical manifestation of duality molded into a body. I am the adjective of two extremes. To describe me is to confuse oneself, to describe me is to describe everything and nothing. I feel inferiority just as I feel superiority. I'm the most evil nice person to exist for there are equal amounts of nicety than there is evil in me. I am sinful saint. I utter the words of a god that my heart oozes no faith for, yet any arguments of my god's existence fills me with a rage like a devout.

I grieve no one and everyone. My heart beats no care or love for any entity be it my family or my friends or a lover that never will exist for my heart will hold nothing but apathy. Yet. My words and my actions are devotions of a semblance of a love that I do not feel. My thoughts are dedicated for them as if I am driven by love—yet my heart beats nothing but pumped blood.

I understand myself very well, the only person to ever understand me. Though I confuse myself all the time. I am so inexplicable that I am only explained by my name. My name is all the explanations one needs, every nuances of my being—blurred and confusing it may be for anyone but me. They explain me by uttering my name, chalk it up to [—] being [—] as if that's the only explanation for my behavior and my words and my expressions.

People talk about me as if they can understand me, as if their words are true. It is not. Even those that hold the title of my closest friend always gets it wrong. They say my name as if it explains it all despite them not knowing what it is that's actually being explained by the simple whisper of my name.

What's in a name, I wonder?

Because it definitely is not understanding.