To whomever may read this letter,
“Serestia! Come help!” that seems to be the endless call for me. I am Serestia. I live here in Athens. It always seems to me that whenever I try to think I must work.
Throughout the day my three brothers go off to school, they all want to someday be in the army. While they go off to learn to read and write I must sadly stay home to work.
At home Mother is in charge. To begin we eat breakfast, mother never seems to eat much. When I ask her she said she must watch her figure, and so must I. How can that be right? We females must starve ourselves thin while the men can go out and party and eat as much as they want.
I know I am not to question the acts of men but it just doesn’t seem fair to me. My brothers go off to school while I must stay home until I’m married and even in that I have no choice.
One thing I don’t understand is that women are not equal to men here but we still worship female goddesses. Hera, Athena. What is up with that?
Enough of my complaints. Throughout the day I must work hard to learn how to be a good housewife. I must try even harder now, as my older sister is getting married soon, she’s fifteen. Every day my mother tells me that soon it will be my turn to get married. I’m not sure how I feel about this. A little scared I think.
Right now I am learning to weave, which is much harder than it looks. No matter how hard I try I still cannot get a picture to take shape. To add to that, my family is not wealthy and because my brothers are out most of the day, I must go and work in the fields.
I do have a little secret about this though. Every night I secretly sneak down to the front of the house. (That’s where the men are. Women must work and sleep at the back of the house so they are not seen. That is where I’m writing this letter.) When I get to my brother’s room I look at his wax tablet which he has taken to school with him that day and learn what has been written. It is a very good system for my brother is rather lazy and will never erase his tablet unless he has to. It is through this system that I have learned to read and write.
All this I have told you, and yet nothing of my father. My father is a merchant. He spends a lot of the day out at The Stoa of Attalos. You may wonder why I don’t give more details on The Stoa of Attalos but the truth is I have never been there. Here in Greece, it is forbidden for a woman to go to The Stoa of Attalos. My brothers have been there many times, it gets rather tiring, after a while, to listen to them go on and on about it. I think that they do it just to annoy me.
Sometimes when I am in a dark mood I dream of dressing up as a man to see the Stoa. But it is just foolishness.
Apparently in the Stoa of Attalos there is a man. According to my father he is very peculiar, I often hear him complain to Mother about him at dinner. His name, I believe, is Socrates. I have asked my brothers about him, and according to them, he stands in the market place asking questions to people like “Why do you wear a chiton?” and “What is virtue?” Apparently, he is one of those philosophers. I don’t much care for philosophers they just sit around and think all day, while us ordinary folk have to work.
Speaking of just sitting around, did you know that the only thing worse than working is working while others are playing! Every day I work hard to learn the proper skills to be a housewife. In the afternoon I sit at my loom and try to weave. Yet, all my brothers do is pretend to be athletes at the Olympics.
The Olympics. The Olympics are so widely talked about and praised. The athletes, the skill! Unfortunately all I know of the Olympics is what my brothers have told me (and they have been known to exaggerate) because, once again, women are not allowed at the Olympics.
Men get so much freedom. With all of the tasks women have to do, just trying to keep our heads above the water, even my father seems to have the time to go to the Bouleuterion.
The Bouleuterion is the building in Greece where the council debate is held. The council is a group of people who help to run Athens democracy. My father has been there twice to offer his suggestions.
In case you don’t know what democracy is, it’s our form of government. Democracy is where the people vote on how to rule Athens. There are a lot of votes. My father, who is a citizen, has been to many of them. The great thinker who started all this was Perciles. My father often praises him.
My father will come home soon and I will have to stop writing, but he’s going to the Temple of Hephaesteion to pray. There’s some ceremony today. ( Yet again, women aren’t invited.)
Hephaesteion is one of our gods. We believe that he is the god of invention and crafts. My father goes there daily to thank him for our trade.
Oh how my brothers annoy me! Sorry, I just heard them talking. They are getting ready to go out tonight to the Literature Festival in The Odeion of Agrippa.
The Odeion of Agrippa is a massive concert hall. Apparently it can seat 1000 people. For obvious reasons I’m not going.
I’m not angry at my brothers for going to the festival, oh no. I’m angry at them because as they were getting ready I heard them talking and agreeing and one of them said:
“Teaching women to read and write? How horrible.” Then the others agreed. Oh how nasty they are!
But I’ve shown them I do know how to read and write. But my literacy is almost a curse for I must not tell anyone or I could get in the most trouble ever.
Oh! My father is back and I must now go back to my life. It has been a pleasure writing to you and I hope that we may someday meet.
Regards, Serestia
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