So, I wrote my doctoral dissertation on monsters. The word comes from monstrum, meaning a divine omen or wonder. It's the same root that gives us demonstrate, meaning to point out, prove, establish. Like to establish that a political administration is incompetent.

Of course, now it also means to participate in a demonstration, for social justice, just for instance. Monster itself goes all the way back to monere, meaning to warn, advise, teach. So a monster is someone or something that warns us, teaches us.

If we go all the way back to Indo-European, we can connect it to a root meaning to think. A monster is someone or something that makes us think, maybe because it shows us the truth. Female monsters, in particular, are avengers, bearers of justice.

To call a woman a monster means that you are afraid of what she stands for, what she has to say. You are afraid that she might be Medusa, petrifying. That she might reduce you to stony silence. The myth tells us that Medusa was defeated by Perseus, who gave her head to Athena.

Athena placed that fearful countenance on her shield. But the name Medusa comes from an ancient Greek word meaning to protect. Gorgon heads were popular on shields and armor just in general, presumably because they protected the wearer.

The most famous Gorgon head was on the breastplate of the statue of Athena in the Parthenon. I suspect the story of Perseus rose to describe a preexisting iconography in which the two faces were counterparts of one another, the dark and bright side of one goddess.

So anyway, when you call a woman a monster, it's probably because she's warning, advising, protecting. Standing up to you. Telling the truth. And because you're frightened of her. As maybe you should be . . .