Bonus Episode: Victims Are Often Blamed Instead of Protected

Why do societies so often hold victims responsible while overlooking those who caused the harm?

In this bonus episode, Dr. Allison Sucamele explores one of the most psychologically significant aspects of Ovid's Metamorphoses: after Medusa is assaulted by Poseidon, it is Medusa—not Poseidon—whose life is permanently altered.

Drawing on psychology, Dr. Sucamele examines victim blaming through Melvin Lerner's Just World Hypothesis, Judith Herman's work on trauma, and the concept of institutional betrayal. Together, these ideas help explain why people sometimes focus on the behavior of those who were harmed rather than the actions of those who caused the harm.

Using Medusa's story as a symbolic lens, this short bonus episode invites listeners to consider where accountability belongs, how trauma changes the way people are perceived, and what it means to build communities that protect rather than punish.

Books Mentioned

• Metamorphoses — Ovid
• Trauma and Recovery — Judith Herman
• The Belief in a Just World: A Fundamental Delusion — Melvin J. Lerner

Resources

• National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI): https://www.nami.org
• Psychology Today Therapist Directory: https://www.psychologytoday.com
• Open Path Psychotherapy Collective: https://openpathcollective.org
• Therapy for Black Girls: https://therapyforblackgirls.com
• Therapy for Black Men: https://therapyforblackmen.org

Disclaimer

The Lemon Tree Coaching Podcast is intended for educational and informational purposes only and should not be considered medical, psychological, or mental health advice. Listening to this podcast does not establish a therapeutic relationship. If you are experiencing significant emotional distress, please seek support from a licensed mental health professional or your healthcare provider.

Crisis Resources (U.S.)

If you or someone you know is in immediate danger or experiencing a mental health crisis, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, available 24 hours a day. If there is an immediate emergency, call 911 or go to your nearest emergency department.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome back to the Lemon Tree Coaching Podcast. I'm your host, Dr. Allison Sucamelli. And in yesterday's full episode, we talked about Medusa and the version of her story that is lesser known. And today, in this short bonus episode, we're going to pull on one thread of Medusa's story that has modern readers asking the obvious question as to why Medusa was the one punished after being assaulted rather than Poseidon. And we're going to apply the same question to modern life. And I'm not going to retell the lesser-known version of the story again, since we did that yesterday, but basically, an Ovid's metamorphoses, Medusa is assaulted by Poseidon inside Athena's temple. And rather than punishing Poseidon, Athena transforms Medusa into the figure we recognize today. Her beautiful hair is replaced with living serpents, her gaze becomes so powerful that anyone who looks directly at her turns to stone. And again, many modern readers question why is Poseidon not held accountable? And why is Medusa the one whose life is permanently altered? And this touches on something far larger than Greek mythology. It reflects a painful pattern that still exists today. Victims are often blamed instead of protected. And Ovid's version has become one of the most psychologically influential because it exposes a dynamic that feels tragically familiar. And psychologists refer to this as victim blaming or the tendency to hold someone who has been harmed partially or entirely responsible for what happened to them. And research by social psychologist Melvin Lerner, known as the Just World hypothesis, helps explain why this happens. Lerner proposed that many people want to believe the world is fundamentally fair. If good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, then life feels predictable and safe. But when something terrible happens to an innocent person, that belief is threatened. And instead of accepting that injustice sometimes exists, people often search for ways to restore their sense of order by thinking or saying things like, well, she must have done something. Why was she there? Why didn't she leave? Why didn't he fight back? And these questions don't necessarily arise from cruelty, often they arise from fear. And if we can convince ourselves that the victim somehow caused what happened, then we reassure ourselves that we could avoid the same fate. It's a psychological defense mechanism. And unfortunately, that defense comes at someone else's expense. And trauma researcher Dr. Judith Herman wrote that society often struggles to tolerate the reality of trauma because acknowledging it demands moral responsibility. And it's emotionally easier to question the victim than to confront the existence of violence, abuse, or injustice. Medusa becomes a powerful symbol of this process. And after the assault, her entire identity changes. People no longer see a woman who experienced profound harm. They see a monster. Her pain disappears behind her appearance. And psychologically, this transformation feels surprisingly modern. And sometimes our culture becomes so focused on how trauma changes someone that we stop asking what happened to them in the first place. We judge the anger, the withdrawal, the distrust. We judge the hypervigilance and the survival strategies, but we overlook the experiences that created them. And in that sense, Medusa snakes become symbolic. Perhaps they represent adaptations rather than monstrosity. And perhaps the frightening exterior is simply the visible expression of invisible suffering. And this doesn't mean harmful behavior should be excused. Trauma explains behavior, but it doesn't erase responsibility for how we treat others. And at the same time, understanding why someone changed is very different from blaming them for having been wounded. And there's another psychological concept worth considering here, and that is institutional betrayal. And researchers use this term to describe situations in which organizations, communities, or authorities fail to protect people who trust them, or worse, punish those who come forward. And we all can think of several examples of this. Whether it's a school, a workplace, a family, or another institution, the injury often becomes deeper when the very people expected to provide protection instead respond with disbelief, dismissal, or punishment. And for many readers, Athena's actions symbolize precisely that kind of betrayal. And again, mythology doesn't give us clinical case studies, it gives us symbols. And symbols often survive because they describe recurring patterns of human behavior. And perhaps that's why Medusa continues to fascinate us. Her story invites us to ask difficult questions like: when someone has been harmed, where does our attention go first? Do we instinctively investigate the perpetrator? Or do we begin evaluating the victim? Do we ask what happened to them? Or do we ask what's wrong with them? Those are very different questions. And perhaps that's one of Medusa's enduring lessons. Justice begins where accountability is placed in the right direction. When we stop asking why victims weren't different and start asking why harm occurred in the first place, we move one step closer to creating communities that protect rather than punish. And healing begins not when suffering is explained away, and when we blame those who have been harmed instead of confronting those who caused the harm, we don't just rewrite one person's story, we reinforce a pattern that echoes across generations. And whether Medusa was ever truly a monster is a question mythology leaves open, but psychologically her story invites us to examine where we place responsibility, whose voices we believe, and what truths we still struggle to face. Okay, so there you have it. If you want to dig deeper into this topic or into the symbolism of Ovid's Medusa, listen to yesterday's full episode if you missed it. And until next time, this is Dr. Allison Sukamelli. Keep following the road inward, and I'll see you next week.