Happy Purim
- Mia Sivan
- Mar 14
- 3 min read
This is just a little note to share some thoughts about Purim and feminism.
Purim is often called the Jewish Halloween. The Esther Megillah, or the Book of Esther, tells its origin story. It’s a short book, and much of it revolves around the bedroom—specifically, the Persian emperor's bedroom.
The story begins with Ahasuerus, the emperor of Persia, who decides to summon his beautiful wife Vashti to dance scantily dressed in front of his guests. She refuses and loses her queenly status. The king’s advisors warn him that Vashti’s behavior could set a dangerous precedent, encouraging wives across the empire to become disobedient. In response, the king decreed that "all men shall be sovereign in their households."
Hadassah, later known as Esther (she changes her name to conceal her Jewish identity), is a young Jewish girl chosen to enter the palace. She has no control over her fate: “Every beautiful young virgin” is gathered (2:3) and “taken” to the king’s harem. Obedience is her only option, and the king 'samples' each girl.
Esther must have done something very right in the bedroom, as the king chooses her to be his queen.
Three years later, her uncle Mordechai learns of a decree ordering the destruction of the Jews, orchestrated by Haman, the king’s prime minister. He urges his niece Esther to intercede, but she is afraid. The law states that approaching the king without summons is punishable by death, and she hasn’t been called to his chambers in a month. Esther is scared for her life.
Even so, she finds her courage and declares: “And in this way I will go to the king, contrary to law, and if I perish, I perish” (4:16b).
To borrow from Ned Stark (Game of Thrones): "The only time a woman can be brave is when she is afraid."
Though Mordechai advises her to plead directly with the king, Esther crafts her own plan. By now, she knows how the court operates. Simply asking the king to rescind his decree won't work—he needs an avenue to save face and a scapegoat to bear the blame.
She first invites King Ahasuerus and Haman to a banquet, delaying her true request. Despite the king’s prompt to reveal her wish, Esther withholds her petition. This delay is not hesitation but a deliberate tactic, allowing her to build suspense and ensure the king's full attention and favor. Now he is intrigued.
During the second banquet, Esther skillfully appeals to the king’s ego, using deferential language and withholding critical information (that she herself is Jewish) to avoid putting him on the defensive. She carefully sets the stage, ensuring that when she finally reveals Haman’s plot, the king’s anger is fully directed at his prime minister.
As an author, I find Esther much more interesting than Vashti. She undergoes significant growth: from a young passive girl, whose defining character is her beauty and docility, to a woman who is brave and strategic.
At the climax of Esther’s appeal, Haman is unmasked and overcome with fear—not only of the king but also, notably, "before the queen" (7:6). The once-arrogant Haman, who demanded Mordecai bow before him, now prostrates himself before Esther, pleading for his life. Esther does not show mercy to her defeated enemy. Haman's actions have forfeited any claim to pity. Sparing him would risk future plots and endanger her people once again.
Two female protagonists drive the story: One of them says ‘no’. Late readers such as Harriet Beecher Stowe celebrated Vashti as a feminist icon. The other woman, Esther, uses her beauty and prowess in bed to achieve her goals.
Is Esther a feminist? What do you think?
In preparing this blog I used the following resources:
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