i am sassa

Joan of Arc is one of the most enduring symbols of feminine badassery of all time, and rightfully so. Though pop culture has often shown her through a misogynistic lens, her scroll of mind-blowingly badass deeds is hard to argue with.

Joan of Arc was born in France, well into the thick if the Hundred Years War. The men in charge at the time were doing a real bang-up job. King Charles VI’s “bouts of insanity” and the Jerry Springer-esque behavior of his family were not proving to be effective ways to keep England out of their business. England wanted a bigger slice of France, so the dudes in charge over there did what anyone does when they want something…they constantly set it on fire. This was right after the Black Death, mind you. I guess they didn’t want to spoil themselves by getting too comfortable.

The freshly crowned Henry V of England saw all this chaos as his chance to gain control of France, but then OOPS he and the insane King of France both died, leaving a baby in charge. Though the baby’s royal blood was in question due to the aforementioned family scandal, I think they should have just left it in charge. No one else was okay with this, and ALLL the poop hit the fan. Enter Joan of Arc.

Joan had been raised in one of the unfortunate villages that got scorched from time to time by England. She could not read or write, but was on her way to being one hell of a seamstress when she claimed that she started hearing messages from God. He told her to stay chaste, for she was to be the virgin who would fix France that the whole town had been buzzing about. So her first act of badassery was to refuse the marriage her dad had all lined up for her. She then journeyed to see Charles VII (this is getting ridiculous) to let him know that she was gonna kick all the necessary ass to make sure he got to be King of France. God said. And somehow, this seventeen year old peasant who could not read or write, actually convinced the crumbling leadership of France to fit her with armor and allow her to not only participate in, but strategize the ensuing fight. Which, long story short, she won, even though she got blasted through with more than one arrow, as well as a stone from a canon.

After the win, France and England enjoyed a very short truce before they got bored. Joan returned to the fight, and was pulled off her horse, captured, and stuffed away in a castle. Probably assuming herself to be immortal from all her prior entanglements with arrows and canons, she just went ahead and jumped out of the tower. Sadly, she was caught, and ultimately went to trial where everyone pretended to be all formal and official about everything while they charged her with bullcrap like cross-dressing in armor. Or cross-dressing while imprisoned, even though she wore men’s clothing to protect her from being easily raped by the guards. Yikes. She also had short hair, which naturally should lead to imprisonment and trial. Though she risked her life to lead Charles VII to the throne, he kept oddly silent during all this trial business.

Eventually these heinous crimes that Joan only committed to save France’s ungrateful ass would cause her to be publicly executed. She was tied to a stake and burned alive. For having short hair and wearing men’s clothing. For real. Fearing that just one burning might not be enough, England’s finest raked her up and burnt her twice more, and then threw the ashes in the river so that no one could do anything with them that might honor her, God forbid. Charles VII continued to enjoy his throne and probably slept just fine at night.

In a 1456 re-trial that was just FAR TOO LATE, Joan of Arc’s innocence was declared. In 1920, the Roman Catholic Church canonized her as a saint. I sincerely hope she haunted the hell out of every last one of these turds.

Thank you, Joan of Arc.