I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of sexuality as power – how women can use it to resist societal judgment -and I wanted to explore it through Maya Angelou’s 1978 poetry collection And Still I Rise and Prosper Mérimée’s 1845 novella Carmen. Even though these works are separated by more than a century, both grapple with the taboo idea of women asserting influence through their sexuality, though they do so in very different ways.

Angelou broadens the idea of resistance to include the perspective of a woman of color. And Still I Rise isn’t just about standing up to patriarchal norms, it’s about challenging generations of oppression. The poem opens with “You may write me down in history / With your bitter, twisted lies,” showcasing two key techniques: direct address, which confronts societal standards head-on, and rhetorical questions like “Does my sassiness upset you?” and “Does my sexiness upset you?” These refrains highlight the discomfort society feels toward a confident woman. The poem’s voice is provocative, much like the women it celebrates.

Angelou’s language is vivid and emotive, meant to draw empathy. Phrases like “bitter, twisted lies” evoke the cruelty of racist narratives, while “You may kill me with your hatefulness, / But still, like air, I’ll rise” emphasizes perseverance and resilience. Sexuality is explicitly tied to empowerment in lines such as “Does it come as a surprise / That I dance like I’ve got diamonds / At the meeting of my thighs?” Here, Angelou’s awareness of her own body becomes a source of presence, power, and confidence.

Her other poems, like Phenomenal Woman and Our Grandmothers, further explore sexuality as empowerment. In Phenomenal Woman, the speaker’s allure comes not from conventional beauty but from the way she carries herself, her stride, her arms, her lips. In Our Grandmothers, Angelou connects sexuality to resilience, acknowledging the historical exploitation of women of color while celebrating their strength and dignity. Across these works, Angelou transforms sexuality from a source of shame or control into a tool of self-definition and liberation.

Turning to Mérimée’s Carmen, the novella explores sexual power in a different era and context. Carmen’s story is told from Don José’s perspective, which immediately frames her through the lens of societal judgment. Initially, he admits, “At first I didn’t like her looks,” but Carmen’s charisma and pursuit soon captivate him. The acacia flower she gives him repeatedly symbolizes his infatuation, her ability to command attention and unsettle him.

Carmen’s confidence and sexuality are reinforced through her dialogue, clothing, and body language. She teases and challenges men, using flirty nicknames, short skirts, red shoes, and a pulled-back mantilla to defy societal norms. Don José notes that anyone in his country would “have crossed himself” at such displays, underscoring just how unconventional and powerful her behavior is. She wields her sexuality deliberately, upsetting traditional hierarchies and asserting agency in a male-dominated world.

Mérimée also shows the consequences of this power. Don José becomes obsessed, abandoning duty, committing murder, and ultimately destroying his own life. Carmen’s sexuality destabilizes him and society’s expectations, revealing both the empowerment of women who embrace their freedom and the threats it poses to those invested in maintaining patriarchal control.

Both And Still I Rise and Carmen demonstrate that women can assert power through sexuality, even under societal and cultural pressures. Angelou presents this power as resilient and triumphant, while Mérimée’s Carmen embodies both liberation and danger—her defiance ultimately leading to her death. Yet in both cases, sexuality is portrayed as a form of resistance, a tool for women to claim agency in a world determined to limit them.