Medea is not a mythic exception for me; she is a shared condition. In Colchis, she was a healer and a priestess, a woman who crossed borders for love and became an outsider, humiliated yet unbroken. Her knowledge — botanical, intuitive, forbidden — was a tool for survival.

I carry Medea as a cultural and genetic code. Her legacy travels with me through language, memory, and identity, sustaining me in displacement and shaping my courage. To ask what Medea would prepare after betrayal is to ask how knowledge becomes a form of resistance, how care can transform into power.

In this work, deep purple and ink-dark tones reference tinctures, alchemy, and pharmakon — the substance that heals and harms. Medea is not singular; she is plural. She is every woman who inherits knowledge, crosses borders, endures humiliation, and refuses erasure. We all are Medeas.