006 Morgan Le Fay: The Power That Wouldn’t Kneel

A queen of magic, a healer, a seductress, a villain.

Morgan Le Fay has been called many things. But who was she, really?

A powerful enchantress from Arthurian legend, Morgan’s role shifts depending on who is telling the story.

In some versions, she is the wicked sorceress scheming against King Arthur, his treacherous half-sister wielding magic against Camelot. In others, she is the wise woman of Avalon, guiding Arthur’s fate from the shadows.

So, was she a villain? Or was she simply another woman too powerful to be controlled?

Before she was twisted into a villain, Morgan Le Fay was something far more powerful.

Her name, Le Fay (meaning “the fairy”), ties her to an older world— a world where women with magic weren’t feared but revered. She wasn’t just a sorceress; she was a priestess of Avalon, a guardian of sacred knowledge, and a woman who understood the forces that shaped kings and kingdoms.

But history has a way of rewriting women like her.

As Christianity took hold and the old ways were cast aside, women who held power in their own right became threats instead of figures of wisdom.

Once a healer, an advisor, and a force of fate, she was instead made into a woman whose knowledge, independence, and refusal to bow made her an enemy of Camelot.

A woman with power is only tolerated if she uses it to serve others.

Morgan didn’t.

She didn’t exist to be a kingmaker or a loyal subject. She didn’t soften herself to make men comfortable. She wielded her magic for herself and for the world that came before Arthur. She honored the old ways.

And that made her dangerous.

In early legends, Morgan was not evil, she was simply powerful. She was a healer, a protector of Avalon, and a wielder of deep magic. She was respected, revered, and like many powerful women, feared.

But as Arthurian myths evolved, particularly under medieval Christian influence, Morgan’s power became something dangerous.

The wise woman became the wicked sorceress.

The healer became a seductress.

Her independence, knowledge, and magic were rewritten as threats.

And that wasn’t by accident.

Morgan’s fall from grace wasn’t about what she did. It was about what she represented—a woman who refused to conform, who claimed magic as her own, and who wielded power without a king or husband to justify it.

Before Christianity spread across Europe, many cultures were earth-centered, pagan, and matriarchal. The priestess, the healer, the wise women were roles of respect, not suspicion.

The independent, mystical woman had no place in a system that demanded male dominance.

The priestess became a witch.

The healer became a heretic.

The wise woman became a woman to be feared.

Like Lilith, Circe, and Hecate before her, Morgan’s crime was owning her power. She wielded magic without permission. She healed without being a wife or mother. She took lovers as she pleased, without seeking approval. And like so many others, she was rewritten as a villain.

Her legend was altered, her power turned into a cautionary tale.

A woman refused to conform, who dares to claim autonomy, isn’t just a threat, she is evil.

Women like Morgan were vilified to ensure no others followed in their footsteps.

Betrayer or Protector?

Morgan’s power was undeniable, but its meaning was a matter of perspective. To some, she was a sorceress bringing Arthur’s downfall. To others, she was one who ensured his survival, carrying him to Avalon so he could return when Britain needed him most.

This contradiction—was she a villain or a healer?—mirrors the broader fear of female power. Women are either nurturers or destroyers, never both.

But Morgan was both.

She embodied feminine duality—creation and destruction, healer and warrior, seductress and sage. Holding this duality was unacceptable.

The priestesses of old were forced into silence. Women’s power became a weapon used against them. To be independent was to be dangerous. To be dangerous was to be destroyed.

Her legend was rewritten to make power in a woman’s hands was seen unnatural. She became the ultimate warning—a woman who seeks too much, knows too much, and refuses to submit will only bring destruction.

(We’ve heard this story before.)

The Legacy of Morgan Le Fay

Morgan Le Fay teaches us that power, especially in the hands of women, will always be seen as dangerous.

That doesn’t mean we should give it up.

Her story reminds us that magic, wisdom, and autonomy are strengths worth embracing, even when the world tries to turn them into something dark.

(Because being underestimated is its own kind of power.)

Morgan Le Fay a villain?

Or was she simply a woman who refused to kneel?

Always,
Your Trusted Friend 🖤

Bradley, Marion Zimmer. The Mists of Avalon. Del Rey, 1983.

Green, Miranda J. The Gods of the Celts. Sutton Publishing, 1997.

Hines, Jessica. “The Literary History of Morgan le Fay.” Ploughshares at Emerson College, Ploughshares, 31 October 2022, https://pshares.org/blog/the-literary-history-of-morgan-le-fay/. Accessed 21 February 2025.