Women's strong qualities have become despised because of their

Hear the bold words of William Moulton Marston, creator of Wonder Woman, who declared: “Women’s strong qualities have become despised because of their weakness. The obvious remedy is to create a feminine character with all the strength of Superman plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman.” These words, spoken in the dawn of the twentieth century, rise like a trumpet call against ages of silence, proclaiming that strength and beauty are not opposites, but companions. They remind us that woman, too often confined by false weakness, carries within her the power to inspire, to defend, and to lead.

Marston perceived a paradox: society exalted men’s strength and dismissed women’s, even though the virtues of women’s strong qualities—compassion, intuition, resilience—were as vital as any muscle of man. Too often, women were told their gentleness was frailty, their tenderness a burden, their beauty a distraction. Thus what was sacred became despised, not because it lacked power, but because the world refused to recognize it. In answer to this injustice, Marston envisioned a figure who would unite both realms: the unyielding might of a hero and the luminous grace of womanhood.

And so he created Wonder Woman, not as a mere echo of Superman, but as his equal and counterbalance. She bore the strength of Superman, but clothed in it were the virtues the world once mocked: mercy, love, and allure. Her character proclaimed that the heroic is not diminished by beauty, nor is gentleness in conflict with power. Instead, the truest greatness comes when strength and allure, might and grace, dwell together in harmony.

History bears witness to women who embodied this truth long before Marston gave it form in myth. Consider Joan of Arc, the maiden of France. To her people, she was no fragile child, but a leader clad in armor, bearing courage that rallied armies. Yet she did not forsake her tenderness, nor deny her devotion to God. She united the ferocity of a warrior with the purity of a young woman’s faith. Her story reveals what Marston declared—that the world trembles when a woman is both powerful and radiant, both lion-hearted and luminous.

The meaning of Marston’s words stretches beyond fiction: it is a call to see women not in fragments, but in fullness. Too long has the world forced them to choose—strength or beauty, power or gentleness, intellect or emotion. But the truth is this: the feminine contains all, and to embrace all is not contradiction but completeness. Wonder Woman was not merely a character, but a vision of what women already were, and what the world needed to recognize.

The lesson for us is clear: do not despise what appears tender, nor dismiss what appears radiant. Recognize that strength wears many faces, and that beauty need not be shallow nor powerless. To uplift women in their wholeness is to uplift humanity itself, for society is impoverished when it denies half its people the right to embody both might and allure.

Practical actions lie before us: honor women not for fragments of what they are, but for the totality. Encourage girls not only to be strong, but to see no shame in their beauty. Celebrate women not only when they lead as warriors, but also when they guide with compassion. And for men, learn this truth as well—that your strength too is deeper when joined with tenderness, and your power greater when balanced with grace.

Thus, Marston’s vision becomes not merely the birth of a comic heroine, but a teaching for the ages. Strength and allure are not rivals, but allies. And when they dwell together in one soul, whether man or woman, they create a power that is not only mighty, but truly divine. Let us then walk in this wisdom: to honor the wholeness of woman, and in doing so, discover a higher wholeness in ourselves.