Episode 29: Monsters and morals

Episode
Written By Stephanie Summar

Vengeance, virtue, and emotional labour



A long-haired woman in a gauzy dress is backlit by car headlights. It's dark, and we can only see her creepy silhouette.

What do a trickster forest goblin, a horse-faced seductress, a desert phantom, and a deer-footed avenger have in common? They’re not just the stuff of nightmares – they’re symbols of women as society’s moral guardians.

Tonight, Paranormal Pajama Party introduces you to the shishiga from Slavic folklore, Central and South America’s siguanaba, Umm al-Duwais of Emirati myth, and the Deer Woman from many Native American traditions. These female monsters have a shared duty: They warn, protect, and punish, embodying the moral and cultural anxieties of their times.

Women have long been cast as society’s moral guardians – expected to nurture, guide, and uphold the social fabric. Whether as “angels in the home”, temperance advocates, or today's workplace peacemakers, this expectation persists overtly and more subtly. But when we step into this role, we’re paradoxically demonised or ridiculed, our efforts dismissed or maligned, or, in the worst cases, making us targets of lethal violence.

 

  • Steph: Before we begin, a quick content warning: Paranormal Pajama Party is a podcast about scary stories and legends, but there’s nothing scarier than the patriarchy.

    When discussing tales in which women are often the villains, we’ll have to unpack some stories in which women are the victims.

    This episode contains the usual amount of cursing, as well as mentions of violence against women, alcoholism, and death. Please listen with care.

    Tonight, I bring you a message from the Deer Woman, a gorgeous protector of women who happens to have feet like a deer. She’d like you to be a deer and hoof it to your favourite podcast platform to give Paranormal Pajama Party a five-star rating or review. We’d love it if you could doe that for us. …Something something… venison. Yeah, I’m out of deer puns.

    [Quietly, away from the mic]

    Steph: Antler? I hardly know ‘er!

    [Pause]

    [High heeled footsteps echo on concrete]

    Steph: The click of high heels echoed off the buildings of Al Satwa. Hassan stumbled, catching himself against a wall still radiating the day's heat. The sound stopped.

    He peered into the darkness ahead, trying to focus his whiskey-blurred vision. Nothing. Just shadows between the streetlights, the distant glitter of Dubai's towers rising above the old neighbourhood.

    [High heeled footsteps on concrete begin again]

    Steph: Behind him now. He spun, too quickly, nearly losing his balance.

    She stood in a pool of amber light, statuesque in an emerald abaya that shimmered like scales. Dark eyes watched him from above a gossamer veil, outlined in kohl that seemed to absorb the streetlight.

    "You shouldn't be out so late," she purred, her voice like honey dripping over broken glass. "The night is not for humans."

    Hassan's chest tightened with desire and dread. He knew he should turn away, hurry home to his wife and children. But her eyes held him, drew him forward as she beckoned with one perfectly manicured hand.

    "Come closer, habibi. Let me see you properly."

    His feet moved without his permission. She smelled of incense and jasmine and something older, something that reminded him of dust in ancient tombs. Her veil slipped, revealing lips painted the colour of fresh blood.

    "Much better," she whispered, pulling him close. Her breath was cold against his ear. "Now, shall I show you my true face?"

    The last thing Hassan saw was her beautiful features melting like wax, skin sagging into deep wrinkles, teeth lengthening into yellowed fangs. His scream died in his throat as her hands, suddenly gnarled and strong as steel cables, tightened around him.

    In the morning, the street cleaners would find only a dark stain on the pavement, already baking in the rising sun.

    [MUSIC]

    Steph: Hi! I’m Steph, and this is Paranormal Pajama Party, the podcast that brings you classic ghost stories and legends featuring female phantoms and femme fatales. Together, we’ll brush the cobwebs off these terrifying tales to shed some light on their origins and learn what they can tell us about the deep-rooted fears society projects onto women.

    Before you come in, I need to warn you that we’re having kind of a straight-edge party tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I love spirits with my spirits, too, but with this crowd, it’s much safer not to.

    No, no, they’re not in recovery or anything. Nope. It’s just that a couple of them… well, you’ll see.

    OK, let me introduce you to tonight’s guests. These ladies go bump in the night – and sometimes bump right into social justice, too.

    So this clammy little goblin woman with pale skin and crazy hair is the Shishiga. Yeah, I know it’s a pyjama party, but she sleeps in the nude. She does everything in the nude. She’s just… she’s a free spirit, you know?

    She’s originally from the bogs and swamps of northeastern Russia. She loves combing her hair by the shore, playing little pranks on people, and being an omen of doom.

    Oh, don’t worry, though. She only does that if you’re drunk. She sneaks into pubs to steal money out of drunk’s wallets, unbuckles their belts so their pants fall down when they stand up, and if they actually see her, it’s a pretty safe bet they’re going to drown or otherwise die by misadventure soon.

    I started tonight off by telling you about the gorgeous Emirati djinn Umm Al Duwai. She’s a total flirt, but you should warn your male friends to watch out – she really doesn’t like cheaters or players. Like… woe betide the dude who tries to pick her up on the streets of Dubai after dark. 

    She’s Muslim, so she’s also not a drinker, although I do think she’s a little harsh on other people who choose to imbibe, what with the whole decapitation thing. Criminy.

    (See why I made it a dry party tonight?)

    And what a pair these two are! I knew you gals would hit it off. Your face, her feet… it’s a match made in heaven!

    This is the siguanaba, who shows up all over Central and South America with different names and backstories. Look at this beautiful dress! A little revealing, sure, but you’ve got a great figure. God, you must look great in everything. Would you mind just… giving my friend here a little peek under the veil? Thank you so much!

    Yep, that’s a horse skull. Why the long face, siguanaba? Ugh, sorry, I bet you get that one all the time. Anyway, she also hates a messy drunk or a womaniser. Haaates them. As in, the kind of hate where she seduces them with her mysterious beauty and then lures them over a cliff to their deaths. If she’s in a really good mood, sometimes she’ll just scare them straight by turning around and revealing her terrifying horse face, though, so that’s kind of nice.

    And this is the Deer Woman. You may have heard of her before – she’s pretty well-known in many Native American cultures – Lakota, Pawnee, Muscogee… lots of different people have seen her.

    She’s called the deer woman because she appears as a deer – or sometimes two – or as a woman, but even then, she has these cute little deer hooves.

    She’s a protector of women and children, so if they see her in a dream and act respectfully, she’ll grant them creative abilities or give them special knowledge, sort of like European fairies. But if a man has a history of being unfaithful or violent against women and dreams about her, or if he runs into her in the woods and has sex with her, she punishes him by driving him to insanity.

    I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Stop trying to bone random women you meet in the forest, people. It never goes well.

    It’s probably pretty clear by now why I wanted to talk about these women tonight. They’re from totally different parts of the world, but each is a kind of enforcer. Their job is to punish men who’ve crossed a social boundary, whether by being dangerously drunk, womanising or being unfaithful, or abusing women or children in some way.

    It’s not unusual to encounter supernatural entities in warning roles. In many stories of the rusalki, for example, they seem like a pretty clear metaphor for the danger of drowning at the height of summer when the local lakes and rivers are at their deepest. But I think tonight’s party guests and the other monsters like them are particularly interesting because they’re not the personification of physical harm. Instead, they represent the consequences of social harm.

    We’ve talked before about supernatural folklore being used as a cautionary tale, as in the case of Brazil’s headless mule, whose torturous punishment is an example of what could happen to women who have taboo relationships with Catholic priests. But you don’t have to be a woman to be the victim of supernatural punishment in traditional stories. All over the world, scary ladies are being used to keep people in line, regardless of their gender.

    I’ve read about some male-coded creatures with a similar role, but it does seem like much of the time, female monsters serve as moral enforcers. And you’re never going to believe this, but it happens in real life, too. Buckle up, because this story has everything – supernatural seductresses, hatchet-wielding temperance warriors, and some surprisingly relevant lessons about who gets to be society's conscience.

    As I’ve been reading stories about these creatures – especially the more murdery Siguanaba and Umm Al Duwai – I’ve been thinking a lot about a feminist philosopher named Carol Gilligan. To my knowledge, Carol has never lured anyone off a cliffside nor removed someone’s head from their body, but she has developed a theory about the way different genders approach ethics.

    She identified two main frameworks: the ethics of justice – traditionally masculine – focuses on rules and consequences, while the ethics of care – traditionally feminine – emphasises relationships and healing.

    Spirits like the Siguanaba and Umm Al Duwais flip this script by embracing harsh justice. They don’t try to talk it out. They don’t enrol these guys in educational gender equity programs to try to rehabilitate them into society. There’s no “I can fix him!” – they just deliver lethal punishment. And that's exactly what makes them so frightening to patriarchal societies: they're women claiming traditionally masculine authority.

    [Spooky voice] Oooo, so unsettliiiing to the patriarchal imaginaaaation!

    There’s a way to read these lady monsters’ actions as empowering. In some of their backstories, they lost their humanity and became creatures of vengeance after being hurt by a man. In many of the origin stories of the Siguanaba, for instance, she was a human woman who was cheating on her male partner, who caught her in the act and murdered her. In other versions, her partner was the one cheating and she took her own life or made a pact with the Devil, and now her spirit wanders the world seeking revenge on unfaithful men.

    And in that context, the revenge can feel a bit narratively satisfying. You could argue that these monsters are taking back male power and justice to use against the group responsible for great harm committed against them. There still aren’t enough social systems in place to address harm against women, and traditional stories acknowledge that injustice by allowing female spirits to be the justice denied to real women, which is, paradoxically, a total ethics of care move.

    But I don’t like that reading. It seems pretty clear to me that these spooky gals are just another tool of the patriarchy designed to keep people in line.

    First of all, just like the headless mule in Brazil, their backstories often have them being turned into monsters by some divine power for committing a relatively small mistake. In some versions of the siguanaba’s story, for example, she was supposedly just too flirty or promiscuous in life, so now she’s doomed to horse-faced vengeance for all eternity. The punishment doesn’t seem to match the crime… especially because those aren’t crimes.

    In the case of the Deer Woman, the Lakota version of her story goes that she was originally named Ite, and was the daughter of the first man and woman on Earth. She was so beautiful that the Wind fell in love with her and they married. But the Wind was ambitious and wanted to become a god. He enlisted the help of the trickster spider, Inktomi, who caused the Sun to fall in love with Ite. At a feast in the heavens, the Sun seated her at his side, instead of his wife, the Moon. To punish her for this disrespect, the Sky cast her to the Earth, where she became Anukite, the Deer Woman, and half her face became hideously ugly.

    So to recap, she was married off to the first guy who told her she was beautiful, and he made a bad business deal that resulted in another guy thinking she was hot. He made her sit in the chair reserved for his wife, and then she was the one punished for all this by being turned into a monster and having her beauty – the one asset she had – taken away.

    I hope there are versions of the story where she has more agency, or versions where Mrs. Moon has anything to say about this whole business. Being saddled with eternal monsterdom just because a boy made you sit next to him at a party sounds like some patriarchal nonsense to me.

    And like I said, women aren’t the only ones being warned by these stories. These monsters’ victims are men, and sure, some of them deserve it. But these female-coded villains are ultimately just another way to enforce gender norms.

    They perpetuate the idea that women who step outside traditional roles by being too flirty, too promiscuous or disobedient in any way will be punished in monstrous ways. Meanwhile, men are receiving a similar message: This is how men behave in our society, and if you don’t follow these rules or mishandle your power, grievous harm will befall you.

    These stories use fear and punishment to ensure compliance, not justice. And even when the victim did deserve it, the revenge strikes me as hollow. Women’s anger and retribution become something supernatural and detached from reality, and monster supervillains conveniently let us off the hook when it comes to getting justice in the real world. In the end, it seems like these stories reflect patriarchal society and reinforce it with every retelling.

    Anyway, this duality—women as both terrifyingly monstrous and moral guardians—makes these stories super interesting to me. I get the whole monster thing. Blah blah blah, women are dangerous when they step out of line, yada yada yada. We’ve seen it all before.

    But why are these monsters the ones folklore picked to get men to toe the line? Why not a male monster who attacks you for not being manly enough, or manly in the right way? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Who knows the rules of what makes a good man better than, you know, men?

    One of the many, many weirdnesses of patriarchal society is that even though historically, women have been labelled as less moral than men, we regularly elevate women as the moral backbone of the family and community, placing the responsibility for maintaining order squarely on their shoulders.

    Last season, in the episodes on “The Fall of the House of Usher”, we talked about the Cult of True Womanhood.

    As a lil’ recap, the Cult of True Womanhood or Culture of Domesticity was a 19th-century cultural ideal that dictated societal expectations for women, particularly in white, Christian, middle- and upper-class circles in the U.S. Society was divided into two spheres: the public, where men worked and protected their families, and the private, where women were expected to serve as “angels in the house.” True Women were supposed to create a sanctuary for their husbands and raise morally upright children while adhering to four cardinal virtues: Piety, Purity, Submission, and Domesticity.

    Even though these expectations confined 19th-century women, they also gave them a unique form of influence: The power to shape the moral fabric of their families and, by extension, society. And ironically, the moral authority that True Womanhood gave them became a tool that they could use to push for changes like the right to vote, and the temperance movement. Both of these arose in part because women reframed their domestic responsibilities as moral imperatives for all of society.

    Temperance, for instance, had the facade of aligning neatly with the Christian piety expected of women, and it probably did truly reflect some women’s faith. But it was also driven by practical concerns like a desire to protect women and children from the harm caused by men’s alcohol abuse. Alcohol exacerbates gender-based violence and financial instability, leaving women and their families vulnerable.

    It also aligns well with the virtue of domesticity, right? By advocating for temperance, women were using the only tool they had – moral authority – to fight for a safer and more stable home life, recasting their domestic role as a force for public good.

    Similarly, suffragettes argued that women’s inherent virtue and dedication to family values made them uniquely qualified to influence politics, especially on issues like education, child welfare, and public health. And that’s how you use the tools of patriarchy as weapons against it.

    But of course, the patriarchy doesn’t like it when that happens. 

    I grew up taking road trips through Medicine Lodge, Kansas, where a radical temperance activist named Carrie Nation started her anti-alcohol campaign in the late 1800s.

    Carrie’s first husband was a raging alcoholic, and his addiction was so intense that it killed him within four years of their meeting, and just a few months after their only daughter was born. This tragedy lit a fire in Carrie, and she started campaigning against alcohol. She remarried and moved to Kansas, where she set up a local temperance branch and sang hymns at the local bar patrons. This wasn’t having the effect she intended, and after praying about it, she had a vision: God wanted her to smash some shit.

    She started destroying saloons with rocks and eventually graduated to hatchets. She’d just show up at a bar, say something like, “Men, I have come to save you from a drunkard's fate,” and then raise her hatchet high and go nuts on the bar fixtures and the booze. She was arrested 30 times in one decade for these shenanigans.

    Carrie Nation is often remembered as a caricature: the wild-eyed, axe-wielding woman smashing saloons in her temperance crusade, but there’s a lot more to her story. She established one of the first battered women’s shelters and organised a sewing circle to make clothes for the poor. She helped prisoners, led women’s rights marches, and spoke out about the health dangers of tight corsets. But nobody ever talks about that stuff or the painful story behind her activism. We just remember her as the psychotic saloon smasher with an axe – a figure of ridicule and horror.

    I’m not endorsing Carrie’s approach, by the way. I’m just saying the portrayal of this real-life woman is not that far off from our teetotaling pyjama party guests. The Shishiga, the Siguanaba, and Umm Al Duwai exist to police male behaviour, particularly around drinking, and are vilified for it. Women in both folklore and history are often assigned the role of moral enforcers but are demonised for stepping into that role.

    Carrie’s far from the only example. Women have historically been at the forefront of moral and social movements, whether progressive or regressive. Jane Addams, for instance, established pioneering social programs for women and children, laying the groundwork for modern social work. Rosa Parks was pivotal in the Civil Rights Movement by refusing to give up her bus seat.

    And this isn’t just true of progressive causes – even the anti-feminist Phyllis Schlafly positioned herself as a moral guardian, fighting to preserve what she saw as traditional American values.

    This pattern continues in the present day. Women like Greta Thunberg and Malala Yousafzai champion moral imperatives like climate justice and girls’ education, respectively, but they’re also vilified. Greta’s mocked online and entangled in public feuds with garbage person Andrew Tate, while Malala survived a freakin’ assassination attempt.

    Following the death of Mahsa Amini in 2022, women in Iran began burning their hijabs, cutting their hair, and eventually leading a broader movement against government oppression and gender inequality. Yet again, women stepped into the role of moral change-makers at great personal cost.

    Throughout history, women have been expected to uphold societal values, raise the next generation, and “keep men in line,” all while being belittled, demonised, or even murdered for the effort. It’s a trap: Somehow we’re unfit for moral leadership and indispensable to it.

    This contradiction speaks to the heart of the patriarchal nonsense women navigate every day. They look down on us while depending on us, demanding we be the mothers, the moral guardians, and the martyrs. And when we step into those roles—whether in folklore or real life—they call us monsters. It’s exhausting and infuriating.

    Even if you’re a woman who’s not on the frontlines of a system-dismantling protest effort, chances are good that you, too, have felt the burden of moral guardianship. The Victorians may be dead, but some of their ideals live on.

    Modern women are still disproportionately expected to manage relationships, build harmony, and mediate ethical dilemmas – but now we’re not confined to the home, so we have to do it at work, too! This invisible emotional labour is totally undervalued, but it's also considered an essential part of being a “good” female colleague.

    As I’ve been researching this episode, I’ve been thinking a lot about Katie Britt, the Alabama senator who delivered the Republican response to Biden’s State of the Union address earlier this year.

    Katie is Alabama's first female senator and the youngest Republican woman ever elected to the Senate, and she delivered her speech from her kitchen table. The staging wasn't subtle – every element was carefully chosen to perform this exact same moral guardian role we've been discussing.

    The kitchen table setting served multiple purposes: It positioned her as a relatable mother concerned about the future, while simultaneously reassuring traditional voters that even a glass-ceiling-breaking senator knows her 'proper place.' The whole performance was meant to do the emotional labour of softening the party's image with female voters while using that very domestic imagery to signal resistance to changing gender norms.

    It's the same old story in a modern package: Women's moral authority is only acceptable when it's confined within traditional gender roles.

    Unfortunately for Katie, instead of coming across as a powerful moral voice, she was widely mocked as “creepy” and “unhinged” – so I guess she can join our pantheon of women who become monsters the moment they try to wield moral authority, even in the most traditionally feminine, June Cleaver way possible.

    When I look around at tonight’s party guests – the Shishiga stealing from drunks, the Siguanaba punishing unfaithful men, the deer woman protecting women and children – I think they’re more than just frightening creatures. I think they're reflections of how society has always tried to have it both ways with women's moral authority.

    These monsters were created to enforce social norms, sure. But, as always on this show, they also reveal a fundamental anxiety about women's power. When we step into the role society demands of us – whether that's being moral guardians, activists, or even senators at their kitchen tables – we're still somehow seen as monstrous for doing exactly what's expected of us.

    They’re compelling to me because they're caught in the same double bind as real women throughout history – tasked with keeping society in line while being demonised for wielding that very power. But unlike Carrie Nation or modern activists, these supernatural ladies don't seem too bothered by their monster status. Maybe there's a lesson in that.

    [MUSIC]

    Steph: It’s time for lights out at the Paranormal Pajama Party. These lovely ladies are headed out into the darkness – they’ve got to make their rounds. Bye, gals! Hope you meet some really bad men out there tonight. That feels weird to say, but in this case, I mean it.

    To learn more about the Shishiga, the Siguanaba, Umm Al Duwais, the Deer Woman, or Katie Britt’s kitchen table, check out my sources in the show notes.

    Follow @ParanormalPJParty on Instagram to see visuals from today’s episode.

    I’ll be back in two weeks with more spine-tingling tales and critical discussion. In the meantime, don’t forget: Ghosts have stories. Women have voices. Dare to listen.

[Episode transcript 👻]

This paradox lies at the heart of tonight’s episode. We’ll talk about its cultural roots through the lens of folklore and connect this paradox to history, from the Cult of True Womanhood to suffrage and temperance campaigns, and explore its modern manifestations in figures like Greta Thunberg and Senator Katie Britt. The result? A clearer picture of how women’s moral guardianship has been weaponised – and why it’s still so hard to escape.

Meet the monsters: The Shishiga, the Siguanaba, Umm al-Duwais, and the Deer Woman

The shishiga: The trickster goblin from the forest

The shishiga, from Slavic folklore, is a mischievous trickster who frequents bars, playing pranks on inebriated men. If a drunk man catches sight of her, it’s considered an ominous warning of his impending death. She acts as a supernatural check on those who indulge too much.

The Siguanaba: A warning to wayward men

The siguanaba goes by many names across Central and South America, but in nearly every story, she lures drunk and unfaithful men with her beauty, leading them astray before revealing her grotesque, horse- or skull-faced form. Her punishments go beyond a scare – she drives her victims to madness or leads them off cliffs, a literal fall from grace.

Umm al-Duwais: The desert phantom

The umm al-duwais, a figure in Emirati folklore, functions almost as a religious enforcer, targeting men who violate Islamic laws by drinking alcohol or committing adultery. Known for her intoxicating beauty, she seduces these men, only to unleash her monstrous true form as a reminder of divine justice.

Deer Woman: avenger of the abused

The Deer Woman, prominent in Native American traditions, is a protector of women and a punisher of abusers. Often described as a beautiful woman with deer hooves, she confronts predators and ensures justice for their wrongdoings.

It’s pretty tempting to read these figures as feminist avengers, dispensing justice against bad men. But these monsters are absolutely tools of the patriarchy, enforcing societal norms and keeping all genders in line. Even as they punish male misbehaviour, they are cast as villains for doing exactly what society expects of women – policing morality.

From angels in the home to the temperance movement

The expectation that women act as moral guardians has deep roots. As we discussed in Part 2 of our “The Fall of the House of Usher” series, the Cult of True Womanhood in the 19th century idealised women as virtuous angels in the home, responsible for the spiritual and moral health of their families.

This ideal coexisted in direct contradiction with the widespread belief that women were morally weaker than men – more susceptible to temptation and hysteria, requiring constant guidance and protection. Despite this, they were tasked with embodying and enforcing society’s moral standards.

And this wasn’t just a private role – it became a public one. Women leveraged this moral authority to lead campaigns for suffrage and temperance. Figures like Carrie Nation, infamous for her hatchet-wielding attacks on saloons, embodied this paradox. Her crusade against alcohol was rooted in protecting families from harm, yet she was mocked as a madwoman for her righteous fury.

This pattern repeats throughout history. Women who step into public moral leadership often face scorn and ridicule, even as their causes succeed. Their work is necessary but unappreciated, and their authority is questioned even when society benefits.

The new face of moral guardianship: emotional labour

Victorian ideals may have faded, but the expectation that women shoulder society’s moral burden hasn’t. Today, it’s rebranded as emotional labour – the unspoken responsibility to manage emotions, resolve conflicts, and maintain harmony.

This labour often falls on women, from navigating workplace tensions to bearing the emotional weight of relationships. It’s the same expectation in a different guise: women must fix what others break, smoothing over rifts while keeping their own feelings in check.

Public figures like Greta Thunberg and Alabama Senator Katie Britt are modern examples of how this burden plays out on the global stage. Thunberg’s relentless advocacy for climate action has made her a target of misogynistic attacks, from mockery of her age to deliberate antagonism by figures like Andrew Tate. Similarly, Britt’s emotional, maternal framing during her Republican Party response to the State of the Union was ridiculed across political lines, even as she performed the moral labour expected of her.

Why the paradox matters

This paradox has persisted for centuries, shaping how women are perceived and treated. Whether we’re mythical monsters, temperance crusaders, or modern-day activists, we’re expected to be kind mothers to society – and punished when we embody that role too effectively.

But by understanding the roots of this expectation, we can begin to dismantle it. Moral responsibility shouldn’t rest on women’s shoulders alone, nor should it come at the cost of their humanity. Instead of perpetuating outdated ideals, we must share the burden of creating a just and caring society.

If you’re enjoying Paranormal Pajama Party, please share it with a friend, or leave a five-star rating or review on your favourite podcast app.

Sources

Stephanie Summar
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Episode 28: Chloe, Cleo, and the Myrtles Plantation