Lilith is a figure rooted in mythology, religion, and feminist reinterpretation. Her story is layered with centuries of reinterpretation and cultural overlays.
While Lilith, in Jewish mythology is known to most of us as Adam’s first wife, she actually predates biblical texts, appearing in ancient Mesopotamian texts, as a winged female demon called Lilitu around 2000 BCE.
Setting her early debut aside, the most widely spread narrative emerged much later from the Alphabet of Ben Sira, which posits her first-made-woman role. In the text it is alleged that she was created from the same earth as Adam, making her his equal. (Long before god took a man-rib, created a Stepford wife, and gave the all-male biblical editorial team an excellent starting point for the child-friendly bible stories to begin).
In a fairly predictable, oft-repeated and clumsy first move, instead of naming animals or just enjoying the garden he was plopped in, Adam tried to dominate Lilith. Being his equal, she strenuously objected, got bored of pushy men-things, swore at god, unfurled her wings and pissed off, seeking greener pastures. God then created Eve from Adam’s rib—subordinate by design.
Lilith is referenced rather unkindly in various mystical and folkloric Jewish texts, especially within Kabbalistic traditions. In the Zohar she appears as a demon, consort of Samael and mother to demon children. The Book of Isaiah (34:14) alludes to Lilith, depending on translation as “the screech owl” or “night creature”. I wouldn’t be all that offended by these sobriquets, but there’s little doubt they were not meant to flatter, given who wrote them.
Symbolically, Lilith is associated with night, the moon, owls, snakes, and independence. Her appearance varies: she’s sometimes described as a beautiful, long-haired woman with bat wings and by others, as more demon-like. The owl, a symbol of wisdom and the night, is especially linked to her.
She has become an icon in feminist thought, often recast as a symbol of female rebellion, autonomy, and sexual liberation. Her refusal to submit to Adam is seen not as sin but as ownership of self. Gloria Steinem notably embraced Lilith in her Ms. magazine, and the 1990s Lilith Fair music festival, celebrating female artists, borrowed her name as a nod to this empowered image.
Jungians have interpreted her as an archetype of the “dark feminine” or shadow aspect of the anima. She represents the once-repressed and feared aspects of the feminine —power, sexuality, rage (well, still-feared if you’re Jordan Petersen). Jungian psychologist Robert A. Johnson described her as “the first feminist,” while Jungian Marie-Louise von Franz saw her as embodying powerful and necessary forces within the psyche.
Feminist writer Judith Plaskow wrote in The Coming of Lilith: “Lilith is the woman who refused to return to the Garden. She is the woman who knows the history of the Garden and cannot forget.”
Lilith is more than a demon or myth—she’s a cultural symbol whose meaning has shifted with the times. Once feared, now revered, she stands for resistance, equality, and the darker truths women have historically been told to suppress.
She shelters the unwanted, the untamed, the unrepentant. Those who yearn for nothing more or less than to embody their femininity in full and unhindered.
She sits not in paradise, playing a harp. She rules the night, with wings like shadows, the embodiment of untamed desire, rage, independence and equality.
They told you rib-made Eve was the origin of feminine grace, hoping you’d forget Lilith. But She, made equal, dwelling in the shadow-mind of woman, was not a forgettable thing. Her time is now.