Image by Enrique Meseguer
In This Article
- The Forgotten Tale of Little Golden Hood – A fairytale with a twist.
- Why This Version Matters – Strong female characters replacing passive roles.
- The Grandmother as the Heroine – A wise, magical figure guiding the journey.
- Themes of Self-Reliance and Empowerment – What this fairytale teaches us today.
- The Evolution of Folklore – How stories change and reflect cultural values.
The True Story of Little Red Riding Hood
by Sharon Blackie.
I’m quite sure you’ll know the tale of poor Little Red Riding Hood, who was deceived and devoured by the big bad wolf.
Well, what you might not know is that the true story happened quite differently. First of all, the child was actually called Little Golden Hood; second, it was neither she nor her grandmother but the wicked wolf who was, in the end, caught and devoured.
So listen...
The true story begins in a way that is similar to the way the other tale began.
There was once a little girl, bright and beautiful as a star in its season. Her real name was Blanchette, but more often than not she was called Little Golden Hood, because of a wonderful little cloak with a hood, gold- and fire-colored, which she always wore. This little hood had been given to her by her grandmother, who was so very old that she couldn’t remember her age anymore.
Her grandmother told her that the cloak would bring her good luck, for it was made of a ray of sunshine. And since this good old woman was considered to be something of a witch, everyone thought that the little hood was rather bewitched too.
And so it was, as you will see.
One day, her mother said to Blanchette: “Take this nice big piece of cake to your grandmother for tomorrow’s Sunday treat. And then come back at once, and don’t under any circumstances stop to chatter with people you don’t know. Do you quite understand?”
“I quite understand,” Blanchette replied happily. And off she went with the cake, rather proud of herself and the importance of her errand.
But her grandmother lived at the edge of another village, and a deep, dark forest had to be crossed before she could reach it. She came to the threshold of the forest and passed into the trees, and as the road turned sharply to the right, she spotted a movement out of the corner of her eye. “Who goes there?” she cried.
“Friend Wolf.” The wolf had seen the child set out on her journey alone and, villain that he was, he was waiting to devour her — but he noticed some woodcutters who might see him doing it, and so he changed his mind. Instead of leaping on Blanchette and bringing her down, he came frisking up to her like a friendly dog.
“It’s you! And aren’t you a nice Little Golden Hood!” he said. The little girl stopped to talk with the wolf, who, it has to be said, she didn’t know at all.
“You know me, then!” she said. “And what is your name?”
“My name is Friend Wolf,” he replied, baring his shiny white teeth. “And where are you going today, my pretty one, with your little basket on your arm?”
"I’m going to visit my grandmother.”
“And where does she live, your grandmother?”
“She lives at the other side of the forest, in the very first house at the edge of the village, near the windmill. Do you know it?”
“Ah, yes! I know it, for sure,” said the wolf. “Well now, and isn’t that a fine coincidence: that’s just where I’m going. I shall get there before you do, with your tiny little legs, and I’ll tell her you’re coming to see her. Then she’ll be expecting you.”
So the wolf cut quickly across the forest, and before five minutes had passed, he’d arrived at the grandmother’s house.
He knocked at the door: Toc, toc!
There was no answer.
He knocked louder: TOG, TOG!
Nobody.
Then he stood up on his hind legs, put his forepaws on the latch — and the door swung open.
There wasn’t a soul in the house. The old woman had risen early to go and sell her herbs in town; she had left in such a rush that she’d left her bed unmade, and her great white nightcap was lying there on the pillow.
“Good!” said the wolf to himself. “Now I know just what to do.”
So he shut the door, pulled the grandmother’s nightcap over his ears and all the way down his great forehead to his eyes, then stretched out in the bed and drew the curtains.
In the meantime, little Blanchette traveled quietly on her way, amusing herself here and there, as little girls do, by picking Easter daisies, watching the birds making their nests, and running after butterflies that fluttered in the sunshine.
At last…
She arrived at the door of her grandmother’s house. Knock, knock!
“Who is there?” said the wolf, softening his rough voice as best he could.
“It’s me, Granny — your Little Golden Hood. I’ve brought you a nice big piece of cake for your Sunday treat tomorrow.”
“Press your finger on the latch, then push, and the door will open.”
“Why, you’ve got a cold, Granny,” she said as she came into the room.
“Ahem!” the wolf replied, pretending to cough. “Well, maybe a little. Shut the door properly now, my little lamb. Put your basket on the table, and then take off your frock and come and lie down beside me. We’ll rest for a while together.”
The good child removed her frock but kept the golden hood on her head. When she saw what a strange figure her granny cut in bed, the poor thing was astonished.
“Oh!” she said, “you look so much like Friend Wolf!” “That’s just because of my nightcap, child,” the wolf said. “And oh, what hairy arms you’ve got, Grandmother!”
“All the better to hug you with, my child.”
“And goodness, what a big tongue you’ve got, Grandmother!” “All the better for talking to you, child.”
“But really, what a mouthful of great white teeth you have, Grandmother!”
“That’s for crunching up little children!” snarled the wolf — and he turned and opened his jaws wide to swallow up Blanchette.
She quickly lowered her head, crying, “Mamma! Mamma!” and the wolf’s teeth missed their aim and only caught her little hood.
Then — oh deary, deary me! — he drew back, crying out and shaking his head as if he had swallowed red-hot coals. Because that little fire-colored hood had burned his tongue all the way back, deep down into his throat.
The hood, you see, was made with witchy magic — the kind that in old days was used for casting spells of invisibility or protection.
So there was the wolf with his throat burned, jumping off the bed and trying to find the door, howling and yowling as if all the dogs in the country were at his heels.
Just at this moment Blanchette’s grandmother arrived, returning home from the town with her long herb-sack empty on her shoulder.
“Ah, you rascal!” she cried when she saw the wolf. “Now just you wait there!” — but the maddened wolf, desperate to find his way to water to cool his burning mouth and throat, sprang toward the doorway.
But that old granny was fast: she quickly opened her sack wide and held it across the opening; the wolf dashed in, headfirst. So he was the one who was caught now, swallowed right up like a letter in the mouth of a postbox.
The brave old woman closed her sack and ran outside to empty it into the well. And that scoundrel of a wolf, still howling, tumbled in and was quite drowned.
The grandmother returned inside to dress poor Blanchette, who was still trembling with fear in the bed.
“Well,” she said to her, “and where would you be now, darling, without my little hood?”
She made the child eat half of her cake and drink a good glass of wine, and then she took her by the hand and led her back home again. Her mother scolded her when she found out what had happened, but Blanchette promised over and over that she would never again stop to talk to a wolf, and at last she was forgiven.
And Blanchette, the Little Golden Hood, forever afterward kept her word.
From Passive to Active
In most of the many versions of the story of Little Red Riding Hood (or Little Red Cap, in the variant by the Brothers Grimm), the little girl’s grandmother is presented as a passive character — and often a dead one, frail and easily overcome and swallowed up by the big bad wolf.
This wonderful and surprisingly little-known revisioning of that story, originally told by French writer and folklorist Charles Marelle in 1888, offers us a granny with agency.
This quick-thinking old woman is perfectly capable of trapping the wolf on her own, so that there is no need, as in most versions of the story, for a huntsman — or for any other man — to save them.
And, it presents us with a granny who also happens to be a witch: a witch who is so old that she can’t remember her age anymore, and a witch who is thought of by her community as a “good old woman” — not as malevolent or cursed.
The Journey into Self-Reliant Adulthood
It’s the mother who sends Little Golden Hood off on her first solo foray into the woods, and so initiates the first stage of her long journey into self-reliant adulthood — but it’s the formidable old granny who shows the girl how to survive it.
This particular granny-witch had always foreseen the possibility of danger for the girl and had protected her from an early age by giving her the gift of a talisman, in the form of a golden hood.
Even though she and her magic are presented as perfectly benign, you nevertheless wouldn’t want to mess with this witch, and that makes her all the more attractive to us as a role model.
Reaching Midlife as Fierce Women
By the time we’ve reached midlife, women today are bone-tired of being messed with, and so the idea that we might find ways to be fierce and to protect ourselves has its resonances, for sure.
And in this story, it’s particularly gratifying that a grandmother who is so old that she can’t remember her age still has the power to overcome the big bad wolf.
Copyright © 2024 by Sharon Blackie.
Reprinted with permission from New World Library.
Article Source
BOOK: Wise Women
Wise Women: Myths and Stories for Midlife and Beyond
by Sharon Blackie.
From early childhood, we learn about the world and its possibilities through myths and fairy tales. The heroines, though, tend to be young princesses or fair maidens, and the evildoers older women: wicked witches or unforgiving matriarchs. Yet a wealth of lesser-known European stories feature mature wise women with personality and power. Compiling many years of research, Sharon Blackie has reclaimed these tales, presenting them in evocative prose that will resonate with women of all ages.
This dazzling array of not-to-be-messed-with older characters provides compelling role models for today’s listeners, who seek to redefine their relationship with aging. These women outwit monsters, test and mentor younger heroines, embody the cycles of the Earth, weave the world into being — and almost always have the last laugh. Each story is accompanied by background commentary that highlights important themes and reveals its insights into how we might live meaningfully and authentically in the second half of life.
Click here for more info and/or to order this hardback book. Also available as an Audiobook and as a paperback and a Kindle edition.
About the Author
Dr. Sharon Blackie is an award-winning writer, psychologist and mythologist. Her highly acclaimed books, courses, lectures and workshops are focused on the development of the mythic imagination, and on the relevance of myths, fairy tales and folk traditions to the personal, cultural and environmental problems we face today.
As well as writing five books of fiction and nonfiction, including the bestselling If Women Rose Rooted and her latest, Hagitude, her writing has appeared in anthologies, collections and in several international media outlets. Her books have been translated into several languages, and her awards include the Roger Deakin Award, and a Creative Scotland Writer’s Award. Sharon is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, and has taught and lectured at several academic institutions, Jungian organisations, retreat centres and cultural festivals around the world.
Visit her website at SharonBlackie.net/
More Books by the author.
Article Recap:
The classic tale of Little Red Riding Hood has a lesser-known, empowering counterpart—Little Golden Hood. Unlike the traditional version, this story features a wise grandmother with magical foresight who helps her granddaughter outwit the wolf. It’s a forgotten feminist folktale showcasing self-reliance, resilience, and the enduring wisdom of older women.
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