Christine de Pizan loved books. Unfortunately, some of the men writing them weren’t particularly fond of women. They were dishonest, foolish, immoral, and apparently responsible for most of the world’s problems. These accusations appeared in respected works, written by educated men whose opinions were rarely questioned. Christine had the unusual privilege of being able to read them. She also had the intelligence to notice that something was terribly wrong. It would take years before she could answer those writers, and the road that led her there was hardly a pleasant one.

Born in Venice around 1364, Christine moved to Paris as a child when her father, Tommaso da Pizzano, entered the service of King Charles V as a physician and astrologer. Her father encouraged her education, and she grew up reading literature, history, and philosophy. Most girls weren’t given that opportunity, but Christine had access to books and scholars through the royal court. At around fifteen, she married Étienne du Castel, a royal secretary. The marriage was a happy one, according to her own writing, and they had three children. For several years, Christine enjoyed a comfortable life with her family.

Charles V died in 1380, followed by Christine’s father later that decade. Around 1389, her husband died unexpectedly. Christine was still in her twenties, with three children and her widowed mother depending on her. Along with losing the people closest to her, she inherited a financial mess. There were debts, money owed to her family, and legal disputes that dragged on for years. Trying to recover what belonged to her meant dealing with courts and creditors in a society that gave women little control over their financial affairs. Grief would have to share its place with the rather less poetic business of paying the bills. Christine never remarried. She began supporting her family through writing instead.

Her first works were poems, many about love and the husband she’d lost. They attracted wealthy patrons, and by the late 1390s, Christine was earning commissions as an author. She also supervised the preparation of her manuscripts, taking an active part in their production. For someone who had struggled through years of financial uncertainty, writing had become a profession. But the books she’d once read for pleasure had also given her plenty to think about. In 1399, she wrote The Letter of the God of Love, criticizing the contempt for women that appeared throughout medieval literature. The insults were familiar enough. Women were supposedly incapable of good judgment, yet the men making those accusations rarely seemed interested in hearing a woman’s opinion. Christine was about to make that considerably more difficult.

In 1401, she entered a literary dispute over The Romance of the Rose, one of the most admired works in medieval France. Christine objected to the sections written by Jean de Meun, particularly his treatment of women. Jean de Montreuil and the brothers Gontier and Pierre Col defended the poem, and an exchange of letters followed. Christine challenged their arguments and questioned the responsibility of writers whose words encouraged contempt for women. The theologian Jean Gerson also criticized the work, although his objections differed from hers. By February 1402, Christine had collected the correspondence and presented it to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria and Guillaume de Tignonville, the Provost of Paris. The dispute had reached the royal court. A celebrated author was being challenged by a woman who refused to accept that his reputation placed his writing beyond criticism.

In 1404, Christine completed a biography of King Charles V, commissioned by Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy. Then came The Book of the City of Ladies in 1405. The book begins with Christine questioning why so many respected writers considered women inferior. Three figures representing Reason, Rectitude, and Justice appear to help her build an imaginary city, populated by remarkable women from history, religion, and mythology. There are queens, scholars, warriors, and poets, including the ancient Greek writer Sappho. Christine gathers their stories to confront the accusations she’d encountered in her reading. She also questions women’s exclusion from education. Girls were denied the same opportunities as boys, then criticized for knowing less. The unfairness hardly required a complicated philosophical argument to expose it. That same year, Christine wrote The Book of the Three Virtues, offering advice to women from different social backgrounds. Her beliefs remained rooted in medieval Christianity, and some of her views on women’s conduct would seem restrictive today. She wasn’t trying to abandon the world she knew. She wanted its judgments about women to make sense, and too many of them simply didn’t.

France was meanwhile moving towards civil war. On October 5, 1405, Christine addressed a letter to Queen Isabeau, urging her to intervene in the growing conflict between Louis of Orléans and John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. Their rivalry threatened the kingdom, and Christine believed the queen could help restore peace. Isabeau’s position at court was complicated, with her authority frequently contested, but Christine called on her to exercise what influence she possessed. It was a serious political appeal. The writer who had questioned men’s opinions about women’s judgment was now asking a woman to use hers in a matter affecting an entire country.

Christine’s work continued to address politics, leadership, and war. In 1410, she completed The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, examining military strategy, warfare, and the laws governing armed conflict. Her subjects had changed considerably since the poems that began her career. France was changing too, though for the worse. The Hundred Years’ War continued, rival French factions fought for power, and the violence became increasingly difficult to escape. By 1418, Christine appears to have left Paris, possibly seeking refuge at the Abbey of Poissy, where her daughter was a nun. Her surviving writing from these years is scarce. A country that had once offered her a home, an education, and a literary career was being consumed by war.

In 1429, Joan of Arc helped lift the English siege of Orléans and accompanied the campaign that led to Charles VII’s coronation at Reims. France had spent decades suffering through war, and Joan’s victories gave the country a reason to hope. Christine returned to writing with The Song of Joan of Arc, praising the young woman’s courage and celebrating what she believed was God’s intervention. Her religious faith shaped the poem, as it had shaped much of her life. Yet Joan’s appearance carried another significance. Christine had filled her imaginary city with women whose achievements contradicted the claims of famous writers. Now a teenage girl was making history in France, leading soldiers while an older woman who had spent her life defending women’s abilities was writing about her. Christine had survived long enough to witness something she might once have searched for in the pages of an ancient book.

The Song of Joan of Arc was Christine’s last surviving work. She probably died around 1430, although the exact date is unknown. Her books remained, along with many of the prejudices she’d argued against. Women would continue to face restrictions on their education, independence, and right to be heard. Christine had written about grief, government, warfare, and the achievements of women whom history had too often overlooked. She had challenged respected scholars and addressed royalty, earning her living from the very thing she had loved as a child. The men who dismissed women had not run out of arguments, and their books weren’t going anywhere. Neither were hers.