Now I Know How Joan of Arc Felt

On Morrissey, martyrdom, and the price of honesty

There’s a line in Morrissey’s Bigmouth Strikes Again that’s always haunted me:

“Now I know how Joan of Arc felt.”

It’s half a joke, half a confession. Delivered with sarcasm and a touch of camp, yet underneath it all — it’s deadly serious.

Because if you’ve ever said too much, revealed too much, or simply been too much for this world — you know exactly what he means.

Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. For what? Hearing voices. Following her convictions. For refusing to be quiet, obedient, or ordinary.

Sound familiar?

We don’t burn people at the stake anymore.

We just ignore them. Mock them. Cancel them. Starve them of attention.

We exile them quietly, socially — one eye roll, one unfollow, one “he’s a bit much” at a time.

For artists, this is the tax on authenticity. Speak your truth, and you risk being misunderstood. Say what you really feel, and you’ll be labeled difficult, dramatic, delusional.

Morrissey knew this all too well.

He is the bigmouth who strikes again — every time he opens his mouth, someone’s offended. But at least he says something. Something real. Something risky.

That line — “Now I know how Joan of Arc felt” — is about more than martyrdom.

It’s about isolation. About saying what needs to be said and watching the world punish you for it. About the loneliness that comes from not playing along.

And still… we keep speaking.

Because silence isn’t salvation.

And if they’re going to light the match, at least we go down with something worth burning