Originally designed as functional scientific objects, American weather vanes are now considered valuable examples of sculpture from early in the country’s history. Initially people relied on them to indicate which direction the wind blew, helping predict weather patterns. Perched high atop houses, barns, churches, and civic buildings, weather vanes were sometimes decorative, shaped into recognizable forms, and frequently covered in gold leaf, which sparkled in the sunlight. Vanes could signal the function of the building below them: an angel Gabriel with a trumpet may have risen over a church, or a cow or goat may have rested on top of a barn. One of my favorite weather vanes depicts the Goddess of Liberty, an iconic symbol of American patriotism and a bold assertion of the promise of the United States.

I’ve been thinking about this weather vane a lot lately. As my colleagues and I reimagine our 18th-century Art of the Americas galleries to mark the 250th anniversary of our country’s founding, the word “liberty” comes up a lot. The clandestine group of colonial rebels who encouraged protests of British taxes, ultimately fomenting revolution, went by the name the Sons of Liberty. In the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson famously asserted that “all men are created equal” and have the “unalienable right” for “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Yet we know that Jefferson, an enslaver, did not really mean liberty for all. I am learning how definitions of “liberty” (and who deserved it) have evolved and expanded over the past 250 years.

Images of liberty are widespread in American visual culture, usually personified as a woman in flowing robes, inspired by the ancient Roman goddess of freedom, Libertas. American depictions, like our weather vane, sometimes substitute an American flag for Libertas’s rod or spear, but retain her loose pointed cap, named after the ancient Phrygians, who wore it as a symbol of their freedom. In the years after the American Revolution, the Goddess of Liberty became an enduring symbol of the nation and was depicted regularly in newspapers and periodicals, as well as on currency and stamps. Her image enjoyed a resurgence of popularity after the end of the Civil War in 1865, and again a decade later, when France announced its intent to present the Statue of Liberty to the United States and showed elements of that monumental sculpture at the 1876 Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia. Our weather vane is part of this revival, made around the 1870s.

When I look at this weather vane, I can’t help but wonder what liberty meant to the person who installed it on top of their building in the 1870s. Did they see the irony of using a woman as a symbol of freedom when women still did not have the power to vote? Was it a source of pride or comfort to have this matronly figure presiding? Did they see it as an emblem of power or dominance? Or did they see it as a symbol of hope and resistance?

I tend to align with this latter interpretation—with my own feminist twist. Weather vanes point to the source of the wind, not the direction the wind is blowing. That means our Goddess was perpetually battling a headwind. Yet she stands tall, chin raised, hair flowing back with an arm elegantly pointing forward, resisting the forces that try to knock her down. To me, the Goddess of Liberty weather vane is a bold assertion of the promise of the United States: perseverance in the never-ending pursuit to achieve liberty for all.