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POWER AND PREJUDICE

The role of patriarchy in Greek mythology, also highlighting the powerful feminist themes and  figures that challenge it.

Greek mythology is a pandora box full of stories that are larger than life and packed with lessons, and legacies. Beyond the epic battles and divine tantrums, there's something deeper: a mirror reflecting the social norms, values, and dynamics of the ancient world. Let’s just say, it’s quite the eye opener. Guess some things never change.

In the blog “Power and Prejudice”, we'll explore the intricate dance between patriarchy and feminism in Greek Mythology to talk about how these tales reflect societal structures that still echo today. In the blogs to come, each post will summarize a mythological story, breaking down the plot, and then dive into an analysis of the patriarchy woven into its fabric. Think of it as a backstage pass to the divine drama, where we��ll unpack the power plays, the heroes, and the heroines, all while keeping an eye on the underlying social commentary.

So the main question, what is the basic lore of “Greek Mythology”? At its core, Greek mythology is about gods, heroes, and mortals navigating their roles in a universe governed by fate, power, and often temperamental deities. Myths often explored universal themes like love, betrayal, revenge, and the quest for glory. The stories served as moral lessons, explaining natural phenomena, and justifying cultural norms. In essence, Greek Mythology is a rich tapestry of stories where gods act like humans, humans strive for the divine, and the universe operates with a chaotic yet poetic logic. 

The creation of the Universe begins with Chaos, the primordial void. From Chaos emerged fundamental entities like Gaia (Earth), Uranus (Sky), and Nyx (Night). Gaia and Uranus gave birth to the Titans, monstrous beings like the Cyclopes and the Hecatoncheires. Uranus, fearing his children, imprisoned them, leading Gaia to conspire with her son Kronos, who overthrew Uranus. Kronos, now the ruler, became paranoid after a prophecy predicted his own downfall. He swallowed his children as they were born. His wife, Rhea, tricked him by hiding their youngest son, Zeus, who eventually freed his siblings and led a rebellion against Kronos and the Titans. This war, known as the Titanomachy, ended with Zeus and his siblings—Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Demeter, and Hestia—emerging victorious and establishing rule from Mount Olympus.

Now, how is patriarchy tied with Greek Mythology? Patriarchy in Greek Mythology is deeply tied to its reflection of Ancient Greek society, where men held most positions of power and influence, and women were often relegated to subordinate roles. These myths served another purpose then just stories, they were tools to reinforce societal norms and justify the existing hierarchy. At its core, Greek Mythology is a narrative where male authority dominates.

Furthermore, the mythology intertwines gender roles with moral and cosmic order. Male figures are celebrated for traits like bravery, wisdom, and leadership, while women are often associated with beauty, fertility, or cunning. When women deviate from these expectations, they are frequently portrayed as dangerous or disruptive, reinforcing a cultural caution against challenging patriarchal norms. (Reader’s Note: the stories were narrated by men who held the belief that women could not get along with other talented women and therefore the concept of jealousy and the portrayal of toxic femininity came into play)

In conclusion, Greek mythology has always been larger than life, filled with gods, heroes, and mortals trying to make sense of a chaotic world but beneath all the lightning bolts and epic quests lies something deeper—a glimpse into how power and gender roles shaped ancient society. These myths didn’t just entertain; they reinforced the rules of a world where men dominated and women navigated a system that often sidelined them.

“Power and Prejudice” embarks on this mythological journey, dissecting the tales, analyzing their themes, and unearthing the lessons they hold for today. We’ll explore the push and pull between patriarchy and feminism, where gods and mortals alike played out struggles for power and agency. As we delve into the epic tales of gods and mortals, may we uncover the timeless truths hidden within. 

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ZEUS: THE KING OF GODS IS STILL JUST A MAN [Painting by Heinrich Friedrich Füger]

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ZEUS: THE KING OF GODS IS STILL JUST A MAN

Zeus, the king of the Greek gods, embodies the archetype of patriarchal power in mythology. Zeus’s role in patriarchy is demonstrated through his exercise of absolute power, his relationships with women, and his enforcement of hierarchies. Zeus, although the King of Gods, is known mostly for the absurd ways he had relationships with women, ranging from consensual encounters to outright abductions and assaults. These stories are a reflection of how male authority and dominance goes unquestioned and unpunished and it’s the women who suffer from the consequences for the whimsy of men, no matter her status.

1. Hera

Hera is Zeus’ sister and wife. She was the queen of the gods, associated with marriage and family. 

Zeus was determined to have her as the queen of the gods, but she was not interested in marrying him. Zeus transformed himself into a cuckoo bird to melt her heart and she took pity on the bird and took it in her arms to dry it. He then transformed back into his true form and ravished her. Hera decided to marry Zeus to cover her shame.

Her retaliation against Zeus’s lovers and their children is portrayed negatively, while Zeus’s infidelities are normalized or celebrated as displays of power and virility. The dynamic illustrates a double standard where Zeus is free to act without consequence, but Hera is vilified for reacting. Hera’s narrative exemplifies how even powerful women in patriarchal systems are reduced to roles defined by their relationships to men, and their struggles are dismissed or vilified.

2. Europa

Europa was a beautiful Phoenician princess, the daughter of King Agenor of Tyre. Her charm and grace were so extraordinary that they caught the attention of Zeus, who immediately became infatuated with her. Zeus didn’t approach Europa in a straightforward way. Instead, he devised a cunning plan to win her over—or, more accurately, take her.

Zeus transformed himself into a majestic, snow-white bull with golden horns and a gentle demeanor. He appeared among the herd of Europa’s father’s cattle while Europa and her friends were gathering flowers near the shore. Struck by the bull’s beauty and tame nature, Europa approached him. The bull knelt before her, inviting her to climb onto his back. As soon as Europa sat atop the bull, Zeus leapt into the sea and swam across the waters, carrying her far away from her homeland. He took her to the island of Crete, where he revealed his true identity as the King of the Gods. In Crete, Europa bore Zeus three sons: Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Sarpedon, all of whom would become notable figures in Greek mythology. 

Zeus’s transformation and abduction of Europa show how male dominance is normalized in Greek myths. By deceiving Europa, Zeus takes away her choice and uses  deception  to get what he wants. The story is often told as a romantic adventure, glossing over the trauma of being abducted. This reinforces a patriarchal view that downplays women’s experiences.

3. Leda

Leda was a Spartan queen, celebrated for her beauty and her offspring, including Helen of Troy. She was married to Tyndareus, the king of Sparta, and was living a peaceful, noble life.

Her beauty, however, caught the eye of Zeus,  transformed himself into a magnificent swan and approached Leda while she was by a river. At that moment, Zeus revealed his true nature and imposed himself upon her, leaving her with little control over the situation. That same night, Leda lay with her husband, Tyndareus. As a result of these unions—one divine and one mortal—Leda gave birth to two sets of twins, who emerged from eggs: Helen and Pollux (Polydeuces): The divine children of Zeus; Clytemnestra and Castor: The mortal offspring of Tyndareus. 

Leda’s role in the myth is mostly passive, as she is a target of Zeus’s power rather than an active participant. Her thoughts and feelings are ignored, highlighting how women’s voices are sidelined in patriarchal stories. While Zeus acts without consequences, Leda is the one who suffers emotionally, socially, and within her family. These myths often excuse the actions of powerful men while leaving women to deal with the fallout.

4. Danae

Danaë was a princess of Argos and the daughter of King Acrisius. 

King Acrisius of Argos, desperate for a male heir, consulted the Oracle of Delphi and learned he would be killed by his daughter Danaë’s son. Fearing the prophecy, he locked Danaë in a bronze chamber to prevent her from having children. However, Zeus, captivated by Danaë’s beauty, transformed into a golden shower and entered the chamber. Through this miraculous encounter, Danaë gave birth to Perseus, who would later become one of Greek mythology’s greatest heroes. When Acrisius discovered Danaë had given birth to a child, his fear of the prophecy grew. In an act of desperation, he cast Danaë and her infant son into the sea in a wooden chest, intending to rid himself of the threat. However, they survived, rescued by the fisherman Dictys on the island of Seriphos, where Perseus would grow up to fulfill his destiny.

Acrisius’s decision to imprison Danaë underscores a recurring theme in patriarchal narratives: the attempt to control women’s bodies and choices to preserve male power. This reflects a patriarchal view where women are seen as vessels for continuing lineage rather than individuals with their own authority. Zeus, in his divine form as a golden shower, bypasses Danaë’s consent, reinforcing the power imbalance. Despite being victimized by both Acrisius and Zeus, Danaë bears the consequences, being cast out with her child while Zeus’s actions are celebrated as part of the mythological narrative that leads to the birth of a hero. Danaë's importance in mythology is mainly tied to her role as Perseus's mother and the subject of Acrisius's prophecy, overshadowing her own struggles.

Zeus may be the King of the Gods, but when it comes to his treatment of women, he’s still just a man—one who uses his position to manipulate and disregard consent. In many ways, his actions mirror those still seen today, where those with power often escape consequences, while the burden falls on those they abuse. Some things, it seems, never change. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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POSEIDON: REIGNING SEAS, REIGNING MISDEEDS

[Painting by John Singleton Copley]

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POSEIDON: REIGNING SEAS, REIGNING MISDEEDS

Poseidon, the god of the sea, is one of the most powerful and unpredictable figures in Greek mythology. With dominion over oceans, storms, and earthquakes, he’s often making waves—literally and figuratively—in myths packed with drama and chaos. As the brother of Zeus, the King of Gods, Poseidon might not have a wife to betray, but let’s just say he still managed to keep the family reputation intact. Whether it’s chasing after nymphs, terrorizing mortals, or leaving a trail of unintended consequences in his wake, Poseidon proves that in the Olympian family tree, dysfunction runs deep. If Zeus set the standard for unchecked impulses, Poseidon was more than happy to rise—or dive—to the occasion.

1. Tyro

Tyro was a mortal princess, the daughter of King Salmoneus, and renowned for her beauty. She was deeply in love with the river god Enipeus, but her love was unrequited. Poseidon, however, was captivated by Tyro. Knowing her affection for Enipeus, Poseidon disguised himself as the river god to approach her. Deceived by his appearance, Tyro lay with him. From their union, Tyro bore twin sons: Pelias and Neleus, who would go on to play significant roles in Greek mythology. 

The story of Tyro and Poseidon is yet another showcase of patriarchal mythology at its finest, where divine power is just a convenient excuse for unchecked male entitlement. Poseidon, instead of respecting Tyro’s autonomy, decides to exploit her unreciprocated love for Enipeus by disguising himself as the river god. Because, of course, when you’re a male deity, deceit is a perfectly acceptable method to get what you want.

Naturally, Poseidon faces no repercussions—no divine reprimand, no cosmic accountability, not even so much as a disapproving glance from Mount Olympus. Instead, the narrative shifts to Tyro’s twin sons, Pelias and Neleus, as though their achievements somehow validate the means of their conception. Meanwhile, Tyro is left in the background, her experience diminished to serve the larger myth. It’s a sharp reminder that in these stories, male power is celebrated, and women’s struggles are just inconvenient details brushed aside in favor of the "greater" narrative.

2. Medusa

Medusa's assault by Poseidon is one of the more distressing and controversial elements of her myth, and it sheds light on the brutal dynamics between gods and mortals in Greek mythology. Medusa was a beautiful mortal woman, renowned for her stunning beauty, and she served as a priestess in Athena's temple, which required her to remain chaste. Poseidon became infatuated with her. His desire for her led to a violent encounter. Poseidon forcibly assaulted Medusa within the sacred space of Athena's temple. The temple, dedicated to the virgin goddess Athena, was meant to be a place of purity and sanctity. The violation of the temple by Poseidon was a direct assault not only on Medusa but also on the sanctity of Athena’s domain. The assault itself is described as an act of power and dominance, where Medusa was unable to resist Poseidon's advances. Her chastity, a key part of her service to Athena, was completely disregarded in the face of Poseidon's divine strength. 

Athena’s reaction to the assault is both complex and protective. Rather than punishing Medusa for something that was not her fault, Athena transforms her into a Gorgon—not as a form of retribution, but as a way to safeguard her. By turning Medusa’s hair into serpents and her gaze into something deadly, Athena ensures that no man could ever approach Medusa again without facing dire consequences.

Poseidon's actions in this myth are a textbook example of divine entitlement. As a god, he’s free to act without consequence, indulging his desires with no regard for Medusa’s autonomy. The assault goes unpunished, while Medusa is left to deal with the fallout. This highlights the uncomfortable reality of how patriarchy operates—powerful men, whether mortal or divine, get away with whatever they wish, while women are left to bear the consequences.

3. Demeter

Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, agriculture, fertility, and the protector of the earth's bounty. She plays a central role in maintaining the natural order of the seasons, symbolizing life, growth, and the cyclical nature of time. While Demeter’s influence on the earth is one of nurturing, she, too, is not immune to the darker aspects of the gods’ behavior, especially Poseidon’s relentless pursuit. 

In one of the lesser-known myths, Poseidon, as was his nature, became infatuated with Demeter. He sought her out, but she was not interested in his advances. Uninterested and possibly disturbed by his behavior, she tried to avoid him, but Poseidon would not relent. Demeter, desperate to escape, transformed herself into a mare. This transformation was her attempt to flee from Poseidon’s advances, but Poseidon, as stubborn as ever, transformed into a stallion to pursue her. Despite her transformation, she could not escape, and the two gods eventually mated. From this union, Demeter gave birth to Despoina, a goddess associated with the mysteries of the earth, and a son named Arion, a divine, immortal horse. Despoina’s birth was a secret, and Demeter requested that no one reveal her identity or honor her as a goddess, possibly to avoid any shame or complications from this unwanted union.

Despite Demeter’s immense power and status, it’s clear that even a goddess isn’t safe from the overbearing desires of male gods like Poseidon. She could command the earth’s harvest, control the seasons, and bring life to the land, yet none of that protected her from being overpowered. This speaks volumes about the patriarchal structure in Greek mythology: no matter how mighty a woman is, her body remains fair game for male gods. The myth serves as a reminder that in a system where power is inherently male, women—divine or mortal—are always at risk of having their autonomy stripped away, no matter how untouchable they may seem.

Poseidon’s myths may be soaked in saltwater, but they’re drenched in entitlement—a stark reminder that in a world ruled by unchecked power, even goddesses aren’t safe from being reduced to trophies of male conquest. It’s not just a tale of the sea; it’s a tidal wave of patriarchy, crashing through every level of Olympus. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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APOLLO: LAUREL-ED IN REJECTION

[Painting by Nicolas Régnier]

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APOLLO: LAUREL-ED IN REJECTION

Apollo, the golden boy of Olympus, is often celebrated for his talents in music, prophecy, and healing. His relentless pursuits, punishments for rejection, and misuse of divine power paint a picture of a god who refuses to accept "no" for an answer. Whether through manipulation, curses, or outright violence, Apollo’s actions echo a pattern where power becomes a tool for control, leaving his victims to bear the brunt of his desires. It's a stark reminder that divine status doesn’t absolve toxic behavior—it only amplifies its reach.

1. Daphne

Daphne was a beautiful nymph, daughter of the river god Peneus, and a devoted follower of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and chastity. As a devotee of Artemis, Daphne swore off the company of men and embraced a life dedicated to independence, untouched by romantic or sexual desires.

The story of Daphne and Apollo is often dressed up as some tragic tale of unrequited love; there's nothing romantic about a woman being dragged into a god’s obsessive whims because of a petty argument. Apollo mocked Eros, The God of Love, claiming his powers in love were greater. In revenge, Eros shot Apollo with a golden arrow, making him fall madly in love with Daphne, a nymph. He then shot Daphne with a lead arrow, causing her to feel repelled by Apollo. Apollo, consumed by his newfound love for Daphne, chased her relentlessly through the forest. Despite his divine speed and strength, Daphne fled with all her might, desperate to avoid him. As the pursuit continued and Apollo closed in on her, Daphne called upon her father, the river god Peneus, to save her from Apollo’s advances. In response, Peneus transformed Daphne into a laurel tree, her body turning into roots, branches, and leaves. When Apollo reached Daphne, he was heartbroken to find that she had been transformed into a tree. However, his love for her did not waver. He declared the laurel tree sacred and vowed that its leaves would symbolize eternal love and honor. From that moment on, Apollo wore a crown of laurel leaves, a reminder of Daphne. 

Apollo’s infatuation with Daphne is driven less by love and more by a desire to conquer her, reflecting a patriarchal, possessive view of relationships. Daphne rejects him, defying the expectation that women should passively accept male attention. Her desire for independence contrasts sharply with Apollo’s belief that he has the right to claim her love. The intervention of her father, Peneus, who transforms her into a laurel tree, symbolizes Daphne’s escape from male control. However, this transformation also limits her agency, reducing her to an object—an eternal symbol of Apollo’s unrequited love. Apollo, instead of respecting her wishes, appropriates her transformation to glorify his own affection, further objectifying her.

2. Cassandra

Cassandra, a Trojan princess, is one of the most tragic figures in Greek mythology, best known for her gift of prophecy and the curse that rendered her warnings unheeded. Daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of Troy, Cassandra was renowned for her beauty and wisdom. 

Cassandra, a beautiful Trojan princess, was initially a devoted follower of Apollo, the god of prophecy. She revered him and, in return, Apollo granted her the gift of prophecy, offering her the ability to foresee the future. However, as the story goes, Apollo fell deeply in love with her and, desiring her affection, asked for her love in exchange for the gift. Cassandra, though honored by his gift, rejected his romantic advances, remaining loyal to her own wishes rather than yielding to Apollo’s desires. In response to her rejection, Apollo, unable to bear the snub, cursed her. Though she retained the ability to prophecy, he ensured that no one would ever believe her predictions. Cassandra’s once-precious gift became a cruel burden: she could foresee the future with perfect clarity but was powerless to stop the tragedies she predicted, as her warnings went ignored. This curse marked the beginning of her tragic fate, where her true wisdom would be dismissed, leading to the fall of Troy and countless other disasters, all foretold but never heeded.

Cassandra’s fate reflects the intersection of patriarchal power and the silencing of women. Despite knowing the future, her prophecies are ignored, symbolizing how women’s wisdom and knowledge are often disregarded in patriarchal societies, especially when they challenge the status quo. Her tragedy highlights the powerlessness women face when their voices are silenced and their insights dismissed.

Apollo’s obsession with Daphne and Cassandra isn’t some poetic tale of unrequited love—it’s a masterclass in toxic masculinity. Whether it’s chasing Daphne through the woods like a petulant child or cursing Cassandra for daring to reject him, Apollo’s divine “love” is nothing more than a power trip. These myths aren’t about gods and their romantic woes—they’re about women being forced into silence, control, and objectification. Apollo may have had the power of prophecy and music, but it’s his actions that are truly out of tune. In the end, these stories aren’t just tragic—they’re a blunt reminder that divine status doesn’t erase toxic behavior; it just makes it more dangerous. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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AGAMEMNON: THE KING WHO TRIPPED ON HIS OWN EGO

[Painting by Jacques Louis David]

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AGAMEMNON: THE KING WHO TRIPPED ON HIS OWN EGO

Agamemnon, the son of King Atreus, was born into the cursed House of Atreus, a family plagued by a history of horrific vengeance and betrayal. Atreus’s gruesome act of killing his brother Thyestes’ sons and serving them to him as a meal set a dark precedent for future generations. This curse, which followed the family through multiple generations, twisted Agamemnon’s fate. His brother Menelaus became the king of Sparta and married Helen, whose abduction by Paris sparked the Trojan War. Eager for glory, Agamemnon led the Greek forces, yet his arrogance and poor judgment—such as the sacrificial killing of his daughter Iphigenia—ultimately led to his tragic end. His story is a chilling reminder of how the sins of his forefathers, tied to the family's cursed lineage, doomed him to a legacy of violence, betrayal, and destructive ambition.

1. Iphigenia

Agamemnon’s betrayal of his daughter, Iphigenia, stands as one of the most chilling examples of how patriarchy uses women as disposable pawns for male ambition. Iphigenia’s sacrifice was demanded by Artemis, who was angered when Agamemnon killed a sacred deer, causing her to stop the winds needed for the Greek fleet to sail to Troy. The seer Calchas declared that in order to appease the goddess and restore the winds, Agamemnon had to sacrifice his daughter. Though Agamemnon was reluctant, he ultimately chose to prioritize the success of the Greek army and the war effort over his own daughter’s life. To deceive his wife, Clytemnestra, Agamemnon concocted a story that Iphigenia was to marry the great hero Achilles. He sent for her, telling Clytemnestra that the marriage would ensure their daughter’s happiness and future glory. Clytemnestra sent Iphigenia to Aulis without question, unaware of the horrific truth awaiting her daughter. When Iphigenia arrived at the Greek camp, she was greeted with a shocking revelation. Instead of a wedding celebration, she found herself on an altar, bound for sacrifice. She pleads with her father to spare her, but Agamemnon remains resolute in his decision. With the ceremony complete, the winds returned, and the Greeks were able to sail to Troy. But the price of Iphigenia’s death was high—Agamemnon’s act of betrayal would echo through his family, setting in motion a cycle of vengeance that would eventually lead to his own downfall. Clytemnestra, enraged by her husband’s actions, would later murder Agamemnon in revenge, marking the tragic end of the house of Atreus.

Agamemnon's choice to sacrifice Iphigenia perfectly demonstrates how, in a patriarchal system, women were viewed as little more than pawns in the game of male ambition. Her life is traded away for the sake of his war effort, highlighting the inconvenient truth that women’s autonomy, desires, and dignity are often sidelined for the “greater good” of male glory. Iphigenia’s tragic end serves as a reminder that in the eyes of patriarchy, women are expected to serve, suffer, and be sacrificed—whatever it takes to prop up the ambitions of the men around them.

2. Chryseis

Chryseis, the daughter of the priest Chryses, was captured by the Greeks during their raid on Troy and given to Agamemnon as a war prize. After the Greek forces captured her, Agamemnon claimed her for himself, disregarding the wishes of her father, who begged for her return. Chryses offered a rich ransom for his daughter’s release, but Agamemnon, in his typical display of arrogance, refused to even entertain the idea. His desire to assert his dominance and control over Chryseis, combined with a smug belief in his untouchable position, led him to ignore the most basic principles of honor and respect. This arrogance, however, came with devastating consequences. Apollo, angered by Agamemnon’s refusal, sent a plague to ravage the Greek army. The soldiers were struck down one after another, their suffering a direct result of Agamemnon’s refusal to respect the wishes of a god. The plague not only devastated the Greeks but also set their progress back, making it clear that Agamemnon’s personal pride endangered the very cause he was trying to fight for. When the situation became unbearable, Agamemnon finally agreed to release Chryseis, but only after the suffering of his men and the pressure of the plague had forced his hand.

This episode starkly highlights the destructive nature of unchecked pride and the patriarchal sense of entitlement. Agamemnon's inability to relinquish control, to admit that he might be wrong, or to show humility led to unnecessary death and suffering. His decision to hold onto Chryseis until the very last moment reveals how his arrogance endangered not only his own army but also the lives of those around him—all to assert his dominance over a woman he viewed as little more than a possession. What’s more disturbing is the fact that she was likely around the same age as his daughter Iphigenia, yet Agamemnon saw fit to claim her as a possession and use her as a "bed slave" without concern for her choice in the matter.

3. Briseis

Briseis was a captive woman taken by the Greeks during the war against Troy. She was a Trojan war prize, a symbol of Achilles’ valor and his contribution to the war effort. In the aftermath of a successful raid, she was awarded to Achilles as a mark of honor for his skill and bravery on the battlefield. For Achilles, Briseis was more than just a war trophy—she represented respect and recognition, a reflection of his status as the Greek hero. 

When the priest Chryses came to the Greek camp, seeking the return of his daughter, Chryseis, along with a ransom, it was Agamemnon’s pride that led him to dismiss the request and insult the priest. The plague sent by Apollo was a clear consequence of Agamemnon’s refusal, and it was Achilles, recognizing the impact on the army, who insisted that Chryseis be returned to lift the curse. His intervention forced Agamemnon to relent, even though it was done reluctantly. However, Agamemnon’s pride was deeply wounded by the situation, and rather than accepting Achilles’ moral argument, he retaliated by taking Briseis, Achilles’ prize, as a way to reassert his dominance. This action wasn’t simply about Agamemnon needing Briseis—it was a deliberate power play. By seizing her from Achilles, Agamemnon sought to reassert control over a warrior who had exposed his arrogance. This act of petty revenge pushed Achilles to the breaking point, leading him to withdraw from the war in protest. His absence crippled the Greek forces, and the Greeks began to suffer. Agamemnon’s inability to swallow his pride and handle the situation with any level of humility ultimately cost him the support of his greatest warrior, showing how his ego jeopardized the entire war effort.

Agamemnon and Achilles both offer prime examples of how the patriarchy can inflate egos to the point of ruining everything. Agamemnon, in his infinite wisdom, decides that his pride is more important than the survival of his army, refusing to return Chryseis despite the plague that’s wiping out his troops. Of course, his patriarchal entitlement blinds him to the bigger picture, focusing instead on maintaining his fragile sense of authority. Achilles, not to be outdone, responds by pulling his support from the war to prove that his honor matters more than the Greek cause. His need to assert dominance and maintain his position as the greatest warrior is wrapped up in a system that values male strength and pride above all else. Together, they sabotage their own army, showing just how damaging unchecked masculinity and the need for control can be when left unchecked.

Agamemnon’s legacy is a shining example of how unchecked arrogance and an inflated sense of entitlement can lead not only to personal disaster but to the downfall of entire armies—because, after all, when your ego is bigger than your army and your moral compass is as faulty as your decision-making, you’re bound to lose all—along with a few daughters and war prizes along the way. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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JASON: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN [Painting by Erasmus Quellinus, 1636-1638]

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JASON: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN

Jason, the son of Aeson and the rightful king of Iolcus, was exiled by his uncle Pelias, who had seized the throne. Fearing that any surviving relatives of Aeson might one day challenge his rule, Pelias sought to eliminate them all. However, Aeson managed to secretly send his newborn son, Jason, to the wise centaur Chiron, who raised and trained him in the art of leadership, combat, and wisdom.

Still living in constant fear that his stolen kingdom would be taken from him, Pelias consulted the Oracle of Delphi. The prophecy warned him to beware of "a man with one sandal." Years later, when Pelias hosted grand games in Iolcus, Jason traveled there to reclaim his rightful throne. On his way, he encountered an old woman struggling to cross a river. Unbeknownst to him, this was the goddess Hera in disguise, testing his kindness. Jason carried her across, but in the process, he lost one of his sandals.

When Jason arrived at the games wearing only one sandal, Pelias immediately recognized the prophecy unfolding before him. Fearing Jason’s claim to the throne, he devised a seemingly impossible challenge—a quest to retrieve the legendary Golden Fleece. He promised Jason that, should he succeed, the throne would be his. However, in truth, Pelias never intended to step down, sending Jason on what he believed to be a doomed journey.

MEDEA

Medea was a powerful sorceress, the daughter of King Aeetes of Colchis, and granddaughter of the sun god Helios.

Jason met Medea during his quest for the Golden Fleece, which was guarded by her father, King Aeetes of Colchis. Medea, deeply in love and swayed by Jason’s promises of marriage, chose to betray her own family to help him succeed. She used her magic to protect him from the fire-breathing bulls, armed warriors, and even the dragon that guarded the Fleece. 

When her father discovered her betrayal, Medea helped Jason and the Argonauts (Jason’s crew) escape. In a desperate attempt to slow their pursuers, she killed her own brother and scattered his remains at sea. Her sacrifice ensured Jason’s survival, but it also severed her ties to home forever.

The couple eventually arrived in Iolcus, where Jason sought to reclaim his throne from King Pelias. Once again, Medea played a key role. She tricked Pelias’ daughters into believing they could restore their father’s youth, only for the plan to end in his death. Though she had secured Jason’s revenge, the act turned public opinion against them, leading to their exile.

Seeking refuge in Corinth, Jason and Medea built a life together, raising their children. But Jason’s ambitions soon took precedence over his loyalty. He abandoned Medea to marry Glauce, the daughter of King Creon, securing a politically advantageous alliance. For Medea, who had given up everything for him, the betrayal was devastating.

By choosing the throne over his wife and children, he prioritized political ambition over the family Medea had sacrificed everything for. When Medea retaliated, Jason skillfully manipulated the narrative to cast himself as the victim and Medea as the villain. As a foreign woman and a sorceress, Medea was already viewed with suspicion in Greek society, making it easy for Jason to frame her as dangerous and unhinged. 

He gaslighted her, dismissing her sacrifices and justifying his actions as necessary for his future, portraying her as an irrational, vengeful woman instead of a betrayed wife. His actions reinforced the societal biases that saw non-Greek women as outsiders and witches as threats, ensuring that Medea, rather than his own deceit and ambition, bore the blame for the tragedy that unfolded.

Jason’s betrayal of Medea, is a stark reflection of the patriarchal values that dominated ancient Greek society. Jason’s pursuit of power and political advantage over his loyalty to Medea highlights the way in which men often valued personal gain over emotional or moral bonds. Despite Medea’s immense sacrifices, Jason’s actions reveal how easily men could discard women once their usefulness or appeal was no longer aligned with their ambitions.

Medea, in this context, is not just a wronged lover; she is a victim of a system that repeatedly undermines women, reducing them to tools for men’s success or means of securing their positions. Jason’s decision to marry Glauce is a reflection of the societal norm that women were seen as objects to be traded, with their worth often tied to their connections, beauty, and the benefits they could bring to men’s political or social standings. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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MEDEA: THE WRATH OF A SCORNED WOMAN

[Painting by Frederick Sandys in 1868]

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MEDEA: THE WRATH OF A SCORNED WOMAN

Born into royalty as the princess of Colchis, Medea was no ordinary woman. She possessed power, wisdom, and an unmatched command over magic. She could have lived a life of privilege and influence, ruling beside her father. But fate had other plans—or rather, a certain Greek hero did. Enter Jason, the man on a quest for the Golden Fleece, who, through charm and grand promises, convinced Medea to forsake everything for him. And so she did.

What is Love without a Trail of Blood?

Blinded by love, Medea turned against her own family, helping Jason overcome impossible challenges. She did not stop at simple assistance—she went all in. She betrayed her father, abandoned her homeland, and even played a key role in the gruesome murder of her own brother, Apsyrtus. As Jason and Medea fled Colchis, her brother pursued them, determined to bring her back. To ensure their escape, Medea went further—she dismembered Apsyrtus' body which Jason had struck down and scattered his remains into the sea, forcing her father to halt his pursuit to collect his son's remains for burial. She had ensured Jason's victory, but she had also sealed her own fate as an exile, a fugitive, and a woman who had forsaken her own blood.

The Price of Revenge

With the Golden Fleece secured, the couple fled to Iolcus, where Jason set his sights on reclaiming the throne wrongfully denied to him by King Pelias. Ever the devoted and dangerously clever wife, Medea orchestrated a plan. She convinced Pelias' daughters that she could restore their father’s youth with a simple ritual. Demonstrating with a ram, she cut the animal into pieces and boiled it in a cauldron, only for a young lamb to emerge, seemingly reborn. The daughters, eager to restore their aging father, followed her instructions and hacked Pelias into pieces, expecting a miraculous resurrection. Instead, Pelias met a very permanent end. While Jason obtained his revenge, the stunt turned public opinion against them, forcing the couple into exile once again. Medea had given Jason his justice, but at what cost? She had become infamous, a woman whose power and cunning made her a figure of fear rather than admiration.

The Sting of Betrayal

Banished from Iolcus, the couple sought refuge in Corinth. There, they built a new life, and Medea bore Jason children, believing that at last, they could find peace. For years, she remained devoted, raising their children and ensuring Jason’s ambitions did not wane. But Jason, ever the opportunist, soon saw a way to elevate his status—one that did not involve the woman who had sacrificed everything for him. He abandoned Medea, choosing instead to marry Glauce, the daughter of King Creon. It was a calculated political move, one that secured him power but cost Medea everything. She had left behind her home, her family, and even her very soul for him, only to be discarded the moment she was no longer useful. Jason, in his arrogance, justified his actions with hollow reasoning, claiming it was for the best—for their children, for stability, for power. He even dismissed Medea further, citing her foreign origins, reminding her that she was not Greek and therefore not truly suitable for him. He expected her to accept her fate and step aside without protest. He had gravely miscalculated.

The Wrath of a Woman 

Jason may have underestimated just how much damage a furious sorceress with nothing left to lose could inflict. Medea did not weep in a corner, nor did she accept her fate quietly. Instead, she set out to ensure that Jason’s betrayal would cost him dearly.

First, she sent Glauce a gift—a beautiful robe, laced with poison. The moment the unsuspecting bride put it on, her flesh burned away in an agonizing inferno, the fabric fusing to her skin as the flames consumed her. Her father, Creon, in his desperate attempt to save her, was also engulfed in the blaze, perishing alongside his daughter. Corinth was thrown into chaos, but Medea was not yet finished.

In an act of vengeance so unspeakable it would echo through history, she turned her wrath on her own children. Whether to punish Jason or to spare them from the life of exile and scorn that awaited them without her protection, Medea made the unthinkable decision—she killed them with her own hands. Jason’s legacy, his future, his bloodline—all were obliterated in one final, devastating blow. Then, as Jason arrived too late to stop her, Medea did what no other mortal could—she escaped, carried away by a chariot sent by her grandfather, the sun god Helios. She vanished into the sky, leaving Jason to face the ashes of everything he had once valued.

More Than Just Revenge

While history remembers Medea as a vengeful, unhinged murderer, her actions were more than mere spite. She was a woman who had given everything and was discarded the moment she was inconvenient. In a world where women were expected to be silent, self-sacrificing, and easily replaced, Medea refused. She did not let herself be reduced to a stepping stone for a man’s ambitions. Instead, she ensured that Jason would pay the ultimate price for underestimating her. Her story is not just one of vengeance—it is one of reclamation. Medea did what many women in history have only dreamed of: she refused to be forgotten. 

Yet, in her unrelenting defiance, Medea carried out acts so horrific that even the gods turned away. Killing Glauce and Creon was brutal, but it was the slaughter of her own children—the very ones she had once nursed and cherished—that forever defined her as both a victim and a villain. Her fury burned brighter than the flames that consumed her rival, her vengeance absolute, but the price was beyond reckoning. In reclaiming her agency, she did not just defy the world that had wronged her—she obliterated any notion of innocence in her path. Medea was no mere scorned woman; she was a force of destruction, proving that when stripped of everything, a woman could wield ruin as fiercely as any man. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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PENELOPE: QUEEN OF STRATEGIZING

[Painting by Louis Jean François Lagrenée in 1772]

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PENELOPE: QUEEN OF STRATEGIZING

Penelope, best known as the faithful wife of Odysseus, is often reduced to the image of a patient, passive woman waiting for her husband’s return. But there is far more to her story. In a world where women were expected to be silent and obedient, Penelope wields intelligence, resilience, and quiet defiance to carve out a space for herself in a narrative dominated by men.

Shrouded Trickery

When Odysseus leaves for Troy, Penelope is left alone in Ithaca with their infant son, Telemachus. For twenty years, she rules in her husband’s absence while fending off relentless suitors who believe Odysseus is dead and that she must remarry. Ancient Greek society did not allow queens to rule in their own right, so Penelope’s power is constantly under threat. She has no armies, no divine protection, and no way to openly refuse the suitors without risking her son’s life. Yet, she resists.

One of Penelope’s most famous acts was her weaving deception. When her suitors pressured her to remarry, she promised to choose a husband once she finished weaving a funeral shroud for her father-in-law, Laertes. However, each night, she secretly unraveled her work so that it would never be completed. This gave her three years of delay, allowing her to remain unmarried without directly defying the men who sought to control her. It was an act of quiet defiance, proving that intelligence and patience could be as powerful as brute force.

At each other's' throats

When her shroud trick was exposed after three years, Penelope was forced to appear more cooperative. However, she continued to delay by making new excuses, such as needing time to prepare or waiting for an auspicious sign from the gods. Rather than favoring one suitor over the others, Penelope deliberately avoided making a choice, stringing them along with vague promises and gestures. She flattered some, ignored others, and never gave anyone a clear advantage, ensuring that the suitors remained in conflict rather than uniting against her. She sometimes appeared in mourning for Odysseus, reinforcing the idea that she was still grieving and not ready to remarry. Other times, she would present herself beautifully dressed, subtly suggesting that she was open to suitors—only to retreat again. This back-and-forth kept them guessing.

When she could no longer delay, she announced the infamous bow contest—a challenge that only Odysseus himself could win. This was her final, boldest gamble to prevent being forced into a marriage. By setting impossible conditions, she ensured that her fate remained in her own hands. If Odysseus had not returned, she still had a measure of control over who won, since none of the suitors could string the bow. 

When trickery meets wits

When Odysseus finally returned to Ithaca after 20 years, he arrived in disguise—a beggar, ragged and unrecognizable. Unlike Telemachus and the servants, who quickly accepted him once he revealed his identity, Penelope remained cautious. She had spent two decades surrounded by deception and manipulation, and she refused to be fooled by an imposter. Instead of rushing into an emotional reunion, she tested him.

Even before directly testing him, Penelope watched Odysseus closely. His mannerisms, speech, and strategic thinking all reminded her of the husband she had lost. However, she still did not fully trust the situation.

To confirm his identity, Penelope devised an ingenious test. She ordered a servant to move Odysseus’ bed into another room—something she knew was impossible. Their bed was no ordinary piece of furniture—it had been carved from a living olive tree, with its roots still in the ground. Only Odysseus himself had built it, and only he would know that it could not be moved. When Odysseus heard this, he reacted with outrage, passionately explaining how he had crafted the bed himself and why it was immovable. At that moment, Penelope knew the truth—this was her husband. No imposter could have known this deeply personal secret.

Penelope’s test was more than just a clever trick—it showed that she and Odysseus were equals. Just as Odysseus was known for his cunning, Penelope proved she was just as sharp. Their reunion was not just about love—it was about two brilliant minds recognizing each other after decades apart.

Penelope’s feminism lies in her quiet but unwavering resistance. Unlike the warrior goddesses or vengeful queens of mythology, she does not wield a sword or defy the gods outright—she fights with intelligence, patience, and strategy. In a world where women had little agency, she finds ways to exert control: outsmarting the suitors, ruling Ithaca in Odysseus’ absence, and dictating the terms of her own fate. She refuses to be reduced to a prize, manipulates those who try to control her, and even tests Odysseus to ensure he is truly the man she once knew. Penelope’s strength is not in rebellion, but in endurance and intellect—a reminder that power comes in many forms, and that waiting is not the same as weakness. [Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]

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CIRCE: THE OG FEMINIST

[Painting by Wright Baker in 1889]

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CIRCE: THE OG FEMINIST

Circe, the daughter of the sun god Helios and the nymph Perse, wasn’t born powerful. In fact, she started off as an outcast—mocked by gods and overlooked by mortals—until she discovered her gift for witchcraft. That changed everything. Her journey is one of self-discovery, transformation, and ultimately, independence. And when you look at her story through a feminist lens, she stands out as one of mythology’s rare female figures who not only survives in a world ruled by men but thrives on her own terms.

Men are Pigs metaphorically and literally

Circe’s most famous act—turning Odysseus’ men into pigs—has often been told as the tale of a cruel sorceress preying on helpless men. In many versions of the story, Circe is confronted by aggressive, entitled men who assume they can take whatever they want from her, including her body. Her magic isn’t an act of random cruelty—it’s self-defense. 

The transformation of Odysseus’ men into pigs is symbolic. They arrive on her island expecting an easy conquest—food, drink, and a compliant woman. Circe plays along at first, welcoming them into her home, feeding them, giving them wine. But the moment they let their guard down, she flips the script. With a wave of her hand, she reveals their true nature—turning them into the very animals they acted like. When Odysseus arrives, she doesn’t immediately turn him into a pig. Instead, she tests him. Unlike his crew, Odysseus is cunning and cautious. He resists her magic, thanks to Hermes’ help, but instead of trying to dominate her, he negotiates with her. This shifts the dynamic between them—rather than enemies, they become equals, and Circe welcomes him as a guest and later as a lover. 

Circe doesn’t hate men—she simply refuses to submit to the ones who see her as prey. She punishes those who try to take advantage of her, but she respects those who treat her as an equal. This complexity is what makes her such a fascinating feminist figure. She’s a woman who decides who has access to her world and on what terms.

A mother’s love knows no bounds

Motherhood in Greek mythology is rarely a story of independence. Most mothers are either forced into their roles, suffer because of them, or exist solely as passive figures in the background. But Circe is different. She chooses to be a mother, raises her son alone, and fiercely protects him—even when it means defying the gods themselves.

Circe’s son, Telegonus, is born from her brief affair with Odysseus. She raises Telegonus alone on her island, Aeaea, where they live in isolation. This in itself is radical. Greek mythology glorifies patriarchal family structures, where a child’s legitimacy and fate are tied to their father’s status. But Circe does not seek approval or assistance from Odysseus. She refuses to let Telegonus be a pawn in any man’s legacy, choosing instead to be both mother and protector.

One of Circe’s most defining moments as a mother is when Athena demands Telegonus’ life, seeing him as a threat to Odysseus’ legacy. Circe refuses, standing her ground against one of the most powerful Olympians. She does not beg or submit—she simply denies the gods control over her son’s fate. Unlike many mythological women, she is not powerless. Instead, she uses her magic, intellect, and determination to ensure his survival.

Why Circe matters today

Circe’s story remains deeply relevant because it mirrors struggles that women have faced for centuries—being underestimated, dismissed, and controlled by societal expectations. In a world where women were often defined by their relationships to men, Circe breaks the mold. She does not let others dictate her identity, nor does she conform to the roles expected of her. Instead, she chooses self-discovery, power, and independence. 

Her story also challenges the idea that women must fit into predetermined roles—maiden, mother, or villain. Circe is all of these at different points in her life, yet she is never confined by them. She embraces her power as a witch without becoming a monster, loves without losing herself, and becomes a mother without sacrificing her autonomy.

Her acts are more than just punishment; it’s a statement. Circe is demonstrating that she will not be another woman for men to use and discard. Instead of allowing herself to be overpowered, she takes control of the situation in a way that few women in mythology ever get to. Circe, unlike so many other women in Greek mythology who are kidnapped, assaulted, or used as pawns, refuses to be a victim. Instead, she takes control of the situation, showing that she won’t be dominated. Her magic becomes a weapon against the power imbalance that has harmed countless mythological women before her.

Circe reminds us that power does not have to come from brute strength or divine favor—it can come from knowledge, resilience, and the courage to carve out one’s own destiny. She does not seek approval, nor does she wait for permission. She builds her own world, protects what is hers, and when the time comes, she even chooses mortality over eternal existence, proving that true power lies in living life on one’s own terms.

In ancient myths, women were rarely allowed to shape their own identities. Circe does. And that makes her one of mythology’s most revolutionary figures—not just a sorceress, but a symbol of female empowerment.

[Credits: "Let's talk about Myths, Baby!" Podcast by Liv Albert]