Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, was the second goddess I came to worship. My devotion has waxed and waned over the years as I’ve grappled with her feminist and misogynist images, but I’ve embraced Athena this month and re-established my dedication.
Greek mythology, my gateway to Paganism
By the time I was ten years old, I’d left the Roman Catholic Church. As a rebellious tween feminist, Artemis was the first goddess I became fascinated with. I loved the lunar maiden who swore never to marry and wore a short tunic so she could better run in the forest with her girlfriends, who demanded independence and freedom for herself, protected children, and whose temple was attended by girls. But as I grew older, another goddess caught my attention.
Athena, goddess of women's academia
As a young university student, I became drawn to Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, handicrafts, war, and patron and protectress of various cities across Greece, particularly Athens. Like Artemis, Athena remained unmarried, but she wasn’t wild like Artemis. Athena is a palace goddess, closely associated with the city and civil institutions, and she exemplifies intellect, institutions, skill, strategy, and power.
Athena is an intriguing figure for exploring gender norms. As a young feminist, Athena offered me a multifaceted alternative to the Madonna/Whore dichotomy in our popular culture, the hyper-feminine, and a goddess about something other than love, sex, marriage, and fertility. Athena seemed like a cerebral goddess, and that resonated with me.
It doesn’t surprise me that Athena is the patron goddess of Bryn Mawr, a women’s liberal arts college in Pennsylvania. Her statue is in the Thomas Great Hall, an academic building, and students make offerings to Athena for wisdom and strength. Athena is a popular symbol for promoting female participation in traditionally male fields such as science, technology, engineering, mathematics (STEM), and the arts. Unironically, Athena is also the patron goddess of Phi Delta Theta, a secret fraternity known for all the things fraternities are known for: opening doors for men, notable alumni, excluding women, hazing, alcohol and drug abuse, sexual assault, and rape.
Bryn Mawr and Phi Delta Theta show us the two Athenas. There is Athena, the empowering figure who embodies female power within patriarchy and Athena, the strong woman who uses her power to advance men and uphold the patriarchy. This latter Athena is not easy to dismiss and has been challenging to grapple with.
Athena, goddess of patriarchal Ancient Greece
Classical mythology depicts Athena as a vain, hot-tempered, right-hand woman of the patriarchy. She is strongly male-identified, assisting male heroes, and generally unconcerned with women or mistreating them. When I think of this Athena, women like Phyllis Schlafly and Margaret Thatcher come to mind, women who sided with men at the expense of other women, strong women who, rather than paving the way for other women to succeed, ensured they remained the exception.
Famous myths include Athena’s role in the Judgement of Paris and the Trojan War and her concern with the male heroes in the Iliad and Odyssey. Punishment myths include her transformation of Medusa after Poseidon raped her in Athena’s temple and the fable of Arachne. Her vanity trumps her wisdom in the story of how she cursed and threw away the aulos, which she is sometimes said to have invented, because blowing into the flute to play it made her cheeks puff out, and she didn’t like how that looked. However, the story that struck me the most and has stayed with me is Athena’s role in the trial of Orestes.
The trial of Orestes
The House of Atreus was cursed. As usual, it began with insulting the gods, and the cycle of murder, incest, deceit, and revenge continued for generations through the family line until it ended with Orestes.
The Oresteia is a trilogy of Greek tragedies by Aeschylus that tells us what happened after King Agamemnon of the House of Atreus returned home to Argos after Trojan War. It had been ten years, and his wife Clytemnestra began an affair during this period of Agamemnon’s absence. With her lover, Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon.
The Oresteia doesn’t cover Clytemnestra’s background, but it’s worth mentioning that she was Agamemnon’s second wife. He killed her first husband and infant son before taking Clytemnestra as his wife and later sacrificed their daughter Iphigenia.
Years later, Orestes, the son of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, returns home to exact vengeance. On order from Apollo, Orestes hesitantly kills Clytemnestra. He then becomes the target of the Erinyes (Furies), chthonic goddesses of vengeance, who hunt and torment Orestes for the crime of matricide. Orestes pleads to Athena for help, and she sets up a trial of 12 Athenian citizens.
Apollo defends him with a long string of dubious arguments, including that a woman’s life is intrinsically of less value than a man’s and that a mother is not a true parent but only a receptacle. When the votes were tied, Athena cast the deciding vote.
My work is here, to render the final judgement.
Orestes, I will cast my lot for you.
No mother gave me birth.
I honour the male, in all things but marriage.
Yes, with all my heart I am my Father’s child.
I cannot set more store by the woman’s death –
she killed her husband, guardian of their house.
Even if the vote is equal, Orestes wins.
The Furies do not like this decision, but with bribes and veiled threats, Athena persuades them to accept it, become protectors of Athens, of justice instead of vengeance, and renames them the Eumenides, the Gracious Ones. Athena also rules that all trials be settled in court. The trial of Orestes ends the curse on the House of Atreus, the cycle of murder and revenge, and represents the evolution of justice.
"No mother gave me birth"
The subordination of women to men was essential to the law of property which was the basis of Athenian society. Aeschylus, a male Athenian writer, was affirming the status quo. I wonder if he and other male writers grappled with the opposite question: Why is a goddess the city’s patron if women are inferior? Why was she so important and, according to her epithets, glorious, cunning, daring, a champion associated with warfare, metalwork, horsemanship, shipbuilding, and navigation? The Greeks answer this question, in part, by denying the existence of Metis.
Metis, whose name means wisdom, skill, or craft, was a nymph and daughter of Titans who became Zeus’ first wife. When a prophecy said that Metis would bear children wiser than their father, Zeus became afraid his children would overthrow him. So, Zeus did what any reasonable god would do and swallowed Metis. But it was too late; Metis was pregnant with her first and only child. She crafted armour, a spear, and a shield for her daughter. Athena grew in Zeus’ mind and gave him a tremendous headache when she banged her spear and shield together. When he couldn’t take the pain anymore, he ordered someone to crack his head open, and Athena emerged fully grown, radiantly armed, and crying–not like a newborn but like a warrior.
Reconciling with Athena
An enduring feminist interpretation of Athena is that she is the ultimate patriarchal sell-out. My devotion to Athena has waxed and waned over the years because I’ve struggled with her image.
When I moved to Australia and established my home temple, I dedicated it to Athena but later abandoned my devotion. Later, in divination with the skilled and talented Fio Gede Parma, who didn’t know any of this, Athena asked why I didn’t worship her anymore. So, while I abandoned Athena, she had not left me, but I already knew this.
Athena, or at least her cult, is older and more complex than Classical Greece. Her various connections with birds and serpents hint at the Near Eastern influences. While she was associated with aspects of male existence in Classical Greece, such as warfare, metalwork, and horsemanship, Athena was also the patron of women’s work and was linked with childbirth, health, music, and even divination.
Athena was used to resolve the succession problem for the Olympians and safeguard it further. Zeus devoured Athena’s primordial mother, erasing the goddess. Athena was used to underline Zeus’s status as the sovereign power and inaugurate the new age of the Olympian gods. Athena’s duality results from the patriarchal refashioning of an older inheritance.
I have dedicated July to Athena and reestablished my devotion to her. I’ve come to embrace Athena again not by saying simply that she was co-opted; reducing her to a goddess brainwashed into championing the patriarchy does Athena a great disservice. Instead, I consider that Athena presided over spheres from which Greek women were almost entirely excluded. While we still struggle, women today are no longer shut out from participating in civil institutions, business and enterprise, and the military.
Exploring Athena further
In future blog entries, I hope to explore Athena further. She is a diverse goddess: a virgin, a mother, a warrior, a weaver, a cunning shape-shifter, the delayer of death, the subduer of winds, the deceitful, associated with the Underworld, childbirth, and not only with Athens but also Arcadia, Sparta, Thessaly, Argos, Mycenae, and Crete. Medusa is also on my altar this month, and much can also be said about her.
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