Aphrodite walks down the street, an unassuming young woman. She watches the men who follow women around, clawing at their hair, their clothes. She curses them on a watery tongue. They will drown on their own words tonight.
Athena is at war in the senate seat, the streets, in her own head. She’s a strategist, a wise, nasty woman. She stands for the people who are thrown to the wolves, and gives them a sword so they can be the heroes she knows them to be.
Artemis hunts down the abusers, the takers, the grim reapers. She shoots arrows of truth and revolution into the hearts of survivors. She is always just ahead in the tree line, crying for you to be free.
Hera is the school teacher, the grandmother, a victim who notices your wounds and stays with you. She is a mother, firm grip on your shoulder as you stand up against violence, against anything bad for you. You will win today, you have no other choice. She looks at you and survival is etched in her face.
Hecate is the friend that tells you to leave the asshole, who is a bodyguard, who threatens their tongues with their wrath. She cannot be moved, grounded in the earth.
Hestia is a social worker who takes in runaways. She holds picket signs and feeds those who would not be fed. Who makes homes for the lost, the aged, the sick. She sees their strength and their trial by fire. She rewards them for their triumph up to this point.
Persephone knows how to fight for her love, how to break your mother’s heart for knowing who you are and what you want, realizing that was not what your family wanted. She waves pride flags, she sips wine at gay bars.