Face of the Goddess
Donna once asked me what Athena was like. This was long ago, before she had met the goddess in person, and before I head learned from my time on Olympus that my mortal perspective of her had been haltingly narrow.
I described to Donna Athena as she appeared to me: Pallas, the shining warrior, defender of civilization. And though I knew intellectually that there were other realms than war in her portfolio, I continued to think of Athena as she appeared to me then. Wisdom and handicraft were secondary, in my mind, to her role as protector and warrior.
Later I would realize that this was vanity, however obfuscated. I saw the Goddess this way because it is how I saw myself. When I described Athena to Donna, I described little more than a divine version of my own self-image.
When I first realized the similarities, it only served to boost my ego. After all, I was the Athena's champion. Why should she not choose the mortal who resembled her the most as her flag bearer?
Ironically, it was not till I was a goddess myself that I was humbled. In that time, only rarely did I see Pallas Athena in her shining armor. I saw instead Athena the weaver, guiding the hands of a poor woman in the war torn Congo who was struggling to clothe her children. I saw instead Grey-Eyed Athena, reflecting the thoughts of the statesmen trying earnestly to prevent war in the Middle East. I saw instead Athena the unwearying, providing comfort and strength to the teachers and principals trying to give hope to their students in the hope bereft inner cities.
When I was mortal once more, I told this all to Cassie when she echoed Donna's question. And I came to understand that I was chosen as a champion for Pallas Athena because that was the aspect of the goddess that benefited from my skills. I did my best to show respect not just to that aspect, but to all the faces of the goddess who had honored me so.
When later I returned to Olympus as a mortal, I saw Athena in still another form. She sat, dressed in common cloths before a laptop containing all the knowledge and wisdom that the world tried to contain. I saw her, a god, strain at the breadth of her task. When I returned again, blinded, I could tell by the tone of her voice and the weight of her gaze that that was the form in which she sat on the throne she won from Zeus.
It wasn't till months after the goddess gave me a portion of her sight to replace my own that I noticed that another resembled her far more than I. I would like to think that it was the rarity of my trips to Gotham, and to the clocktower in particular, that allowed the connection to escape me for so long. I know, however, that it had more to do with my own vanity than a lack of opportunity for observation.
These days, I am always in awe when I find myself confronted with Barbra Gordon. I am in awe as I see her hone her technical skills, which already place her as the best in the world. I am in awe on the rare occasion I see her enter physical combat, not only unhindered by her chair but far more formidable than she was before it. I am in awe as I see her make peace among our allies, guiding the most powerful beings in the world through a mask and an earpiece. And I am in awe as she does all the things for so many heroes after so many days without rest.
But above all else I am in awe when she sits before her screens and sets herself against a task that tries the mind of a god.
And perhaps it is vanity to say so, but I know Athena is equally impressed.
