Mothers of Blood and Power

Every story has its kings and warriors, but the women behind them often wield power just as sharp as any blade. Sometimes sharper.

While watching Sons of Anarchy, I found myself thinking about one woman in particular from Greek myth: Clytemnestra. At first glance, the worlds could not be more different. One ruled a Bronze Age palace built of stone and bronze. The other moved through the shadows of modern California, commanding respect inside an outlaw motorcycle club. 

Yet the longer you watch Gemma Teller, the harder it becomes to ignore the resemblance.

Both women are mothers first. Not gentle, passive mothers tucked quietly behind the scenes, but women who understand that survival sometimes demands decisive action. They are protectors of their bloodline, guardians of legacy, and architects of vengeance when they believe their families are threatened.

Clytemnestra is often remembered for one act above all others: the killing of her husband, Agamemnon. To later audiences, it reads as shocking betrayal. But within the logic of myth, her actions are rooted in grief and rage. Agamemnon sacrificed their daughter, Iphigenia, in exchange for favorable winds to sail to Troy. A king secured glory. A mother buried a child.

Years passed, but grief does not fade simply because time moves forward. When Agamemnon finally returned from war, Clytemnestra did not hesitate. She exacted revenge with deliberate precision. Her violence was not wild or reckless. It was planned, measured, and rooted in the belief that justice demanded action.

Gemma Teller operates from a similar place of conviction. When she believed that Tara posed a threat to her son Jax and the future of the club, she acted with terrifying certainty. Like Clytemnestra, Gemma did not view herself as a villain. She believed she was protecting her family, preserving order, and defending what mattered most. Her choices were brutal, but in her mind, they were necessary.

That is what makes both women so unsettling. They do not act from madness. They act from purpose.
Both understand that power does not always sit on a throne. Sometimes it moves quietly behind the scenes, shaping events long before the world notices what has happened. Both women wield violence not as an emotional outburst, but as a calculated tool. They believe that hesitation invites weakness, and weakness invites ruin.

Yet there is always a cost.

Clytemnestra’s vengeance secured justice in her eyes, but it also set into motion the downfall of her household. Her son, Orestes, would one day return to avenge his father. Blood called for blood. Revenge created more revenge.

Gemma’s story follows a similarly tragic path. Her decision to eliminate Tara did not preserve her family. It fractured it. Her attempt to protect Jax ultimately contributed to his unraveling.
That is the quiet truth both stories reveal.

Women like Clytemnestra and Gemma Teller are not powerless figures reacting to events beyond their control. They are decision-makers. Strategists. Women who step forward when others hesitate.
They wield authority not through title, but through will.

And perhaps that is why they endure as unforgettable figures in their respective worlds. Not because they were gentle. Not because they were forgiving. But because they were willing to do what others feared.  Queens of vengeance do not wait for justice. They create it.

— Janell Rhiannon
© 2015, revised 2026 Janell Rhiannon. All rights reserved.

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