The Hero Complex vs. The Inferiority Complex
Shadow Weaver didn’t just train soldiers—she shaped the way they saw themselves.
The character complexities of Catra and Adora are among the most fascinating dynamics in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. On one side, you have an inferiority complex. On the other, a hero complex. Both were projected onto them by Shadow Weaver.
From the moment Catra and Adora part ways, they’re not just in a war against each other—they’re in an internal battle against these complexes. Adora was praised by Shadow Weaver from an early age, always elevated at Catra’s expense. And when Adora becomes the chosen vessel of She-Ra, and with that extraordinary power, the dynamic only intensifies. She begins to see self-sacrifice not just as a duty, but as her purpose. Her wants, needs, and even her life take a backseat to this mission.
Catra, in contrast, grew up in Adora’s shadow. She was used by Shadow Weaver as leverage—to control Adora. When Adora made mistakes, Catra was punished. Catra’s well-being was directly tied to Adora’s behavior. Over time, Catra’s identity fused with Adora’s. She saw herself not as her own person, but in relation to Adora.
When Adora defects to the Princess Alliance, the impact isn’t just tactical—it’s emotional. Shadow Weaver places the blame on Catra. So, when Adora leaves, Catra begins a desperate campaign to prove that she’s better than Adora. Adora becomes her internal metric of worth. She isn’t just fighting a war—she’s trying to reclaim a sense of self that never had space to grow.
Glimmer and Catra, surprisingly, share a similar emotional code when it comes to relationships. That’s why Shadow Weaver’s manipulations are effective on both of them. She-Ra may be a fantasy, but these are still young people fighting a war. War is all they’ve known. Catra and Adora weren’t just soldiers—they were child soldiers. Every action they take is framed by survival, trauma, and the search for control.
Catra’s behavior may be frustrating, but it’s never confusing. You can always understand why she reacts the way she does. When Adora invites Catra to leave the Horde with her, Catra doesn’t see it as a chance to escape an oppressive regime—she sees it as Adora choosing to leave her. Their bubble, their closeness, the one comfort Catra ever had in the Horde—shattered. She doesn't process Adora’s defection as a moral decision, but as personal abandonment.
The love Catra holds for Adora? It never fades. And that’s what makes her arc so powerful. Because Catra is a compelling example of how love and hate aren’t opposites. We often think of them as such, but for two emotions to be opposites, they must cancel each other out. Yet Catra's story proves they can exist in the same space. Her feelings for Adora—and even Shadow Weaver—are rooted in both love and resentment. She hates what Adora represents. But she also loves her deeply.
If Catra had truly stopped caring, she might have become the perfect Horde captain. Her obsession with proving herself wouldn’t have sabotaged so many successful war strategies. But that’s the thing—she couldn’t stop caring. Because then she wouldn’t be Catra.
Meanwhile, Adora’s arc is about slowly recognizing that Shadow Weaver wasn’t just cruel to Catra—she was abusive to her too. But Adora doesn’t truly reckon with this until the final season, even the final episodes. For most of the series, she still operates under the belief that self-sacrifice is her destiny. It’s not until the end that she begins to understand: being a hero doesn’t mean giving up everything. Especially not yourself. Only when Catra admits her feelings can Adora imagine a life outside of saving someone.
Adora’s desire to save people is inherently noble; without it, Spinerella, Mermista, Scorpia, and even Catra would have been lost. And without Catra, Adora would’ve sacrificed everything to save not just them but the universe from Horde Prime. She takes on Mara’s sacrifice and forgets that Mara didn’t want to die—she sacrificed herself so the next She-Ra didn’t have to.
Catra and Adora weren’t born enemies. They were raised in a system that manipulated their love into rivalry. Shadow Weaver didn’t just create soldiers—she created trauma bonds. And the most meaningful victory of She-Ra isn’t the defeat of the Horde. It’s the healing between these two broken girls who were once just trying to survive their situations.