In the field of classical studies, much debate remains over the exploration of gender in antiquity, especially in relation to how our modern-day understandings are superimposed onto the ancient context. While it is important to recognize that ancient conceptions of gender differed from our present-day conceptions, writing off queer identities in antiquity entirely is also problematic. Gender exists as a wide and shifting spectrum of experiences; thus, while there may not have been clear-cut labels or identities such as transgender or non-binary in antiquity, there were numerous, diverse ways that individuals deviated from the gender norms (1). As José Esteban Muñoz (1996) demonstrates, since daily survival for queer individuals often depends on not leaving too much of a trace, queer communities are often left out of official, documented histories. Thus, Muñoz argues that scholarship must turn to “anecdotal and ephemeral evidence [which] grants entrance and access to those who have been locked out of official histories” (9). In other words, as maintained by H. Christian Blood (2019), “instead of waiting for explicit evidence [from antiquity], we need to look for subtler evidence” (166). Thus, scholars must engage with queer readings of ancient literary texts in order to highlight the various ways that individuals experienced their gender in the ancient world (2). Blood (2019) maintains that “if we hope to find the palimpsestic traces of trans people in antiquity, we will need to look in places like The Golden Ass and its galli” (166). In book eight of The Golden Ass, otherwise known as Metamorphoses, through the actions and behaviors of the galli, along with the specific language that is employed, Apuleius provides a clear example of non-normative gender identities—specifically transgender identities—in ancient Rome.
Authored by Apuleius in the second century AD, Metamorphoses is the only ancient Roman novel in Latin to survive in its entirety (Loeb Classical Library). The novel describes the story of Lucius, who, desiring to practice magic, accidentally turns himself into a donkey. In book eight of this novel, Lucius, still in the form of a donkey, is sold off by an auctioneer to a group of Syrian priests. Through the point of view of Lucius, readers are provided with a description of the priests and their behaviors that reveals their non-normative gender identities. Lucius, in observing the priests, often focuses on their feminine qualities. For example, he states that the galli have “effeminate voices” (Apuleius Metamorphoses 8.26) and “filthy, effeminate blood” (Apuleius Met. 8.28). He even goes so far as to label the priests as “half-men” (Apuleius Met. 8.28). In addition, Lucius also relates the behaviors of the galli, like beautifying themselves with makeup and wearing multicolored tunics and dresses (Apuleius Met. 8.27), both actions typical of women in ancient Rome. Therefore, Lucius displays how the priests strayed from the gender norms of the time, which both confuses and disgusts him.
Additionally, the specific language used by the galli themselves further demonstrates how they deviate from the cisgender norms of Roman society. In his article, Blood (2019) argues for a reading of the galli as “ancestral trans figures” (179): biological males whose gender identity is, instead, female. He claims “that the narrative’s strategic deployment of gendered language in Book 8…end[s] up demarcating a subculture” (164)—an alternative community of transgender or, at the least, gender nonconforming individuals. One example of this gendered language is the Latin term puellae, which translates to “girls.” For instance, when Philebus returns home from the auction, they (3) call out to the rest of the galli, saying “‘Girls! Look what a pretty little slave-boy I’ve bought you’” (Apuleius Met. 8.27-28). Thus, Philebus uses the term “girls” to address the priests, revealing how puellae is used by the galli to describe themselves. In addition, the galli also favor feminine grammatical forms and pronouns and gendered diminutives when identifying themselves (Blood 2019, 169) (4). Accordingly, Blood (2019) maintains that the galli, by wearing makeup and women’s clothing and referring to themselves as “girls” with feminine grammatical forms, are asserting an inner authenticity about themselves (169, 178) (5). In short, the priests should be read as transgender figures—their male genitals and chromosomes do not match their desired female gender identity, which they establish and assert through their actions and language.
However, through the other characters in the story, the trans and gender-nonconforming identities of the Syrian priests are problematized. For instance, Lucius, the narrator, refers to the galli with masculine pronouns, misgendering them and denying them their desired identification. Moreover, other characters, such as the auctioneer and the townspeople from a neighboring village, also display disgust and anger towards the non-normative gender expressions of the galli. One example occurs when the townspeople discover the priests partaking in sexual acts with a young male, which Lucius describes as “the vilest acts of unnatural lust” (Apuleius Met. 8.29). When the townspeople catch the galli in this act, they express such abhorrence that the priests are forced to “[gather] up all their belongings and stealthily [make] their way out of the town” (Apuleius Met. 8.30). Evidently, the townspeople fail to understand the queer identities of the priests. In their ignorance, they express fear and anger, forcing the priests to quietly leave town. In sum, through the galli, Apuleius provides an explicit example of a visible queer minority in Ancient Rome that was forced to “live at the margins of a society that tolerated, but never accepted, their trans identities” (Blood 2019, 180). Clearly, non-normative gender identities existed in antiquity, but were greatly misunderstood.
Yet, even though it is evident that the transgender identity of the Syrian priests was misconstrued and suppressed by others, Blood (2019) claims that Apuleius may not have been problematizing but shining light on these queer minorities. He affirms that Lucius serves as an unreliable narrator who presents a negative portrayal of the priests, not just because they deviate from the gender norms, but also because of Lucius’ bias towards the Cybele cult that the Syrian priests are members of (Blood 2019, 172). As a result, instead of Apuleius himself insulting the gender identities of the galli, he “may be trying to expose the limits of Roman citizen subject position” (171). In brief, Apuleius might be trying to highlight the strict boundaries of normative Roman identities. In fact, Blood (2019) even employs the example of the narrator being in the body of a donkey as proof of this. He asserts that just as “Lucius’s donkey body is not the truth of his mind, body, or soul, nor is a trans woman’s male physiology the truth of hers. This parallel seems too closely matched to be dismissed as mere coincidence” (180). In other words, the author of The Golden Ass may be using the symbolism of Lucius turning into a donkey to provide a parallel queer identity to the Syrian priests, exemplifying and potentially even revealing an understanding of their trans identities.
Overall, the galli, or the Syrian priests, in book eight of Metamorphoses by Apuleius, exhibit a transgender or gender-nonconforming community in ancient Rome. By reading beyond Lucius’ negative and offensive descriptions of the galli, we can locate an entire community whose gender-nonconforming presentation and language evince their queer identities. They represent voices marginalized, threatened, and covered up by the dominant discourse in antiquity. Nevertheless, these voices can be found if scholars dig deep enough. Therefore, while concrete labels denoting queer identities may not have existed in the ancient context, queer communities most certainly did, and the classical studies discipline owes it to queer communities today to locate these identities so they will not continue to be silenced or forced into the background.
Bibliography
Apuleius. Metamorphoses (The Golden Ass), Volume II: Book 8. Edited and translated by J.
Arthur Hanson, 48-101. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989. Loeb Classical Library 453. https://www.loebclassics.com/view/LCL453/1989/volume.xml.
Austin J. L. “Performative Utterances.” In Philosophical Papers, edited by J. O. Urmson and G. J. Warnock. Oxford Scholarship Online, 1979. DOI:10.1093/019283021X.003.0010. https://oxford-universitypressscholarship-com.proxy3.library.mcgill.ca/view/10.1093/019283021X.001.0001/acprof-9780192830210-chapter-10.
Blood, H. Christian. “Sed illae puellae: Transgender Studies and Apuleius's The Golden Ass.” Helios 46, no. 2 (2019): 163-188. https://doi.org/10.1353/hel.2019.0009.
Loeb Classical Library. “APULEIUS, Metamorphoses (The Golden Ass), Volume II: Books 7-11.” Accessed November 20, 2021. https://www.loebclassics.com/view/LCL453/1989/volume.xml.
Moore, Ken. “The Iphis Incident: Ovid’s Accidental Discovery of Gender Dysphoria.” Athens Journal of History 7, no. 2 (2021): 96-116. https://doi.org/10.30958/ajhis.7-2-1.
Muñoz, José Esteban. “Ephemera as Evidence: Introductory Notes to Queer Acts.” Women & Performance: A Journal of Feminist Theory 8, no. 2 (1996): 5-16. https://doi.org/10.1080/07407709608571228.
Zajko, Vanda. “‘Listening With’ Ovid: Intersexuality, Queer Theory, and the Myth of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis.” Helios 36, no. 2 (2009): 175-202. doi:10.1353/hel.0.0023.
Endnotes:
As Vanda Zajko (2009) explains, “[r]ather than focus on specific sexual acts or object-choices, queer theory affirms the diversity of the potential identities available to those marginalized and pathologized by normative models of heterosexuality” (179). In other words, a queer identity is any identity that deviates from the normative cisgender, heterosexual body; consequently, queer identities do not have to be defined by specific actions or behaviors but can be defined instead from the divergence from societal norms. This is a useful model when exploring queer communities in antiquity because it allows scholars to avoid imposing modern-day labels onto ancient societies, but still explore and acknowledge non-normative genders and sexualities throughout history
Another example of a queer reading of ancient texts and sources occurs in an article by Ken Moore on the myth of Iphis and Ianthe. Moore (2021) argues that this myth should not be approached from an angle of lesbianism—as it normally is in scholarship (96)—but should examine Iphis as a figure dealing with gender dysphoria: discomfort or distress created by one’s biological sex not aligning with their gender identity (109). Thus, he locates Iphis as a transgender male who is able to use divine intervention as a therapeutic approach to help suppress his gender dysphoria (97).
I use the pronoun “they” to refer to Philebus because I do not want to misgender them like Lucius does. Thus, a gender-neutral pronoun in this case does not assume the gender identity of Philebus.
As defined by J. L. Austin (1979), a performative utterance is language that does not serve to describe, report, or evaluate, but actually performs an action. He uses the example of saying “I do” at a wedding ceremony. This is a performative utterance because it does not report on the marriage but creates the marriage. I argue that, by referring to themselves as “girls” and using female grammatical forms and pronouns to identify themselves, the galli are using performative utterances. In other words, their language does not just describe themselves, but works to make them female.
Blood (2019) calls these actions “discursive labor” (169).
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