Welcome to my queer history blog! As a Historical Fiction writer, I am always on the hunt for fascinating nonfiction history books. This post begins a new series on my blog in which I review Historical Nonfiction which either focuses on queer history or has major elements centering queer persons or stories. You can learn more about my Historical Fiction works here!
One of the first nonfiction books I fell in love with as a girl was Edith Hamilton’s seminal work Mythology. Even as a fifth grader, there was nothing I adored more than my mornings learning about Odysseus, Athena and more over a bowl of cereal. Little has changed since then, so when I recently spied a gorgeous book entitled Women of Myth – I really couldn’t resist!
But why am I reviewing this beautiful book here on my queer history blog? I did not purchase the book with the intention of doing so! However, I quickly discovered that this nonfiction work is replete with important discussions of queer history as found in myths throughout the world and, by extension, sociocultural history. For that reason alone, I would gladly recommend this work to anyone intrigued by historical subjects and/or gender and queer studies. Fortunately, Women of Myth has a great deal more to offer.
The Basics
As I read it, Women of Myth struck me as something akin to a graphic novel; this may seem an odd comparison for a work of historical nonfiction, but in my view this aspect is an advantage. The volume is the product of a collaboration between Jenny Williamson and Genn McMenemy, the creators of the Ancient History Fangirl Podcast. Rather than a linear chronological narrative, Women of Myth contains brief portraits of fifty women (including women of nonbinary, transgender and genderqueer identities) from global mythology. Each entry spans a few pages, divided into consistent sections detailing key information, background context and famous stories involving the character in question. The entries are divided into three categories: goddesses, heroines, and monsters.
Admittedly, history buffs are notorious for stocking their bookshelves and coffee tables with informative doorstops. Women of Myth, at just 255 pages (many of which are illustrations or text boxes), is a very different format for this genre. This approach, however, makes the figures and stories represented vastly more accessible to a modern audience (particularly young adult audiences). Each story, although perhaps esoteric and unfamiliar to the average reader, is portrayed in a comprehensible and relatable way which enables themes to emerge across a wide range of myths.
This assessment is not to imply that this book is poorly researched; on the contrary, a comprehensive list of sources is included as well as a helpful index. Williamson and McMenemy approach their subject(s) with diligent analysis and are careful to note circumstances where mythological accounts differ or sources may be sparse. Likewise, the authors have deliberately portrayed a wide range of characters throughout ancient to early modern history, across the gender and sexuality spectrum and spanning every corner of the globe. This effort has resulted in a genuinely diverse array of characters represented (making the book’s thorough sourcing all the more important).
Perhaps the greatest strength of this book is its graphic design – particularly its character artwork. The cover alone, resplendent in pinks and golds, sold my millennial soul on making the purchase, but my subsequent discovery of the gorgeous artwork within its pages was truly the icing on the cake. The illustrations by Sara Richard primarily consist of character art for about half of the women portrayed in the volume (usually one every other story). Sara’s artwork is powerful, emotive, and dynamic, and each portrait is meticulously honed to the style, culture and personality of the central character. I especially appreciated that Sara’s artwork demonstrates these figures with a range of body types and features appropriate to their unique historical, racial, and ethnic backgrounds.
Queer Women of Myth?
All of this would be more than enough to recommend this book to even a casual student of history, but as a queer history researcher I was especially drawn to the compelling portrayals of Women of Myth’s queer characters (of which there are many). Critically, Women of Myth does not silo its queer, iconic women, but highlights queer themes throughout the volume as its own analytical lens. Liv Albert, a podcast host and the writer of this book’s foreword, notes that the volume is meant to enable “looking at the ways those ancient peoples understood the fluidity and spectrum of gender.” In a similar vein, the authors emphasize in the introduction that “[s]ome of our heroines present as traditionally feminine; others are more masculine presenting. Some are genderqueer, and many defy conventional gender roles as defined by their cultures.”
This queer-inclusive inquiry is visible in several of the book’s profiles. Atagartis, for example, is highlighted as an ancient Syrian mermaid goddess. She is notorious as the figurehead of “a fierce and ecstatic” religious cult which “became a religion of oppressed minorities in the Roman Empire.” Fascinatingly, Atagartis was worshipped by a community of transgender priestesses. The process of induction into the religious cult reportedly centered people assigned male at birth who performed ritual self-castration to become official priestesses. Once castrated, Atagartis’ new priestesses adorned themselves and lived out the remainder of their lives as women. This cult suggests a deliberate flouting of strict gender binaries but also implies that many of those who elected to join her cult were what we would today consider transgender (even if we cannot confirm how these individuals identified or understood their gender without additional evidence).
Another example is that of Ishtar, the “bearded goddess” of war and sex, among other titles. Ishtar is described as a possible early representation of a transgender or intersex person. Her association with the planet Venus connects her to a gender presentation which switched from feminine in the morning to masculine in the evening. Like Atagartis, Ishtar is associated with the transformation of gender and the flouting of gender-specific norms. Her own priestesses may have been transgender, while her regular worshippers were thought to cross-dress on purpose during her religious festivals; as a deity, she was credited with the power to change humans’ genders at will.
While queer gender identity is visible throughout Women of Myth, queer sexualities are also prominent if fewer in number overall. One portrait in this category is that of the African and Afro-Caribbean goddess Mami Wata, thought to be a stunning half-mermaid or perhaps half-snake in some depictions. She is connected to ancient African fertility goddesses, but her Haitian counterpart – Lasirenn – has been connected specifically to queer Black women. Like other goddesses, her depictions reportedly lean toward what we would recognize as gender fluidity.
Another example is that of the Greek goddess Athena, who was so disgusted by the attentions of men that she blinded the unfortunate Tiresias, who caught sight of the goddess bathing. The authors suggest that Athena’s famous (and tragic) friendship with the water deity Pallas might have veered toward sapphic or lesbian expressions of love. Though the authors acknowledge that this suggestion is speculative, I would further speculate that Athena’s reported shunning of sexual and romantic love could also indicate asexuality and/or aromanticism.
On the other hand…
Despite all of its positives, Women of Myth has some significant limitations which may curtail its appeal for certain audiences. Most importantly, this volume is very much a survey-level discussion of women throughout mythology and is not designed to provide an in-depth, thorough analysis of any of the characters it presents. These chapters might be an ideal resource for instigating an in-depth investigation of a portrayed figure, but are not sufficient for a complete historical or literary picture of any one individual.
This brevity, which is a strength in other ways throughout this book, leads to another drawback: limited social and cultural context for each portrayal. As someone who, for example, lacks deep analytical experience in the mythologies of East Asia, I found myself left with many burning questions about the stories of Baishe Niangniang (the White Snake Goddess of China) and Princess Bari (a Korean shaman). Each story contains fantastical elements, almost certainly rife with specific temporal and cultural meanings. For a non-expert reader, it seems probable that a great deal of important symbolism and metaphor is lost in these quick, focused retellings of their narratives. The authors helpfully provide a few paragraphs of extra insights in specially designed text boxes for many of the characters, but these resources highlight the depth of additional information which is still likely missing.
To be continued?
Taken together, Women of Myth serves as the beginning of a dialogue, not an ending, in its portrayal of fifty mythological women. It is not an extensive nonfiction account of any of them, but rather an accessible, relatable and thoroughly enjoyable review of these characters and how many of them have influenced our modern worldview on gender and sexuality. Within its compelling portraits, the unique queer dimensions shine through the beautifully crafted pages. I imagine that any student of history coming to this book will learn something new, and those (like myself) particularly intrigued by queer history will not come away disappointed. Above all, Women of Myth reads as an invitation to its audience to press ahead in the acknowledgment and study of its central characters – a figurative “to be continued!” for its readers’ pursuit.