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If you’ve visited my previous posts on asexuality and aromanticism in history, you already know that the hot pursuit of “the invisible orientation(s)” is one of my passions in the queer history genre. For yours truly, stumbling upon a *possible* queer icon somewhere along the “A” in our beloved acronym is something akin to finding the Holy Grail. Perhaps fittingly, this post takes us all the way to the ancient Middle East – and to one of the most fascinating women of her age: Hypatia of Alexandria.
Who was Hypatia, and why might we consider her an aroace icon of the ancient world? Her tragically short life offers tantalizing clues as to how an aromantic and asexual woman might have navigated the fragmented world of late antiquity, and perhaps even an early version of what we might today consider queer critical theory.
Ancient Alexandria
Yes – the one with the Lighthouse.
I freely admit that my inspiration to research Hypatia did not emerge in a vacuum – rather, it was the result of a fortuitous decision to pick up a new nonfiction historical volume, Alexandria by Islam Issa, earlier this year. The book (which I cannot recommend highly enough – fuller review to come shortly) featured the iconic Hypatia in all her enigmatic glory. It also sent me flying down the proverbial rabbit hole as this aroace history buff sensed a kindred spirit springing from the pages of Issa’s work.
To properly understand Hypatia, a brief overview of her city – specifically, in the late ancient period during which she lived – is in order.
By the 4th century CE, Alexandria had long been a dominant city along the Egyptian Mediterranean for several centuries. Its illustrious founder, Alexander the Great, had envisioned the eponymous city as the convergence point for the (then) known world. He personally designed the city such that Eastern and Western cultures, philosophies and identities might coexist and enhance one another. His successors in Egypt, the Ptolemaic dynasties, made his vision real – until their rule sputtered to an end with the death of the infamous Cleopatra amid Rome’s meteoric rise.
But as the Roman empire began its own long decline, Alexandria remained a bustling center of trade in goods, people and especially ideas – the latter a potent commodity as the spiritual outlook for the Roman world changed dramatically with the rise of Christianity.[1] By the time of Hypatia’s birth (either in 370 CE or possibly 350), her hometown was home to thriving communities of pagan Greeks, Jews, and Egyptian Christians (who remain an important minority in the country today) among other diverse religious and spiritual communities.[2] Such diversity had been the founder’s vision, after all, and (as Issa’s work aptly illustrates) had often been a source of strength and vibrance for the city as much as its fabulous architecture and scholastic reputation.
Unfortunately, tensions among Alexandria’s disparate residents would begin to boil over during Hypatia’s lifetime, with devastating consequences.
“The Lady”
Hypatia, like many Alexandrians of her age, was of Greek descent and spent her life guided by (and guiding others in) Greek philosophy. In this respect, she followed in her father’s footsteps: Theon was one of the final members of Alexandria’s Museum, an institution which had previously been a crown jewel of the city under Ptolemaic rule.[3] One source, compiled within a few decades of her death, writes of her having “made such attainments in literature and science, as to far surpass all the philosophers of her own time.”[4] It is likely that Theon, himself an accomplished academic, tutored his daughter in mathematics, philosophy and astronomy – all subjects Hypatia would excel in.[5]
Hypatia was not shy about her accomplishments either. In a departure from the gender norms of the age, one source notes that “the lady made appearances around the center of the city, expounding in public to those willing to listen on Plato or Aristotle.”[6] As a philosopher, Hypatia was firmly embedded in the Neoplatonic school of thought based in Plato’s Theory of Forms.[7] She eventually became the leading scholastic authority of this philosophical branch in Alexandria, teaching as something of a public professor and opening her home to colleagues and students of all stripes.[8]
For Hypatia, philosophy and mathematics were a flawless pairing. In the latter field, Hypatia is thought to have written a number of commentaries, particularly those concerning astronomy. One such commentary of hers expounded on Ptolemy’s Almagest, which established the original earth-centric model of the universe.[9] She was also an expert in the astrolabe, used until the early modern period to make astronomical measurements and geographic calculations, and an inventor of other tools like the hydroscope.[10] One scholar argues that Hypatia “was in fact the greatest mathematician then living in the Greco-Roman world, very likely the world as a whole.”[11]
She was reputed to be a physically beautiful and imposing woman, but few physical descriptions of her survive. Rather, her contemporary biographers suggest that her beauty of spirit and sterling character drew the devotion of Alexandrians throughout her lifetime. Indeed, students of various religious and spiritual backgrounds were counted among her most devoted protégées.[12]
One of her biographers, Socrates (not the famous ancient philosopher of the same name), wrote of her:
“On account of the self-possession and ease of manner, which she had acquired in consequence of the cultivation of her mind, she not infrequently appeared in public in presence of the magistrates. Neither did she feel abashed in coming to an assembly of men. For all men on account of her extraordinary dignity and virtue admired her the more.”[13]
Hypatia was thus a highly visible, respected and influential scholar in a city full of them. She had admirers aplenty – but lovers were another matter entirely.
The OG Platonic Love?
So why might Hypatia be considered an early example of an aroace icon? To delineate the possibility, a few definitions (for the uninitiated) are in order.
“Aroace” in the modern queer community is shorthand for any individual who identifies as part of both the “aromantic” and “asexual” communities. Aromanticism refers to any person who experiences little or no romantic attraction; asexuality means the same, but with regards to sexual attraction. The “aro” and “ace” communities, importantly, are not synonymous; an individual may align with either identity, while some individuals (the author included) align with both. As I hope to demonstrate further below, the ace and aro communities emphasize that a wide spectrum of “loves” and “attractions” exist – not just romantic and sexual ones.
However, these identities were not described as such, even in their earliest forms, until the late 19th century (as I’ve detailed more fully in previous posts). Hypatia would have had no concept of either identity as they are understood today. She did, however, have a profound understanding of Plato and Neoplatonism.
Neoplatonism emerged as an amalgamation of philosophies in the late ancient period; it was (as it’s nomenclature suggests) connected loosely to the earlier frameworks established by Plato.[14] In briefest possible summary, Neoplatonists argued that all reality descends from a single basis, or starting point. One source refers to this as “the effect of a singular principle of consciousness.”[15] Neoplatonic thought eventually crafted strict categories between the Soul, Consciousness, Nature and Matter – deeming physical elements and attributes as of decidedly lesser importance than the intangible, metaphysical ones.[16] The physical human body, therefore, and in particular its basic and primal urges, must be steadfastly controlled in the pursuit of higher consciousness.
The modern notion of “platonic love” thus emerged from this mode of thinking. Platonic love (and its more recent etymological cousin, queerplatonic love) refers to a committed, partnered relationship which is not primarily centered on romantic or sexual desire. Aromantics and asexuals often have wide-ranging experiences with both platonic and queerplatonic love, but few realize that their experiences and identities have such a direct link to the realm of ancient philosophers.
Mind Over Matter
By all accounts, Hypatia herself was deeply influenced by Neoplatonic prescriptions for love and sexuality – or, perhaps, these worldviews and her own nature were intimately aligned and mutually reinforcing.
It was believed among her contemporaries, and accepted by scholars today, that Hypatia never pursued a romantic relationship or a sexual lover.[17] There is no reliable record that she ever married or bore any children – an unusual arrangement for a woman of high status in the late Hellenistic world. Some records even suggest that she was sought after as a bachelorette given her reputed beauty and graceful demeanor, but she refused them all.[18]
Indeed, one infamous encounter with a student, whose adoration had clearly moved from the platonic to something else, confirms her perspective on human sexuality. Her pupil reportedly approached her while forlorn with love – and apparently physical lust – for his mistress.
Despite his efforts to seduce her into a romantic affair, Hypatia was unmoved. To make her point on the vanity of sexual desire, she threw her own menstrual rag at the suitor, informing him, “this is what you love…and it isn’t beautiful!”[19] Another incident shows Hypatia taking a gentler approach with her student Damascius: when he confronted her with a similar romantic proposition, she advised him to listen to calming music and thus overcome his worldly inclinations.[20]
Celibate, Aroace, or Both?
All of this seems to be in keeping with the Neoplatonic worldview, its disdain for the flesh, and the wider philosophy of which Hypatia was a well-known devotee. But it is also plausible, if not likely, that there was more to Hypatia’s personal and professional choices than deeply held beliefs.
To be sure, Neoplatonists of varying schools abounded before, during and after Hypatia’s lifetime. Though many shared her views and ideals, many obviously also pursued romantic intrigue, married, had children and built families in typical fashion. Even the emerging Christian movement in Egypt and elsewhere, which increasingly favored monasticism and celibacy as privileged lifestyles, had a complex relationship with both. As the revered Augustine once quipped, “Lord, give me chastity…but not yet!”
Many of these individuals might have been celibate for most or all their lives, but that fact alone did not necessarily make them asexual or aromantic, let alone both. Celibacy, as the quip above demonstrates, is an active choice (and not always an easy one). But asexuality and aromanticism are identities – states of being requiring no active choice or determination on the part of the individual. A celibate person may well also be asexual and/or aromantic, and this pairing has likely been the case throughout history. But celibacy and either identity is not synonymous, and all these labels exist independently of one another.
In reading what details are available about Hypatia’s life and perspectives, it is the author’s view that a strong case can be made that she was not just an ideological celibate, but also an aroace historical figure. Clearly, some of her intrepid, passionate students were holding to Neoplatonic disdain of the flesh by, quite literally, the skin of their teeth. In contrast, Hypatia seemed to maintain such disdain with ease, even pleasure and serenity.
She appeared to stand proud in her disinterest in romantic love and sexual intrigue, wholly consumed by her devotion to the internal, the metaphysical and spiritual. These drove her to great heights as a scientist and a teacher; carnal matters, on the other hand, were at best a distraction and at worst outright offensive. Many aroaces (the author included) can relate to these sentiments even if their own experiences are more nuanced.
None of the accounts of her life suggest that she was anything but delighted in the single, celibate and (in her eyes) virtuous state. Perhaps, in her case, art perfected nature. Put another way, it can be argued that Hypatia’s philosophical inclinations were wholly and harmoniously suited to who she already was.
Murder Most Foul
Obviously, this discussion is far from definitive proof of Hypatia’s (or anyone else’s) potentially queer identity. Hypatia’s lifetime preceded meaningful development of aromantic and asexual discourse by about fifteen hundred years. These terms themselves would have been utterly unfamiliar to her; they remain unfamiliar to a disappointingly vast number of people today.
Given these sharp limitations, it is especially disappointing to have no surviving writings confirmed directly from Hypatia’s hand. Our modern knowledge of her work is overwhelmingly secondhand, particularly through her accomplished students and those who wished to preserve her memory after her tragic demise. Had such works of hers survived, we might today have more direct insights into her mindset around love and sexuality. Perhaps, in that fantastical and counterfactual circumstance, Hypatia might have been the world’s first aroace critical scholar.
Alas, none of this was to be – not least because Hypatia’s brilliant life was cut brutally short in one of history’s most infamous murders.
During Hypatia’s lifetime, religious tensions in Alexandria were accelerating – particularly between the swelling community of Egyptian Christians and long-established pagan Greeks. Hypatia was a leading light in the latter category, and also a highly visible friend of the Roman governor Orestes, who controlled her city.[21] A contemporary source records that Hypatia thus “fell a victim to the political jealousy which at that time prevailed…For as she had frequent interviews with Orestes, it was calumniously reported among the Christian populace, that it was she who prevented Orestes from being reconciled to the bishop.”[22]
The bishop in question was the fiery Cyril, who at the time was engaged in an intense rivalry with Orestes. Though both men ostensibly shared the Christian faith, they were hopelessly at odds over the treatment of religious minorities in Alexandria. It remains unclear if, or to what extent, Cyril was involved in Hypatia’s murder.[23]
What is clear is that a group of Christian zealots spotted Hypatia in her carriage one day in March 415 and took their opportunity to destroy her. The accounts vary, but most versions suggest that Hypatia was dragged from her carriage, stripped naked and carted off to be beaten to death in what amounted to a mob murder.
Some accounts suggest Hypatia’s body was ultimately torn to pieces, and unceremoniously dumped into a hastily kindled fire. Islam Issa cites this tragedy as a turning point in the city’s history, arguing: “Alexandria had long been famed for new knowledge and relative tolerance. Hypatia represented both of these…With her death came confirmation of changing times.”[24]
Martyr, Symbol, Queer Icon?
Ironically, Hypatia has been immortalized in popular culture ever since her murder in part because of the cruel, reactionary and oppressive fervor which caused it. Hypatia’s life and scholarship have been reviewed and reconsidered by successive generations intent on understanding one of the great teachers of her age; in the same manner, she has been reinvented time and time again by those inspired by her legacy and example.
Perhaps, then, a reassessment of Hypatia as a potential queer icon in history – among many such cases of reexamination as the genre ascends to its rightful place – is overdue. The question, at least in this case, cannot be answered definitively. Indeed, fast and hard conclusions about any such identities in history are hard to come by.
That said, Hypatia certainly seems a prime candidate for what an aroace life, worldview and philosophical foundation might have looked like centuries before either identity was described by psychologists. In that sense, today and tomorrow’s aroaces can confidently look back to her (look up to her?) as – just maybe – one of ours. Even if Hypatia herself never heard of us, one imagines she would have welcomed the coupling, maybe the only coupling she would have ever tolerated.
[1] Sarah Zielinski, “Hypatia, Ancient Alexandria’s Great Female Scholar,” Smithsonian Magazine, March 14, 2010, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/hypatia-ancient-alexandrias-great-female-scholar-10942888/.
[2] Islam Issa, Alexandria (New York, Penguin Books, 2024), pgs. 223 – 231.
[3] Socrates Scholasticus, “Epitome of the Ecclesiastical History of Philostorgius”, Compiled by Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople (1855) translated by Edward Walford.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Michael A. B. Deakin, “Hypatia and Her Mathematics,” The American Mathematical Monthly 101, no. 3 (1994), pg. 234, https://doi.org/10.2307/2975600.
[6] Zielinski, ibid.
[7] Deakin, pg. 237.
[8] Richeson, A. W, “Hypatia of Alexandria,” National Mathematics Magazine 15, no. 2 (1940), pg. 79 – 80, https://doi.org/10.2307/3028426.
[9] Zielinski, ibid.
[10] Issa, pg. 233.
[11] Deakin, pg. 241.
[12] Issa, pg. 233.
[13] Socrates Scholasticus, ibid.
[14] Richeson, pg. 80.
[15] Christian Wildberg, “Neoplatonism”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2021 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2021/entries/neoplatonism/.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Zielinski, ibid.
[18] Richeson, pg. 75.
[19] Issa, pg. 234.
[20] Ibid.
[21] Issa, pg. 230 – 231.
[22] Socrates Scholasticus, ibid.
[23] Zielinski, ibid.
[24] Issa, pg. 237.