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Social roles and gender in the Roman world

  • Writer: Centurion
    Centurion
  • Feb 28
  • 7 min read

Author: Hatch, J., (2007), “Social Roles and Gender in the Roman World”, first published in The Imperial Courier, Volume 2, Issue 12, THE RMRS, pp. 6-8.


Introduction Gender may be defined as either of the two sexes (female and male), especially when considered with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones. The term is also used more broadly to denote a range of identities that do not correspond to established ideas of male and female. Habitually the modern preference is to divide humanity into two sexes, but this would have seemed strange to many Romans. Simone de Beauvoir’s famous dictum that “one is not born a woman, but rather becomes one” may be much closer to Roman thinking. The concepts of gender in the Roman world was more intimately bound with notions of social identity and, through this, the relationships of power. Slaves, for example, were “genderless” according to Roman law as it made no distinction between male and female slaves.


To better explain Roman thinking, let us first look at the infamous case of Boudicca, beginning with trying to envisage the “woman” behind the centuries of myths and legends. Boudicca, wife of Prasutagus chief of the Iceni tribe who had been established as a client king of Rome after AD 47, was herself descended from a royal house, although which one is not recorded. Boudicca was believed to be in her thirties when her husband died. To retain a modicum of Icenian independence, Prausutagus had bequeathed his estate jointly to his two daughters and the Emperor Nero. It is important, for the purposes of distinguishing social norms, that there was never any suggestion Boudicca had no right to her husband’s throne in her own name, as far as the Britons were concerned. As Lindsay Allason-Jones writes: “Nor did she subsequently claim the throne for herself but acted on behalf of her daughters, whose rights were recognised by the Iceni, if not by the Romans” (Allason-Jones, 1998).


The version of events reported by Tacitus has Boudicca herself saying that the Britons were used to women leaders and implying that while the British men might be happy to settle for enslavement, at the end of the day, she would suffer a far nobler fate. A woman leading in a war would remind Tacitus’ readers of the Amazons whom, as far as the Romans were concerned, were as far from being civilised as was possible. While Tacitus considered the Britons a contrary people, doing everything the opposite of Rome, he does record Boudicca’s suicide in defeat as a parallel to that of Poenius Postumus, legate of Legio II Augusta. After the Roman victory, the latter’s refusal to reinforce his colleagues was considered a dishonour necessitating Postumus’ own suicide. By making this connection, Tacitus is effectively blurring the accepted Roman distinction between male and female. Likewise, in his later account, Cassius Dio also drew attention to this dichotomy commenting that the disaster of the rebellion had an extra shame for the Romans as it was perpetrated by a woman. Interestingly. he softens Roman humiliation by permitting Boudicca to be an exceptional woman in terms of spirit and looks: “In stature she was very tall and grim in appearance, with a piercing gaze and a harsh voice”. Dio’s description reverberates with the veiled suggestion that Boudicca was very masculine in her bearing.


From each of the literary portraits of Boudicca, we begin to see how and why they have been carefully constructed by the writer. In Tacitus’ Annales (“Annals”), for example, the wider background themes deal with justice and the proper practices of an ordered society. While extolling liberty and servitude, Tacitus warns of the abuse of such ideals and the predictable violent consequences. n doing so, he espouses what constitutes civilization and barbarity. Tacitus portrays Boudicca as a sympathetic victim, wanting nothing more than to avenge the injustices inflicted upon her, her daughters and her community, and is perceptive enough to point out that Boudicca is not just a queen but also a wife wronged by the worst parts of Roman imperialism. He stresses the unrestrained and disproportionate nature of Roman violence and raises questions for his readers on just who was the “civilized society” during these events. Tacitus seemingly links Roman political themes into this clearly British setting by minimizing the “native” element in his picture of the Icenian queen. Yet, Boudicca’s speech to her troops before the battle is an obvious plot device to explain how normal it was for women to lead Britons to war. Her actions, although unexpected by the Romans, uphold rather than transgress the social norms for a British woman.


More typical than the Boudiccan example of how Romans perceived gender is revealed by a celebrated tombstone originally set up outside the Roman fort at South Shields in north-east England. It records a British woman called Regina (“Queenie”), who originally came from south-east England, and a man called Barates, who came from Palmyra in Syria. Regina was a slave, but Barates freed her and married her, and when she died aged 30, had this expensive tombstone made for her (see right).


To the spirits of the departed. Regina, a freedwoman and wife. A Catuvellaunian aged 30. Barates of Palmyra [set this up].”

[in Palmyrene beneath the Latin inscription]

Regina, the freedwoman of Barates, alas


The complex image depicts Regina, adorned with bracelets and wearing a necklace, sitting in a high-backed chair, her distaff and spindle in her lap, a wool basket by her left side, and with her right hand she holds open a jewel box. The image is highly symbolic of the archetypal Roman matron and of traditional values - the distaff and spindle suggestive of homespun clothes (although in reality, it is unlikely that higher status Romans made their own clothes).


Of singular importance for understanding gender and social roles is the bilingual inscription revealing a cultural interaction in Roman Britain and its impact on identity. As a Catuvellaunian, a member of the tribe, whose name means “good in battle”, which principally resisted Caesar and the Claudian invasion, Regina would have been born near Verulamium (modern St Albans). Why she was a slave in the late 2nd-century AD, to when the tombstone is dated, is unclear? Perhaps she was the daughter of a slave or was abandoned by her parents.


Despite the practice being against the law, it is entirely possible that Regina was sold into slavery by her parents. Evidence from across the Empire suggests that this was a common practice for families to sell their daughters if they could not afford to raise them. Apart from providing relief for poverty-stricken families, it may also have been felt worth the risk where a young girl might attract her master’s attention who, hopefully, might then free and marry her. Submission to enslavement is similarly evidenced in post-Roman Gaul where people in debt could place themselves in bondage until the debt was paid off - the origin of serfdom. Interestingly, the inscription offers no clue that Regina obtained Roman citizenship on her manumission and, given her husband’s single name, lends weight to the suggestion that he also was not a Roman citizen. If Barates, as his own tombstone states, was an iterant seller of flags serving the far-flung outposts of the Empire, it is quite reasonable that Regina shared his hard life on the road. With no explicit mention of children, the fact she is buried in the manner of a Roman matrona offers several interpretive possibilities. Perhaps she aspired to such status, but never achieved it in life. Perhaps Barates sought to honour his beloved wife by providing a memorial befitting a high-status Roman matron in recognition of her aspiration. Perhaps, the couple genuinely achieved the social status depicted or perhaps Barates was conventionally pious and followed the norms of his age. Or perhaps, the monumental mason carved a standard tombstone following the expected or locally conventions for women in Arbeia, providing her family could afford it.


Regina’s tombstone certainly indicates the cultural diversity present in Roman Britain. Here we see a British woman from St. Albans, born of the Catuvellauni, married to a merchant from Palmyra and eventually buried in a Roman style tomb. As neither Regina nor Barates were citizens, it is indicative of people from all over the Empire choosing to become “Roman” while preserving their own cultural traditions - the final part of the inscription written in Barates’ mother tongue is a perfect example.


The contrasting examples of Boudicca and Regina offer useful insights into Roman views of gender and social roles. Regina’s tombstone portrays a paragon of Roman virtue, albeit while preserving her cultural identity. Boudicca, on the other hand, is represented as the barbarian who does not accept Roman ways and is, therefore, an outsider.


In this brief look, we can begin to appreciate that “gender…speaks constantly in the languages of age, status, ethnicity, and they in the language of gender; it exists only and always in relation to other social categories. And power can only be understood as it is generated through these complexes of categories” (Kampen, 1996, p 14). As with modern perceptions, social identity in the Roman world was an intricate matter; people defined themselves with multi-faceted aspects, influencing their family, friends and associates in many synchronized ways. “Male”, “female”, “Roman” and “Briton” are all relative terms without an essentially fixed nature and their definition was reliant on an individual’s role in society and their subsequent behaviour. So, it is not surprising that if Longinus from Bulgaria can be styled a Roman soldier on his memorial, then the barbarian “Queen” Boudicca can be portrayed as acting with greater respect and masculinity than her Roman opponents.

 

References:


Allason-Jones, L., (1998), “Women in Roman Britain”, British Museum Publications.


Kampen, N.G., (1996), “Gender theory in Roman Art”, in Kleiner, D.E. and Matheson, S.B. (Eds), “I Claudia: Women in Ancient Rome”, New Haven, Conn. Yale University Art Gallery.

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