80 Gays Around the World: Part 6) Greek Beauties

Last time on “80 Gays”: 15) Father Markus Furhman (b.1971) became the first openly gay Franciscan “bishop” after ministering in Cologne, home of the alleged relics of the Three Kings, 16) Caspar, 17) Melchior, and 18) Balthazar, the latter’s gift to the Baby Jesus traditionally being myrrh, an aromatic resin from a plant named after the mother of 18) Adonis.

The name of 18) Adonis has become a byword for male physical beauty. With the ancient Greeks putting so much emphasis on same-sex activity in the training of athletes and soldiers, it comes as no surprise that Adonis was the sexual partner of both male and female deities.

As a young teenager Adonis was the lover of two Greek gods with many gay connections of their own – Apollo (who features many times on this blog), and Dionysos (also featured several times).

Perhaps Adonis’s most well-known lover was the goddess 19) Aphrodite. It may seem strange that the goddess of love and feminine beauty should have some queer connections, but in this other “Star-Gayzing” entry I point out the dual nature of Aphrodite’s sexuality. There I explain how her birth from the severed genitals of Uranus led her to become a kind of patron goddess of same-sex couples.

At the beginning of this series of “80 Gays” I commented that a lot of botanical connections cropped up. Last time I mentioned how Adonis’s mother Myrrha gave her name to the plant myrrh. Another plant connection comes in one of the annual festivals in Athens called Adonia, which was named after him. This was a female-only festival. Women would go up onto their rooves, singing and dancing, mourning the death of Adonis. On the roof they planted lettuce and fennel seeds into pottery sherds (both plants were considered to be aphrodisiacs – there’s Aphrodite’s name again), which they called Gardens of Adonis. The women then went down into the streets and formed a procession which went to the sea shore (or a stream, it varied depending on how far away they lived from the sea), and buried, or planted, the “gardens” along with little effigies of Adonis.

Aphrodite’s floral connection also involves a garden. This time it comes in the form of one of her patronages. Aphrodite was the patron god of vegetation and fertility, and thus she was known as Aphrodite of the Gardens. There was a shrine and sanctuary to her under this name near the Acropolis in Athens. There were two statues of her, one of which was a herm.

Herm is the term given to a tall square or rectangular column with a carved head (and sometimes a torso) at the top, with a carved penis at the proportional height sticking out of the square column. The Aphrodite herm had her head at the top and a penis further down. There’s a herm statue of Aphrodite in the national museum in Stockholm, Sweden, which depicts her as fully female from the waist upwards. She is holding her dress up to reveal a square column underneath with a penis.

It is from herm statues like this that Aphrodite evolved into a separate deity – 21) Aphroditus.

Historically, Aphroditus was probably based on an earlier deity in Cyprus. Once the cult of Aphroditus made it to Greece it was assimilated into that of Aphrodite Urania, the goddess of spiritual love. What makes things more complicated is that some modern websites confuse Aphroditus with the more familiar 22) Hermaphroditus,

The more I read about both Aphroditus and Hermaphroditus the more I realise that they are not the same. I think that the confusion comes from “herm” in Hermaphrodite, and the fact that the name Aphroditus was first used in reference to herm statues of Aphrodite. Hermaphroditus seems to be a later addition to the pantheon of Greek deities. I wrote about both Aphroditus and Hermaphroditus several years ago (see here), so I won’t go into it in detail here. Suffice it to say that in the later Roman period the image of Hermaphroditus as intersex developed from Greek myths about him being the son of Aphrodite and Hermes, a god not really “invented” until a century or two after the first herm statues of Aphrodite were made. If you’re not already confused, Hermes got his name from originally being a herm statue.

But let’s get back to Aphrodite. As well as two statues of her near the Acropolis as Aphrodite of the Gardens (one of which had male genitalia, remember), the goddess had another temple and shrine in Athens dedicated to her as Aphrodite Urania, the goddess of spiritual love.

The temple was in the agora, the inner-city public square and meeting place. In the sanctuary was a statue of her made by a famous sculptor called Phidias (no. 8 in the 2020 “80 Gays” series). I’ll return to Phidias in a later entry in this current series.

Whenever ancient Athens is mentioned Adonis and Aphrodite are not the first names that spring to mind, Athena is, of course. Another thing that springs to mind is the founding of Greek democracy. So it is not surprising that on the other side of the agora there were once statues of the couple who are regarded as being the people who inspired the creation of Athenian democracy. They were 23) Harmodius and 24) Aristogeiton.

Next time: We carry a torch against tyranny, untangle a gay “incestuous” dynasty, and remove a few statues.

(Not Quite) 80 Gays Around the World: Part 5) Monks, Monarchs and Myrrh

Last time on (Not Quite) 80 Gays: The Art Workshop International was founded by 12) Bea Kreloff (1925-2016) and 13) Edith Isaac Rose (1929-2018) in Assisi, a city famous as the home of 14) St. Francis of Assisi (c.1187-1226), founder of the Franciscan order of friars who, in 2022, elected its first openly gay “bishop” 15) Markus Fuhrmann (b.1971).

There are two points I need to clear up. First, despite the title, friars are not monks. Basically, monks keep themselves to themselves in a monastery, while friars go out and minister among the outside community. I thought “monks” worked better in the title than “friars”.

Second, the Franciscan order of friars does not have bishops. That is the term I used because it is the most recognisable term used for someone of a comparable position in other Christian churches. Technically, all Franciscan friars are of equal position. Those elected to take overall charge of the affairs of the global Franciscan order (like an archbishop under the ultimate authority of the Pope) is called the Minister General. The world is divided into provinces (the equivalent of dioceses), and the friar elected to oversee each province is called a Minister Provincial (the equivalent of a bishop).

In June 2022, members of the chapter of the province of St. Elizabeth, the German “diocese”, gathered in Ohrbeck near Osnabruck to, amongst other things, elect their new Minister Provincial in succession to Father Cornelius Bohd, who had served his full term of office. The chapter elected 15) Father Markus Fuhrmann (b.1971). Just a few weeks beforehand he had come out as gay.

I wrote about the Franciscan stance on homosexuality last time on “80 Gays”. The issue of homosexuality in the Catholic Church was among several issues discussed in the Synodale Weg, or Synodal Way, a series of conferences held between 2019 and 2023 by the Catholic Church in Germany. Father Markus had always been a supporter of the Synodal Way and of changing some of the Church’s antiquated and corrupt practices, as was his predecessor. Needless to say, the Synodal Way attracted a lot of criticism from within and outside the Catholic Church in Germany.

Official logo the Synodal Way

During all of this controversy Father Markus came out as gay. He was not just an ordinary friar at the time. He was the Vicar Provincial (the next level down from a Minister Provincial) to his predecessor. Just as there was criticism about aspects of the Synodal Way, so there was criticism of Father Markus’s election. The fact that the province of St. Elizabeth elected an openly gay man as their guiding minister must mean that there is a change beginning to happen in the Catholic Church, at least in Germany.

Father Markus is the third Minister Provincial of St. Elizabeth Province. The province itself is relatively new, having been formed by the merger in 2010 of several smaller provinces. Prior to this, Father Markus was a pastor to the homeless in Cologne, the city at the centre of one of the former smaller provinces, the Province of Cologne and the Three Kings.

There’s a Christmas connection here. The Three Kings refer to those in the Bible story of the birth of Christ. But what are they doing in Cologne, you might be asking? The short story is that Cologne cathedral houses their reputed remains. They were brought there by Emperor Frederick Barbarossa from Milan. Before Milan they were in Constantinople, having been taken there by Emperor Constantine the Great’s mother in the 4th century. She had found them in the Holy Land. No-one today really believes they are genuine, but they help to focus the faith of devout Christians.

I’ve written before about the Three Kings. In my Advent series in 2019 I mentioned how modern scholarship is beginning to look at the Three Kings in a historical context. The earliest translations of the Bible didn’t refer to them as kings. This is a rank assigned to them in the Middles Ages to emphasise their status as important representatives from their countries, and because of several prophecies in the Old Testament.

It is speculated that the kings were in fact priests or astrologers. Taking into account that they are said to have come from “the east” suggests that they came from the areas now covered by Iran, Iraq and Syria. During the time of the birth of Christ these areas predominantly practised the Zoroastrian faith. It is widely believed that their priests were most often either androgynous, intersex, transgender or eunuch.

So, the Three Kings weren’t kings. We don’t know their names either. People of the middle ages liked to give names to anonymous characters in the Bible (such as Simeon Bachos). We still do it. We give names to things that don’t have them (children, genders, nations, inventions, animals, asteroids, etc.). Over the centuries the Three Kings have been given many names. Different early church communities gave different names, and some even said there were more than three kings. So, if other churches had been more influential we may be calling the kings by names such as Eshtanbozon, Zual, or Walastar.

The names that we are more familiar with today first appeared in the 6th century in a famous mosaic in the Basilica of Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy. There, above images of the kings, are versions of the names which became the most universal – 15) Caspar, 16) Melchoir) and 17) Balthasar. Another reason why we assume there were three of them is because they brought three gifts, one each – gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Two of these gifts puzzled me as a child. They probably puzzled you as well. Gold is obvious, a precious gift. But what about the others? Frankincense is just incense, also a precious substance at the time and often presented to kings.

We can’t tell much about myrrh from its name, unless you know that is a resinous substance obtained from a thorny tree of the same name. It is used as a perfume, but also in embalming. Its significance as a gift to Christ is to represent His mortality as the only part of the Holy Trinity who could actually die.

The name myrrh is of Semetic origin and means “bitter”. It entered other eastern nations and languages, including ancient Greece. There a myth was created to explain the myrrh tree’s origin. It tells of a girl called Myrrha who fell in love with her father and tricked him into having sex with her, resulting in her pregnancy. Myrrha became remorseful and went into self-imposed exile. She begged the gods to help her out of her situation and they turned her into the tree that bears her name. As for the unborn child, the gods decided to release the child from the tree. This child grew up to be associated with sex, beauty, and fertility and have various gender-fluid relationships. His name was 19) Adonis.

Next time on (Not Quite) 80 Gays: We step into a garden and play some games.

(Not Quite) 80 Gays Around the World: 1) Love in the Stars

This time last year I began researching for the next edition of my “Around the World in 80 Gays” series. It was my intention to have it complete and ready for serialisation this year. However, the Beijing Winter Olympics and Birmingham Commonwealth Games slowed down that research because of an explosion of interest and inclusion in competing lgbt+ athletes at both events. Between them these games provided almost a hundred new names to research and catalogue.

By the end of last year I decided that I had done enough research on “80 Gays” to produce a shortened version, “(Not Quite) 80 Gays Around the World” Not every part of the serialisation has been written, and I am trying to expand it with more names as I go along, so I can’t say for sure how many names I will end up with.

The format will remain the same as in previous editions. Each individual will be numbered so that you (and I) can keep track of how far through the list of names we are. The first three names are of people we’ve encountered before on this blog and they are all connected by love relationships, which is quite appropriate considering yesterday was what is popularly and mistakenly celebrated as St. Valentine’s Day (see here to discover why it’s the wrong St. Valentine and the wrong date). So without further ado, here’s the new “Around the World in (Not Quite) 80 Gays.

1) The Roman Emperor Hadrian (76-138) is one of the more well-known of the gay emperors. Last year we celebrated the 1900th anniversary of his visit to Britain and the construction of the famous wall named after him.

It was on his continuing travels around his empire after laving Britain that Hadrian is believed to have first met the young 2) Antinuos (c.111-c.130) in Claudiopolis (now called Bolu, a city in northern Turkey). It is assumed that Antinous was born in the area.

If estimates of Antinous’s birth are correct he would have been no more than 12 years old when he and Hadrian met 1900 years ago in 123. Hadrian, who was in his 40s, was a big fan of Greek culture, so taking Antinous as a boy lover would not strike him as being questionable, unlike it would today. Even so, there were many critics of Hadrian’s lifestyle who thought the relationship was morally wrong. One of the theories concerning Antinous’s mysterious early death in the River Nile is based on this criticism, that it was a murder to ensure the relationship stopped for good. Other theories include accidental death, political assassination, ritual sacrifice, and suicide.

Hadrian’s grief at the death of his young lover, who was not yet 20 years old, was overwhelming. Back in 2011, in the first of my “Star Gayzing” series (was it really that long ago?) I mentioned some of the tributes Hadrian created for Antinous. In that article I concentrated on the constellation Hadrian “created” and how this was to show Antinous as a new 3) Ganymede.

Ganymede was also a youth who became the lover of an older man, in this case the god Zeus. He became a very popular subject in art during ancient and classical Greece, and also from the Renaissance through to the present day. Both Antinous and Ganymede were immortalised as constellations, with Ganymede becoming Aquarius. Both young men have been inspirations for gay men’s organisations and brotherhoods, and both were deified after their deaths by their lovers. Because of Ganymede’s greater and longer significance he has more statues and images than of Antinous. He remains more prominent in modern gay male culture.

There are many directions I could take from Ganymede in our “Not Quite 80 Gays” journey, but the one I have chosen is through literature, after all, the Greek myths are only known to us through ancient writings.

The modern publication which will take us further is called “An Asian Minor: The True Story of Ganymede” by an American author called 4) Felice Picano (b.1944), and we will learn more about him and his works in a few weeks’ time.

Happy New Year, Baby

Now that we’ve come to the end of another year we are bombarded with babies! New Year babies, that is. There’s actually a gay connection between the New Year baby and Santa Claus, and it comes in the work of artist J. C. Leyendecker (1874-1951).

A couple of years ago I wrote about how J. C. Leyendecker was responsible for making our modern image of Santa Claus the one that prevailed over the many others that were around at the beginning of the 20th century. As a leading cover illustrator for the “Saturday Evening Post” he also helped to popularise the New Year baby.

Leyendecker didn’t invent the New Year baby. In fact, its roots seem to go back to ancient Greece and another queer character I’ve written about a few times on this blog – the Greek god Dionysos.

There’s no real continuity of use to prove that Dionysos was the original New Year baby. Other cultures and faiths have similar New Year traditions associated with the new-born that developed independently. In the end, all these various traditions may simply be a universal concept in humanity, simply associating babies with rebirth of the year or seasons.

The Greek historian Diodorus Siculus wrote that Dionysos had two forms, an ancient one and a later one. Consequently, there are different versions of his birth and childhood. The ancient Dionysos was the son of Zeus and either Persephone or Demeter. In this form he was also called Zagreus, and it was in this form that he distracted Prometheus from his creation of humanity. You can read what consequences this had on humanity’s gender here. This Dionysos claimed the throne of Zeus and the Titans tore him to pieces. Zeus then took the dismembered body and put it into a drink which he gave to Princess Semele of Thebes. Semele became pregnant and consequently she gave birth to the second Dionysos.

In this second incarnation Dionysos was raised as a girl to hide him from Hera, Zeus’s wife. As a result Dionysos was often depicted in adulthood dressed as a woman. Members of the cult which developed around him included the Pleiades, the patrons of drag queens.

So, the death and rebirth of Dionysos became symbolic of the death of the Old Year and birth of the New Year. Greek towns would parade a new-born baby through the streets every New Year in commemoration of Dionysos. Whether this is the direct reason why the New Year Baby is so popular today is unknowable. As I said earlier, it may be common throughout history. It is an obvious concept, after all. Anyone, anywhere, anytime could have thought about it. One particularly unsettling aspect of these Greek New Year babies, however, is the common practice in Greek culture of abandoning any physically deformed new born baby to die.

The 19th century seems to have been the period when the New Year Baby acquired its current popularity. Before then it appeared sporadically. With the invention of Christmas cards in 1842 the baby became more visible. The figure of Old father Time was already more well-known in the UK, so it was a natural process of pairing him up with the New Year Baby on Christmas and New Year greetings cards.

In the US the New Year Baby became more popular through the “The Saturday Evening Post”. This is solely down to the work of J. C. Leyendecker. He was the most prolific front cover artist for the Post and was always trying to find ways to celebrate various special occasions, hence the Santa we know today. In 1906 Leyendecker designed the first of 37 consecutive New Year covers, all featuring a baby or winged cherub. You can see here an article which shows all of them in sequence. At the top is his cover for 1923, this New Year’s centenary cover.

One of the fashionable traditions which occurs from place to place is the celebration of the first baby to be born after the chimes of midnight on New Year’s Day (particularly in places where January 1st is New Year’s Day). Needless to say, there are many of them around the world, and the lgbtq community has quite a few. So, to end with, here’s a selection of lgbtq New Year babies.

Pope Alexander VI (1431-1503).

Maurice Béjart (1927-2007), French dancer and choreographer.

C. Jay Cox (b.1962), US film director and screenwriter.

Eloy de la Iglesia (1949-2006), Spanish film director.

E. M. Forster (1879-1970), UK author and novelist.

Lafe Fowler (1959-2002), Deputy Sheriff of San Francisco, USA.

J. Edgar Hoover (1895-1972), Director of the FBI.

James Hormel (1933-2021), US Ambassador and philanthropist.

Michael Howells (1957-2018), UK film and tv production designer.

Magdalen Hsu-Li (b.1970), US singer-songwriter and activist.

Michael Kearns (b.1970), US actor and activist.

Frans Kellendonk (1951-1990), Dutch novelist.

Peter Lankhorst (b.1947), Member of the Dutch parliament.

Albert Mol (1917-2004), Dutch actor and dancer.

Joe Orton (1933-1967), UK playwright and author.

Akil Patterson (b.1983), former US athlete, youth advocate.

Katherine Philips (1631-1664), English poet.

Austin Scarlett (b.1983), US fashion designer.

Ellen Shub (1948-2019), US photographer.

Joey Stefano (1968-1994), US gay porn actor.

W. Scott Thompson (1942-2017), US political scientist.

Nahum Zenil (b.1947), Mexican artist.

Richard Zimler (b.1956), US historical novelist.

So, Happy Birthday to everyone whose birthday is on 1st January, and to everyone else Happy New Year.

Dancing With the Spartans

Not long to go now before the Tokyo Olympics, so I thought I’d take a look at another of the many ancient Greek competitive festivals that I write about now and again.

Our modern period of late June and early July was the first month of the Spartan year. As such it was regarded as something special and the Spartans celebrated with a festival called Gymnopaedia. It was one of their most important festivals and, like the others, was marked with contests of physical prowess.

The Gymnopaedia is thought to have originated in about the year 668 BC. It was held in honour of the god Apollo (whose love affair with the Spartan Prince Hyakinthos gave rise to the Hyakinthia festival), as well as Artemis (goddess of the hunt and Apollo’s sister) and Leto (their mother).

Just a few years before the Gymnopaedia began, perhaps only a generation of two, Sparta had introduced pederasty – boy-love – as a social norm in their society. There’s a danger of confusing Spartan and Greek pederasty with the modern concept of homosexuality. For the Spartans, and the other Greek cultures that adopted it later, pederasty was part of a boy’s rite of passage into adulthood. Once a man (usually a soldier or athlete) had chosen one boy to mentor and assist in his progression through puberty and into adulthood with regular sex, the emotional bond of friendship that was formed would (or should) remain for the rest of their lives.

The very name Gymnopaedia probably illustrates its sexual nature. The name comes from the two Greek words “gymnos”, meaning naked, and “paedia”, meaning youth. Literally, “naked youth”. As was common in the festivals across Greece, contestants competed naked. Some historians have speculated that the Gymnopaedia became the most popular means by which Spartan men chose who was to be their boy-lovers. Another theory about the name is that contestants competed without arms or weapons.

To regard the Gymnopaedia as a sports festival like the modern Olympics will be only half correct. Originally there were no athletic contests – running, wrestling, chariot racing, that sort of thing. The focus was on choreographed war dances and songs. If a comparison has to be made, think of these performances as the ancient equivalent of rhythmic gymnastics, ironically, a sport (with synchronised swimming) in which there is no equivalent competition in the modern Olympics for men. Men are banned from these sports, yet women are banned from none – proof that the IOC’s claim of gender equality is hypocrisy.

The main dances of the Gymnopaedia were performed by boys up to the age of about 15. These boys would have already undergone some military training for several years. Their movements would mimic military stances, like the action of throwing a spear or wielding a sword. The movements were designed specifically to show off the boy’s physical appearance and grace. The military songs that accompanied them would tell of the heroic deeds of their ancestors and the gods. At other venues around Sparta other dances were performed by older age groups and men. These were more of a celebratory nature and not as competitive as the boys’ dances.

A bas relief showing soldiers performing what is known as a pyrrhic dance, a dance similar to that performed at the Gymnopaedia. This relief dates from the 1st century BC but is based on one from the 4th century BC. It is currently on display in the Vatican Museum.

Over the centuries more music, dances and athletic contests were added and the whole festival began to stretch over a week long. It became increasingly popular, not only with the Spartans but with other Greeks who came to watch as well – men only, of course, because women weren’t allowed to watch or compete. There was another group who weren’t allowed to watch. These were the agamoi, unmarried men over the age of 30. You can find out why in this article I wrote last year about the Spartan harvest festival, the Karneia.

The competitors were divided into groups with each area of Sparta represented by a team. Even though all participants in the Gymnopaedia were naked the team leaders were allowed to wear something – a crown of palm leaves. This is said to have been in honour of the Spartan victory at the Battle of Thyrea in 546 BC, an event which was often praised during the war songs. Although it has no real lgbt connection, other than the Spartan combatants had boy-lovers, the story of the battle is quite interesting.

The battle is also known as the Battle of the 300 Champions. This may remind you of the famous film about Spartans called “300”. The connection is tenuous – the battle got its name because each side, the Spartans and the Argives, decided that only 300 of their best soldiers should fight to the death. The last man standing was the victor.

The battle began at around mid-day. By dusk two Argive soldiers stood on the battlefield, looking around them at the carnage of 598 bodies around them. They limped back to their camp and claimed victory. However, back on the battlefield, one severely wounded Spartan soldier was still alive. He managed to rise to his feet and stagger back to his camp. The Spartans then claimed victory. The Argives were very angry and refused to accept that their victory had been disputed. They attacked the Spartans, who thrashed the Argives and sent them back home. The Spartans celebrated with their usual victory games.

The film “300” was about the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC. The Spartan leader was played by Gerard Butler. Let’s link “300” to the modern Olympics. On 13th March 2020, during the 2,500th anniversary year of the battle, Gerard Butler took part in the Olympic torch relay before it was stopped due to the covid pandemic. He ran with the torch into the centre of Sparta itself, lit the ceremonial cauldron and shouted his famous line “This is Sparta!” Sadly, he didn’t run naked like the ancient Greeks would have done in their various torch relays.

And with that I’ll leave ancient Greece and look forward to Tokyo 2020. Next Thursday I’ll preview the games with an overview of the known lgbt athletes who will be competing and a few comparisons to previous games. I’ll also look at the returning Olympians and how they stand in the all-time lgbt medal table. Two weeks after that I’ll look at the Tokyo results and see which of them rise and which of them fell in the table, and which Olympic newcomers made their mark.

What a Way To Go!

The covid pandemic has made a lot of us think about death more often, especially, as in my case, close members of your family have passed away in the last twelve months. Most of us hope for a peaceful and painless death but some are less fortunate. Some of the most horrific deaths have been caused by war, murder or natural accident. The lgbt community still suffers murderous attacks because of our genders and sexual identities.

There’ll never be an appropriate time to ignore death and it’s more ironic and unusual causes, those that are so weird, bizarre or unique that they stand out. No doubt you’ve heard of the Darwin Awards. Named after Charles Darwin these are imaginary awards given to people who, through their own mistakes, have removed themselves from the human gene pool permanently.

Below are examples of unusual causes of deaths in the lgbt community. Not all of them qualify for a Darwin Award but are no less notable. With one exception I am excluding murders and suicides that were deliberate or premeditated.

Sir Francis Bacon, 1st Viscount St. Alban (1561-1626) – statesman, scientist and philosopher. Perhaps Bacon’s death is one of the most famous Darwin Awards, despite it being questioned in recent years. It was Bacon’s scientific curiosity that led to his demise. On a cold and snowy afternoon in March 1626 Bacon was riding in his carriage just outside London when he had an idea. Could snow preserve meat? So, he stopped the carriage and obtained a dead chicken for a nearby household (most people kept chickens in those days) and began stuffing and packing it with snow. I suppose he took the chicken back home with him to observe the effects, but he never got to find out if he was right. He caught a chill which soon developed into bronchitis and he died about a week later.

Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687) – French composer, pioneer of modern opera and military bands. Lully was Master of the King’s Music to Louis XIV of France. In those days the conductor of an orchestra didn’t wave a baton around. They kept time by tapping a staff on the floor (orchestras were quite small in those days so musicians could easily see and hear the staff tapping). This staff evolved into the big ornamental staffs that leaders of marching bands carry today. In late 1686 King Louis XIV recovered from surgery and Lully decided to celebrate by organising a performance of his “Te Deum”. During a rehearsal he stabbed himself in the foot with his conducting staff. Blood poisoning and gangrene set in and he died. This cause of death, like that of Sir Francis Bacon’s, has been questioned in recent years.

Arrhichion (d.564 BC) – Olympic champion in the sport of pankration, a mixture of boxing and wrestling in which virtually anything goes. Arrhichion was a native of the city of Phigalia. Like all ancient Greek athletes he would undoubtedly have become the boy-lover of an older athlete during his training and took a boy-lover of his own when he got older. At the 52nd Olympic Games in 572 BC he became champion for the first time. He successfully defended his title at the next games and was hot favourite to win it three times in a row. He made it to his third Olympic final in 564 BC. His opponent, whose name we don’t know, got the upper hand in the final round. He wrapped his legs around Arrhichion and put him in a strangle hold. Arrhichion managed to free one of his legs and trapped his opponent’s foot behind his knee. He twisted his leg so sharply that his opponent was in so much agony that he surrendered. Arrhichion had won his third title. Unfortunately, by this time he had lost consciousness due to the strangle hold and died. The victor’s wreath was placed on his dead body. Incidentally, the oldest known statue of an Olympic champion is believed to be of Arrhichion. It is currently on display at the museum at Olympia.

Tiberius, Emperor of Rome (42 BC- 37 AD) died twice – sort of. This is the exception to my “no premeditated murder” rule. Despite being emperor he lived his final years in semi-retirement at his villa on Capri. There he allegedly trained young boys to nibble at bits of him when he went swimming! He was an old man by this time, and as he was approaching his 78th birthday he began to show signs that he was dying. Courtiers gathered around his bed and watched him breathe his last breath. At the villa was Caligula and the courtiers wasted no time in proclaiming him the new emperor. Meanwhile, Tiberius began to revive! Reports of what happened next vary but they all agree on one thing. To ensure that Caligula was the legal emperor someone smothered Tiberius with his own bedclothes. This time they made sure he was dead.

Pietro Aretino (1492-1556) was an Italian satirist, playwright, blackmailer and self-proclaimed sodomite. He was once described as the Father of Pornographic Literature. His death, like that of Tiberius, has several variations but the ultimate cause is the same in all of them. One account says that he was at a party hosted by his sister when someone told a very risqué or rude joke. Pietro laughed so much that he couldn’t breathe. He fell backwards off his chair and smashed his head on the floor. Whether is was his inability to breathe or his head smashing on the floor that caused his death at least he died with a smile on his face.

The same cannot be said of Isadora Duncan (1877-1727), the bisexual American dancer and dance teacher whose death is one of the most well-known in the theatrical world. She was staying in the south of France and accepted a lift in an open-topped car. One of her friends advised her to put on a coat because the evening was a bit chilly, but Isadora refused, preferring instead to wear a long scarf. As the car sped away the flowing end of the scarf got caught in the spokes of a rear wheel and yanked Isadora from the back seat, throwing her onto the road, breaking her neck.

I’m sure none of us would like to endure these death, except perhaps Pietro Aretino’s. The world will never be short of unusual deaths as long as there is an infinite number of possibilities of passing away. I hope I “meet my maker” in the same manner as my grandfather – peacefully in bed at the age of 101.

Star-Gayzing: The Drag Queen's Crown

Most of the myths and legends concerning the origins of the constellations come from ancient Greece. The majority of those I’ve covered on this blog have been Greek. Today we look at yet another one.

Some of the most famous and popular Greek gods and heroes – Zeus, Apollo, Herakles/Hercules, etc. – have several constellations associated with them. One of the others, whose name doesn’t often spring to mind immediately when asked to name the Greek gods, is Dionysos. He was the god of wine, vegetation, fertility, pleasure, mischief, parties – and drag queens.

I’ve mentioned Dionysos twice before in relation to the stars. First was his association with Virgo, in particular with the star Vindematrix. This name means “grape gatherer” and its rise in the sky signalled the start of the grape harvest. The other constellation with Dionysos connections is Taurus, or more specifically the group of stars within it called the Pleiades. These stars were named after the seven daughters of Atlas who, as I mentioned in the article about them, seem to have been the patron deities of drag queens. Briefly, without going through it all again, ancient astrologers believed that the Pleiades influenced the worshippers of Dionysos, turning them into what the ancient writer Manilius described as someone remarkably similar to a modern day drag queen. In mythology the Pleiades raised Dionysos and disguised him as a girl to protect him from the wrath of Hera, the ever-jealous wife of Dionysos’s father Zeus.

So, what about that drag queen’s crown, you may be asking? Well, the constellation of Corona Borealis is said to represent a crown given by Dionysos to one of his lovers. Not one of his male lovers but a female one called Princess Ariadne of Crete. This princess may be familiar to you from the legend of Theseus and the Minotaur. In the main variation of the myth, the most familiar one, Theseus and Ariadne got married after the Minotaur was defeated and they returned to Athens, Theseus’ home. Apparently, the marriage wasn’t a very good one and legends vary on who left who (or is it who left whom? I’m never sure about my grammar). Whichever partner it was who deserted the other first, Ariadne ended up being courted by Dionysos who had always wanted to get her into bed with her. Again, the myths vary here. The crown was either given by Dionysos as a symbol of his love before they got married, or a gift to Ariadne on their wedding day.

There’s yet another version of the myth. Theseus had not entered the labyrinth to confront the Minotaur when Dionysos gave the crown to Ariadne. It shone so brightly that she gave it to Theseus for him to see his way in and out of the labyrinth. The most familiar version has Theseus following a thread which Ariadne was holding. On Theseus’ emergence from the labyrinth Ariadne threw the crown into the sky and it became the constellation.

Whichever version was told in ancient Greece the end result was always the same – the crown ended up as Corona Borealis.

While I’m on the subject of Dionysos there’s an old fable that was recounted by the famous story-teller Aesop over two and a half thousand years ago. In it Dionysos has a significant influence on the creation of gay men and lesbians.

The god given the responsibility of creating mankind was Prometheus. He used clay to form the original bodies, making hundreds of thousands of them, men and women. This took him many days. For some reason they were all created without sexual organs, and Aesop doesn’t tell us why. When Prometheus had finished he began to form the male and female sexual organs separately. Again this took many days. He began to attach the sex organs to the pre-formed people. This also took many more days and Prometheus was getting more tired by the minute.

At that moment Dionysos arrived to ask Prometheus out for a drink. Prometheus was reluctant at first because he had this job to finish, but Dionysos keep nagging him to leave the job till later. He needed a rest and a drink would refresh him. Prometheus relented and off the two gods went.

Now, we all know what sort of relaxation Dionysos was keen on – a good party with lots of alcohol. So Dionysos took Prometheus away and they had a jolly good night out filled with wine and nectar.

Eventually Prometheus decided it was time he got back to work. He staggered home in a drunken stupor and sat down. What was he doing, he probably thought? Oh yes, putting the genitals on the rest of those human figures he had made. Picking up the genitals, one by one he began attaching them to the figures.

It was only when he had finished that he realised he had mixed up that last lot of genitals. On all of the figures he had worked on since coming home from his night out with Dionysos he had put the wrong genitals on the wrong gender. The men had female genitals and the women had male genitals.

This is how Aesop explained the creation of men and women who display characteristics of the opposite gender – effeminate men and butch women. Effeminate men were female forms with male genitals, and butch women were male forms with female genitals. It was Aesop’s way of explaining gay men and lesbians.

So, if you’re ever asked if homosexuality is “nature or nurture” you can say neither. It’s the result of a drunken night out with a drag queen!

The 2 Billion Dollar Funeral

Could this have been the most expensive funeral in history? I haven’t looked closely at all the funerals of all the heads of world powers (i.e. Russian tsars, Egyptian pharaohs, etc.) but I suspect their costs would reach into the millions. The funeral we look at today cost billions, and it’s the funeral of Alexander the Great’s male lover/companion, Hephaestion.

Some historians doubt there was a sexual relationship between Alexander and Hephaestion. They both grew up in societies where same-sex activity was a part of their youth and it is certain they both would have participated willingly in it. But we’ll leave that debate for another time. There is no doubt that their friendship was strong enough for Alexander the Great to organise a funeral for Hephaestion that was more spectacular than his own father’s, which was spectacular enough. As the Greek historian Diodorus Siculus wrote in his 1st century BC: “He showed such zeal about the funeral that it not only surpassed all those previously celebrated on earth but also left no possibility for anything greater in later years”.

There’s one slight problem with Diodorus’ statement. He wrote it two centuries after Hephaestion’s funeral took place. He was copying earlier, now lost, sources. The earliest known account is by a contemporary of Alexander’s called Cleitarchus. However, Cleitarchus was a bit of a sensationalist and historians believe most of the events his included in his biography of Alexander were over-embellished. Having said that, there’s nothing to indicate that Cleitarchus was making it up.

Depending on which ancient historian you read a total of between 10,000 and 12,000 talents were spent on the funeral. Estimates put this as equivalent today of between 2 and 3 billion US dollars. Not all of this came out of Alexander’s own “pocket”. He sent messengers to every city in his conquered territories of Persia requesting them to send as much money as they could to help give Hephaestion the send-off he thought he deserved. The cities seemed to have had no problem with this and responded enthusiastically and generously.

At the same time Alexander ordered that all sacred fires should be put out in Persia until after the funeral. This was a custom when a Persian king died, which gives another indication of Alexander’s feelings for Hephaestion.

Now that the financing had been arranged Alexander began panning the funeral itself. As Diodorus wrote (in the quote given above) he threw himself into the arrangements with zeal. A couple of years ago I mentioned that the ancient Greeks often celebrated someone’s death with funeral games – athletics and sport. The funeral games in honour of Hephaestion were held in Ecbatana, the city in which he died in October 324 BC. During this time a huge funeral procession was being gathered and Hephaestion’s body was being prepared and embalmed. When the games were over the funeral procession made its way to Babylon City.

The huge procession arrived, perhaps around what our modern calendar would call New Year. The funeral pyre on which Hephaestion’s body would be burned was still under construction. It was massive. Alexander had chosen an architect called Stasicrates (sometimes called Cheirocrates and Dinocrates) to design and build the pyre. Stasicrates was well-known for laying out the plan of Alexandria in Egypt, reconstructing the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus (turning it into one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World), and he even planned to carve a huge statue of Alexander the Great into the side of Mount Athos until Alexander himself objected. So, you can see what sort of funeral pyre Stasicrates was likely to come up with, and he didn’t disappoint.

Stasicrates’ plans were so big that he needed to knock down about a kilometre of the city walls to make enough room for it and the surrounding “spectator” area. The pyre itself was a square structure, each side being about 180 meters (590 feet) in length. On top of that were five more square structures, one on top of the other like a ziggurat, a stepped pyramid. When complete the structure was said to have been 58 meters (193 feet) tall.

Each side of the pyre was richly decorated in statues and sculptures made from wood and clay. Most of these were painted and gilded so that the whole thing shone and gleamed in the daylight. All around the ground floor were carved 240 life-size ships’ prows with statues of archers and armed men on the decks.

On the level above torches about 8 meters (26 feet) tall were attached to the walls, with golden wreaths around their handles, snakes coiled around the base of each one, and huge eagles with outstretched wings hovering over them.

On the next level up were carved animals representing a wild hunt.

On the next level was a scene representing a legendary battle between the centaurs and a tribe called the Lapiths. All of which was covered in gold.

The penultimate level also had gold statues – bulls alternating with lions.

Around the top level were arms and armour of the Greek and Persian armies.

Right on top were statues of sirens. These were hollow to allow the attendants who sang the funerary laments to stand inside. No doubt there were ladders running up through the whole structure for them to get up and down before the whole thing was set on fire.

None of the ancient sources say that the pyre was actually lit, and several modern historians, including the eminent ancient historian Robin Lane-Fox, doubt the funeral ever took place as planned. However, back in 1904 the archaeologist Robert Koldeway uncovered areas of burnt ground among the ruins of Babylon. This, he theorised, might have been the site of the pyre and that the funeral took place as intended.

After the pyre had been extinguished Hephaestion’s remains were placed in a magnificent tomb. The mystery is where? No-one is sure, but we do know that Alexander the Great had little time to continue to mourn for his lover as he himself died a couple of months after the pyre was built. Some archaeologists have suggested that Hephaestion’s tomb is in Greece.

The image at the top shows an artist’s impression of what Hephaestion’s funeral pyre might have looked like. It was painted around 1900 by F. Buracz and Franz Jeffe. Even though it was a temporary structure it would have been a magnificent sight, situated on the banks of the River Euphrates in the shadow of the famous Wonder, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (though some historians doubt the Gardens existed in the form most popularly imagined).

In an age long before inner-city skyscrapers any structure towering as high as Hephaestion’s pyre would have struck awe into the Babylonians, It could easily be called the 8th Wonder of the Ancient World.

Star-Gayzing: A Celestial Swansong

Among the queer legends associated with the stars is one which is represented by two constellations in different parts of the sky. Being objects of the night sky it is ironic that they specifically represent a myth associated with the Sun.

In Greek mythology there are several deities associated with the Sun. Among the most popular was Apollo, who was called Apollo Helios in the 3rd century BC. It was as Apollo Helios that he was the lover of Prince Hyakinthos. The name Helios, though, was originally that of an older Sun god, one of the Titans.

It was Helios who was believed to have driven the Sun across the sky every day in his chariot. Like many of the Greek gods Helios had many children, both immortal and mortal. According to the most often recorded myth one of his mortal sons was called Phaethon whose mother was a sea nymph called Clymene.

Like many male Greek characters (though unlike his father Helios) Phaethon had a male lover, as was part of cultural tradition in ancient and classical Greece. Phaethon’s lover was King Kyknos of Liguria, more commonly known by his Latinised name of Cygnus. Most of the ancient writers don’t say explicitly that the two were lovers, though several do, and the king’s behaviour following Phaethon’s death is a strong indication that they were.

The name Cygnus will be familiar to both astronomers and ornithologists as the name of a constellation and the Latin name for a swan. There are several legends of how King Kyknos/Cygnus became a swan and how he became a constellation, and they are related to the most familiar myth about Phaethon. The following is a compilation of various versions of the story.

The youthful Phaethon was being taunted by his friends over his claim that Helios is his father. So, Phaethon went to his mother and asked her, and she confirmed his parentage. Phaethon then went to ask Helios himself and, again, confirmation was given.

The Sun god offered to grant any wish to his son as proof of his love for him. At that, Phaethon asked if he could drive the Sun chariot for one day. Helios was reluctant to grant this particular wish. He warned Phaethon that the fiery horses that pulled the chariot were difficult to control, even for the mighty god Zeus, so they would be barely responsive to a mortal. However, a promise is a promise, and Helios agreed to let his son drive the chariot across the sky the following day.

In the morning Phaethon took the reins of the Sun chariot and set off. He found that his father was right, the horses were difficult to control. Struggling with the reins Phaethon found the horses pulling the chariot high into the sky, causing great areas of frost to cover the Earth. Then the horses flew downwards towards the ground and Phaethon could not stop the Sun from scorching the Earth causing the massive expanse of the Sahara.

Helios and the pantheon of gods looked on, concerned for the safety of both Phaethon and the Earth and Zeus sent a thunderbolt to strike Phaethon dead. The youth fell from the chariot, which was immediately taken over by Helios, and Phaethon plummeted downwards and plunged into the waters of the River Eridanus. Eridanus was a mythical river believed by some to represent the Italian River Po. This ties in with the location of Liguria in northern Italy, the kingdom ruled over by Kyknos, through which the Po flows. Out of respect to Helios, Zeus placed the river in the night sky as the constellation which bears the same name.

The myth of Phaethon also influenced the naming of asteroid 3200. It was discovered in 1983 and is one of the Apollo asteroids, those which approach very close to Earth, sometimes crossing our orbit (there’s several of these every year, sometimes passing between the Earth and the Moon). Asteroid 3200 also has an orbit which takes it closer to the Sun than any other named asteroid, so the name Phaethon is very appropriate.

But what about his lover King Kyknos? He probably witnessed Phaethon struggling to control the Sun chariot and watched helpless as his body fall into the Eridanus. Kyknos raced to the river and wailed in despair. Some myths say he stayed there for years, and some say he was there for just a few days. However long it was, King Kyknos’ mourning for his lover eventually touched the hearts of the gods.

It was Apollo who decided to turn Kyknos into a swan. The swan was one of the animals sacred to Apollo. Again, the myths vary in the speed of the transformation. Some say it was instant, some say it took a few years, with Kyknos’s hair turning white with age and gradually transforming into swan’s feathers. As an extra tribute Zeus placed Kyknos in the sky as the constellation the Romans called Cygnus.

This is only one of several legends about the origin of the constellation Cygnus. Another is that it represents the swan into which Zeus transformed himself to pursue Leda and thereby become the father of Helen of Troy and Castor and Pollux, the Gemini twins.

And the swansong? The myths say that as King Kyknos wailed in lament over his lost love and turned into a swan his voice changed and turned into a birdsong of great beauty. On his complete transformation into a swan he was placed in the sky, making his swan song the last sound he uttered. Since then a swansong has come to mean any great final performance given by a singer, actor or musician.

A Ghostly Warning of Doom

On previous Hallowe’ens I’ve written about vampires, Frankenstien’s monster and mummies, but not about ghosts. So, how about an lgbt ghost story from ancient Greece today. The story is a sort of companion article to one I wrote a few days ago – you’ll see why when you read on.

In the city-state of Aetolia on the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth there lived a man called Polykritos. He was a man of good standing, of noble blood, and well-like by all the citizens. One year the people (i.e. the men) of Aetolia voted him their leader. During his term of office he married a girl from the neighbouring Locrian community, but after just three nights Polykritos died leaving his young bride pregnant.

Nine months later the young widow gave birth to a healthy baby. However, the birth caused a good deal of fear in the Aetolians for the baby was born with both female and male genitalia, the baby was intersex. In ancient Greek societies an intersex baby, or hermaphrodite, as they would say, was a sign of bad luck.

Polykritos’s family took the baby to the agora, the city square, where they had called for a meeting of all the citizens and priests. The assembly debated and argued about what to do about the baby. Some people were worried that taking the baby away from its Locrian mother might cause a deterioration of the friendly relations between the Locrians and Aetolians. The priests said that both the mother and baby should be taken far away and burnt to death like an animal sacrifice.

As they were still debating a dark phantom appeared. It was the ghost of Polykritos.

The crown recoiled in terror and began to run away, but the ghost called out to them, “Don’t be afraid.” It took a little while for the crown to settle down but they were still a bit frightened. The apparition spoke again:

“Citizens. Although I am dead, because of the goodwill I feel towards you I have appealed to the masters of the underworld to let me come and help you. I beg you, hand over my child to me so that no violence will come to it. I won’t let you harm my child as the priests demand. I can understand that my appearance has frightened you and caused some confusion, but if you do as I ask all fears will be removed and you’ll be saved from any disaster as a result. If you come to another decision your distrust of me will only result in disaster. I’m telling you this for your own good. So, don’t wait, make the right decision and give me my child now, because the masters of the underworld won’t let me stay here much longer.”

After a stunned silence the crowd began discussing Polykritos’s plea. Some suggested that they hand over the baby straight away. Others thought that they needed more time to think about it, but Polykritos’s ghost could wait not longer. “Okay, don’t blame me for what happens next”, it said, and with that the ghost picked up the baby and without waring began tearing the child’s arms and legs out of their sockets and ripping at its body. The ghost then ate the bleeding flesh.

The crowd stared in horror and tried to stop the ghost by throwing stones at it, but they went straight through it. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the ghost vanished. All that was left of the baby was its head, lying in a pool of blood on the ground.

The crowd didn’t know what to do next. Perhaps they should go to consult the oracle at Delphi. Before they could discuss it further the baby’s head began to speak.

“You cannot go to the oracle because your hands are steeped in blood” the head said. “I will tell you what the oracle will foretell. One year from today death will come to everyone in this place. The offspring of Aetolians and Locrians will live together, but there will be no escape from the evil to come. A rain of blood will fall upon you and the gods will render your descendants inglorious.” The head told the crowd to leave the city if they wanted to live. The women, children and elderly were sent away leaving the men behind to await their fate.

One year later the remaining Aetolians fought a battle against their rivals to the west, the Akarnanians. Very few Aetolians survived.

I’m not much of a storyteller, I know, but I hope you found this tale nice and spooky enough for Hallowe’en. But what are we to make of it? Was it real?

The story comes from a 2nd century work by Phlegon of Tralles called “The Book of Marvels” (“Rebus Mirabilus”). Books about marvels, trivia and lists were all the rage in Phlegon’s lifetime. Phlegon himself wrote three – his Book of Marvels, a history of ancient Olympians, and a book on the longest lived humans in history. Modern scholars have given this sort of ancient trivia mania a name – paradoxography.

Modern popular culture still has a fascination for unusual and trivial facts and there are many books, and especially YouTube channels, on the subject. They are all copying what the ancient writers did a couple of thousand years ago.

So, who was Phlegon of Thralles anyway? He wasn’t a historian. He was a freedman, a former slave of the gay Roman Emperor Hadrian. He must have been fairly intelligent and literate to be able to read and write several books. But that doesn’t tell us if the story of Polykritos and the talking baby’s head was true. Phlegon said he got the story from an earlier writer called Hieron of Ephesus. A later account of the story adds that Hieron wrote about the ghostly encounter in a letter to King Antigonus of Macedonia, a contemporary of Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC.

Scholars aren’t even sure where Hieron of Ephesus got the story from in the first place, and in the later account which mentioned the letter it is claimed that Hieron was even an eye-witness to the grisly affair. In the end it may all have been ancient urban legend or folk tale which Phlegon believed to have been true, something else which is also a feature of modern popular culture. What ever it’s ultimate origin the two surviving accounts serve as a gruesome and ghostly tale for any Hallowe’en party.

The Two-Formed One

Can anyone ever be sure of the identity of the first real-life intersex individual in recorded history? Someone who wasn’t a legend, myth or deity? It may be possible by referring to a manuscript that was written over 2,000 years ago called “Bibliotheca Historia” by Diodorus Siculus (c.80 BC-c.20 BC). Diodorus is a reasonably reliable historian.

Diodorus writes an account of the reign of King Alexander I Balas of the Seleucid Empire, the region corresponding roughly to modern Iran, Iraq and Syria. After chronicling Balas’s life, reign and death Diodorus gives an anecdotal tale which may or may nor be true.

Alexander Balas gained his throne by overthrowing King Demetrius I Soter. Balas wasn’t a particularly competent ruler and he lost his throne to Demetrius’s son five years later. Diodorus writes that Balas consulted the oracle at Apollo’s sanctuary in Cicilia in southern Turkey. The oracle issued a grave warning – to beware of the place that bore the “two-formed one”. Balas was puzzled and didn’t understand what it meant (oracles were always a bit vague).

Balas had done little of significance during his reign, apart from making a marriage alliance with Egypt. It wasn’t long before his predecessor’s son, Demetrius II, fought to regain the throne. The big show-down came after Egypt switched sides to Demetrius. The decisive battle came in August 145 BC. Balas met Demetrius and the Egyptians near what is now called the Afrin River in northeast Syria. Balas’s forces were overwhelmed and he fled south to Abae, a city on the northern edge of the Syrian desert. There he was killed, possibly by some of his own generals who decided it was better to support Demetrius.

So, who was this “two-formed one” that the oracle had warned Balas about? The tale recounted by Diodorus Siculus names him as a soldier in Balas’s army called Diophantes. According to a study of ancient literature by Dr. Lutz Alexander Graumann, Diophantes is the first historical intersex person whose name is recorded, or at least Dr. Graumann believed he was.

Diophantes was raised as girl, the only child of another Diophantes and an Arabian mother. He was originally named Heraïs. Diophantes senior was Macedonian and lived in Abae, which appears to have had a large Greek military presence.

Diophantes senior also had a son, Diophantes junior, who died young, so Diophantes senior was able to provide a large dowry for his daughter Heraïs on her marriage to a man called Samiades. One year into the marriage Samiades had to go away on a journey.

Not long after he departed Heraïs became ill. A swelling developed on the bottom of the abdomen and she developed high fevers. The physicians diagnosed it as an ulcer on her uterus and treated as such.

A week later, when Heraïs was visiting her mother, the swelling burst and out of it emerged a full set of male genitalia. The mother and her servants tended Heraïs as best they could but all of them were too shocked and didn’t understand what was going on. They all agreed that no-one, including her physician, must know of it. Heraïs gradually recovered.

Eventually, Samiades returned home. Heraïs was too afraid to meet him and this made Samiades angry. Time and time again he demanded that his wife should meet him. By now Heraïs’s father had learnt the truth and he too was afraid to reveal the truth to Samiades. In the end Samiades took Diophantes senior to court, claiming he was deliberately preventing Heraïs from performing her lawful duties as a wife.

The jury agreed and Heraïs was summoned to the court. Feeling there was no other choice but to reveal the truth Heraïs undid her dress and revealed her new gender status to the whole court. At the same time she insisted that no man should cohabit with another man.

There was nothing Samiades or the court could do to force her into going back to her husband when she appeared to be a man. From then on Heraïs lived and dressed as a man and adopted the name of his father and dead brother, Diophantes. Physicians examined him and decided to surgically stabilize his genitals to prevent any internal pain.

Diophantes enrolled into the Greek army and fought at Abae where King Alexander I Balas was killed. Thus the oracle’s prophecy was fulfilled.

But is it a true story? Did Diophantes really? We’ll never know for sure. But is it possible for male genitalia to suddenly appear like that? There are known cases of intersex females not showing any visible signs of male genitalia. There are also cases of females whose male genitalia don’t become apparent until puberty. Some intersexuals enter puberty later than the usual age, and putting these all together we can understand how the female Heraïs became the intersex Diodorus.

The age at which a female could marry in ancient Greece was 12. In his written account Diodorus Siculus states that Diophantes senior provided a dowry as soon as Heraïs came of age. A year after the marriage her husband goes off on a journey and Heraïs undergoes her changes. This could have been during a late puberty, so Heraïs-Diophantes may have been 15 or 16. This is also a reasonable age for a Greek youth like Diophantes to join the army. So, on the medical evidence alone, it is very possible that the story could have been based on fact.

So, there we have it. Probably the earliest recorded name of an intersex person, the “two-formed one” mentioned by an oracle in a warning to King Alexander I Balas between 150 and 145 BC – Diophantes of Abae.

The Spartan Harvest and the Naked Chase

Even though our attention should have been on the Olympics at the moment we should remember that there were other festivals in ancient Greece. I’ve covered several of these festivals with sporting connection in some of my early articles.

In the first months of my blog I wrote about the Greater Panathenean Games. Just before the London Olympics I wrote about the Hyakinthia festival. This was the second of the three main festivals held in Sparta. The first was the Gymnopedia. The third was held during the last month of the Spartan calendar, just around now, and was called the Karneia. It is this festival about which I write today.

All three festivals were held in honour of the patron god of Sparta, Apollo, whose part in a gay love triangle formed the origin myth of the Hyakinthia. Even though all three festivals eventually included some sport the main emphasis, as in the Olympics, was on the cult of the patron god. To understand the involvement of the main participants in the Karneia we will look at who was excluded from the other two.

The responsibilities of Spartan men was to fight for the state, and marry and father the next generation of Spartan soldiers. There were several groups in the community who were considered to be un-Spartan, inferior and were denied rights and respect. These groups included men who dropped out of education (dominated by military training) before completion, freed slaves and their children, non-Spartans living in Sparta and their children, men who had shown cowardice in battle, and unmarried men over the age of 30 with no children. This last group is known as the agamoi.

It seems there was a change in attitude towards the agamoi over the centuries. The historian Plutarch writing at the turn of the 1st century says that the Spartans wouldn’t allow the agamoi to participate in or attend the Gymnopedia festival games. The reason he gave was that the Spartans believed the sight of so many athletic young men would be too much of a temptation for the agamoi. This seems at odds with the acceptance of the boy-adult same-sex relationships (up to the age of about 30) common to Greek culture at the time. These agamoi may be the nearest we can get in ancient Greece to men closest to our present definition of gay – same-sex relationships that remained physical past the age of 30.

The agamoi were, however, allowed to compete in their own games – in the middle of winter where even in Sparta the temperature could go below zero. And they were expected to compete naked just like the athletes in the summer games. In addition they had to perform dances and songs that ridiculed their status. During other events the agamoi were expected to give up their seats to anyone on demand (never by request). Another task enforced upon the agamoi was the financing and organising of the Karneia festival.

We know less about the Karneia than we do about the Hyakinthia and Gymnopedia. It may have begun as a harvest celebration, as it was held during the harvest season. There are several origin myths, including being based on the foundation of Sparta, or the commemoration of the assassination of a local seer. A fourth origin story involves the worship of an ancient ram god called Karneios.

Whatever it’s origin the Karneia festival became scared to Apollo who became known as Apollo Karneia. In this incarnation he was depicted with ram’s horns, as shown in the ancient coin below.

Although Plutarch wrote that the agamoi were ridiculed it seems that at other times they were respected within the community. Some of the earliest agamoi appear to have been servants to the priests in the temple of Apollo Karneios. Five agamoi from each of the Spartans tribes were selected by lot to organise the Karneia festival, and they held this post for four years.

Like other festivals, there was of truce. This was not for a desire for peace but, as in the Olympic truce, a chance for soldiers to participate in their sacred games without the enemy attacking. Attack during the games and you are attacking the gods. This is the reason the Spartans arrived late to the Battle of Marathon – they were at the Karneia and would not fight.

The main element of the Karneia was a race, more of a chase really. It had the long name of staphylodromoi. Split the word into two and you get an indication of the harvest aspect of the earliest Karneia – staphylo (grape), dromoi (runner). One agamoi was chosen as “bait” and garlanded with a ribbon. Running naked through the streets of Sparta he would pray to Apollo Karneia to bestow good fortune on the city. Running a little behind him, also naked, were a group of other agamoi (or, in some sources, unmarried younger men in their 20s) who had to catch the “bait”. If they did, the prayers of the “bait” would be answered. As the name of the race suggests, the original “bait” runners had bunches of grapes rather than a ribbon that the others had to snatch.

One part common to most festivals were song and dance contests. Not Fred Astaire-type songs and dances but ritual lyric poems with or without musical accompaniment, and rhythmic movement. Hellanikos of Lesbos, a writer from the 5th century BC, compiled a list of winners of the song contest.

What appears to be a later addition to the Karneia is a more military component. Nine military tents were erected near the temple and nine agamoi, again selected by lot, were served a meal in each of them.

The Karneia lasted for nine days, though how those days were filled is uncertain. The staphylodromoi was probably held on the first day. There could have been different types of song and dance contests most of the other days. The military tents may have been towards the end. Undoubtedly there would have been animal sacrifices made by the priests and the king, and the non-agamoi Spartans would have feasted and worshipped every day.

So, there seems to be two different attitudes to unmarried men over the age of 30 in Sparta. Or perhaps the agamoi were ridiculed and despised throughout the year, banned from the Gymnopedia and forced to play sport naked in the middle of winter, but at the Karneia they were tolerated and respected because they were providing a sacred service to the community. I know which I would rather have taken part in.