Catullus
Le Moineau de Lesbie (The Sparrow of Lesbia), Guillaume-Charles Brun, 1860
The power dynamic between men and women in ancient heterosexual relationships oftentimes conforms to a single mold. Writings, statues, and mosaics from both ancient Greece and Rome depict the love shared between strong, dominant males and their sweet, submissive female counterparts. It’s a stereotype we’ve come to know and grudgingly accept at times because often, it feels as though an alternative never existed. Yet the Roman poet, favored in AP Latin Lyric curricula and known for his neoteroic writing, Catullus, did, in fact, write to the contrary. His love elegies describe a different experience with heterosexual relationships, and when analyzed, prove that there was a nuanced dialogue surrounding gender norms in the ancient world.
Catullus, as a member of the lyric poets, wrote at the individual level. He detailed his personal experiences and emotions and often mentioned a woman, “Lesbia,” in his work. Lesbia is the name Catullus gave to his lover and should not be confused with the word “lesbian,” despite the similar etymology shared between the two. Lesbia and Catullus have a complex relationship: at times the poet writes about their whirlwind, everlasting romance, and at others, he vents about her character and immorality. In fact, it’s in those latter instances that Catullus reveals to readers the somewhat unexpected dynamic he shares with Lesbia. When looking at Catullus 11, specifically, he writes,
“may [Lesbia] live and fare well with her own adulterers,
Three hundred of whom she, having embraced [them], holds at the same time,
Loving none truly, but repeatedly breaking
The groins of all…”
Lesbia here is depicted as disloyal to Catullus in regards to her “three hundred” lovers, and as a sex-crazed individual, “repeatedly breaking the groins of all…” These attributes are inherently masculine, as stereotypically, men are the ones to be unfaithful and give into lust or sexual desire. Seeing these actions credited to a woman shows that ancient norms surrounding domestic relationships perhaps weren’t as homogenous as we’ve grown accustomed to believing. In fact, Catullus goes so far in his writing to paint himself as the victim or abused lover. In doing so, he assumes the typically feminine role of the powerless yet ever loyal lover that we’re so used to reading about. Throughout his numerous writings, Catullus effectively creates a role reversal between man and woman, one that feels refreshing after only hearing one narrative for so long.
The point of this examination of Lesbia’s unfaithfulness and reckless behavior is not to absolve her of blame or responsibility through the guise of “girl power.” Cheating is immoral, no matter the gender of the perpetrator. Rather, this dissection is intended to raise questions about our current gender stereotypes and expectations within modern-day relationships. When asking why our current gender norms look the way they do, a common response sounds something like, “That’s the way it’s always been.” But hasn’t Catullus just proved otherwise? If variations of gender expectations within relationships were written about in the ancient world, why did a dominant-male and submissive-female structure “win” in this ideological battle? Why isn’t the norm what Catullus described? “Because of the patriarchy, because of society, because…” We’ve heard it all before. But instead of settling for an answer, I’d like to rule out one: This wasn’t all pre-determined.
So often we gravitate towards blaming our culture or society for the way things are. I do it all the time. But by assigning responsibility for the injustices in our world to intangible, impersonal forces, we run the risk of exonerating ourselves of any culpability in contributing to the issue. Yes, we are products of our environment, but likewise, we produce our environment. Blaming the ancient world for passing down oppressive gender roles is an easy excuse to ignore the parts we’ve all played in perpetuating these stereotypes ourselves. Not only is it an easy out, but as Catullus has shown us, it’s simply not true. Rather than only looking backwards, I encourage us to look inwards, as well, when examining our societal composition. If the ancient world could make room for differing dialogues on gender expectations, I know that we can, too.