We Were Always Here: Queer Existence in Ancient Egypt
While there is a significant amount of awareness of, and scholarship on, homosexual relationships and love in Ancient Greece, comparatively little has been written on queerness of any kind in Ancient Egypt.
Evidence of a social 'model' for homosexuality in Egypt – like that of pederasty in Ancient Greece – is lacking. However, this should not prevent acknowledgement of queerness, or queer relationships and relations, when we see it, as some scholarship seeks to do. As R. B. Parkinson has pointed out, the subject of homosexuality in Ancient Egypt 'is surrounded by modern as well as ancient taboos’[1]. So, how do we talk about queerness in a landscape seemingly lacking in markers? Well, those markers do exist, if we would only take the time to see them…
In Literature
King Neferkare and General Sasenet (18th-25th Dynasty)
One of the most famous queer stories found in Egyptian literature is that of a liaison between a King and a general, spied on by the courtier Tjeti:
He (the King) arrived at the house of the general Sasenet. Then he threw a brick and stamped with his foot, so that a [ladder (?)] was lowered to him. He climbed up, while Tjeti son of Hentu stood waiting till His Majesty would return. After His Majesty had done what he desired with him, he returned to his palace and Tjeti followed him. When His Majesty had returned to the palace (l.p.h.), Tjeti went home. Now His Majesty went to the house of the general Sasenet in the course of the fourth hour of the night, he spent the next four hours and remained till dawn. And Tjeti son of Hentu followed His [Majesty] every night without letting his heart restrain him[2].
This passage has often been interpreted as a satire on Neferkare Pepi II (6th Dynasty), or Neferkare Shabaka (25th Dynasty). However, Dominic Montserrat observes that the married King is ‘not criticized per se for having sex with another male but for being a bad ruler’[3]. Interestingly, the general Sasenet is characterized more clearly along queer lines, as he is unmarried: ‘"there was no woman in [his house]"), an unusual state of affairs for any Egyptian’[4]. While it does seem that the story of Neferkare and Sasenet is intended to be entertaining, perhaps it is the general sense of intrigue (as well as the voyeuristic overtones) that amplifies this humour most of all, alongside – or even instead of – its queer nature.
Teaching of Vizier Ptahhotep (5th Dynasty)
A number of other allusions to queer relations are found in didactic literature, which suggests some taboo elements to sex between men, if not total prohibition. The 32nd Maxim in the Teaching of Vizier Ptahhotep advises:
You should not have sex with a woman-boy, for you know that what is condemned
will be water on his breast.
There is no relief for what is in his belly.
Let him not spend the night doing what is condemned;
he will find relief only when he has abandoned his desire.[5]
Scholars tend to agree that, here, ‘it is the passive partner who is demeaned and not the active’[6] [7], and that the ‘woman-‘ prefix for the boy refers to his position. The Book of the Dead (18th-21st Dynasties), on the other hand, extends the condemnation further: ‘I have not had sexual relations with a boy’ is declared at two points in the texts, though Bruce Gerig argues that these prohibitions are more to do with religious contexts for such activities, rather than the activities themselves[8].
Conflict of Horus and Seth (20th Dynasty)
In myth, the ‘conflict’ of Horus and Seth provides another more explicit reference to sex – or sexual violence – between men (or male divinities), depending on source and interpretation:
Seth said to Horus: ‘Come let us spend a pleasant hour at my house.’ Horus answered, ‘With pleasure, with pleasure.’ When it was evening a bed was spread for them and they lay down. During the night Seth made his penis stiff and he placed it between the loins of Horus. Horus put his hands between his loins and caught the sperm of Seth[9].
The story continues with Horus running to tell his mother, Isis, whose revenge against Seth involves tricking Seth into eating her son’s sperm. Unsurprisingly, the tale is interpreted as an episode of attempted, aggressive domination in an ongoing conflict between two gods. Nevertheless, some read the beginnings of the sexual encounter as more mutual. Parkinson finds here the theme that seems to run throughout references to sex between men, which is that ‘the 'passive' role of receiving the seed was disgraceful, but no stigma seems to be attached to the active role, even though the declarations of the Book of the Dead imply that it was prohibited’[10]. So, there is more queer complexity to this tale of apparent conflict than meets the eye.
In Art
Nyankhkhnum and Khnumhotep (5th Dynasty)
Outside of fiction, funerary artefacts offer the most evidence for recognition of queer relationships. Official manicurists Nyankhkhnum and Khnumhotep were two men buried together in the same tomb. Their names also imply a close relationship too: Nyankhkhnum means ‘life belongs to Khnum’ and Khnumhotep means ‘Khnum is satisfied’[11]. They both had wives and families, but paintings inside show them embracing and touching noses, which in Egyptian art usually represented a kiss.
Some scholars have claimed that they were brothers or twins, but Greg Reeder observes that though ‘the hand-holding and embracing scenes may be unique between men of equal station in private tombs’, they are commonly found, and most closely aligned with, the imagery used for husband and wife[12]. It is unsurprising, therefore, that this is often deemed the earliest record of a gay couple.
Idet and Ruiu (18th Dynasty)
Similarly, the statue of Idet and Ruiu shows two women sat side by side, in almost identical dress, and with their arms around each other.
Statues of this kind are generally made to depict married couples [13], and though some claim that the connection between Idet and Ruiu ‘remains a mystery’ [14], this likeness to conjugal imagery may suggest a queer couple like that of Nyankhkhnum and Khnumhotep. The hieroglyphs also seem to support the idea, as they offer a prayer to ‘Osiris, lord of eternity’, repeated (with variations) across the pair; the women look towards eternal life together. Outside of the more official, didactic literary culture, then, the art of private statues and in burial chambers appears to leave a little more room for queer interpretation.
So, by acknowledging queer existence in ancient Egypt, it is possible to bring new understandings and intepretations to the material and literary evidence – and by doing so, perhaps more than one ancient ‘mystery’ could be solved.
[1] Parkinson, R. “Homosexual' Desire and Middle Kingdom Literature,” Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 81 (1995)
[2] van Dijk, J., The Nocturnal Wanderings of King Neferkare`, in N Grimal, G Clerc & C Berger (eds), Hommages à Jean Leclant (1994)
[3] Montserrat, D., Sex and Society (Kegan Paul: 1996)
[4] Van Dijk, J., Ibid
[5] Parkinson, R. B. (ed.), The Tale of Sinuhe and Other Ancient Egyptian Poems 1940-1640 BC (Oxford University Press: 1997)
[6] Gerig, B. L., ‘Homosexuality in Ancient Egypt’, The Epistle (epistle.us)
[7] Parkinson, Ibid, Note: ‘The thirty-second maxim warns against venting sexual desire on a woman-boy -- apparently a boy prostitute who takes the female role in sexual intercourse. The act does not reflect on the character of the active partner, and has no social consequences for him […] The boy's desire is perverse, and socially unacceptable’.
[8] Gerig, B. L., Ibid
[9] Montserrat, D., Ibid
[10] Parkinson, R. (1995), Ibid
[11] Dunn, J. "The Tomb of Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep at Saqqara in Egypt". Tour Egypt. (touregypt.net)
[12] Reeder, G., "Same-Sex Desire, Conjugal Constructs, and the Tomb of Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep". World Archaeology. 32 (2) (2000)
[13] Prins, T. And they were tomb mates: Conceptualizing gender and sexuality in the Ancient Near East., BA Thesis. University of Leiden. (2024)
[14] Ancient Egypt: The Definitive Visual History (Doring Kindersley Limited: 2021)
About the Author
Maya Frampton is a Classics & English graduate from the University of Oxford, who works as an Archivist and tutor in London. She came to Oxford from state schools, and is passionate about opening up classical education to all pupils, regardless of background. Maya writes on classical, English, and world literature, as well as on film and about archival practice.