Queer Representation in Gilgamesh and the Iliad

I’m gay. That’s not news to me or my family or my friends — I’ve been out for a while. I have a wonderful girlfriend that I plan to marry. Life is good. Aside from occasional ignorant questions and weird looks, the only major homophobia I’ve experienced has stemmed from the idea that queer people are a new development. There seems to be a consensus in Western society that there weren’t gay people until at least the 1960s, but in reality there have always been gay people, just like there have always been people with brown hair and there have always been blind people and there have always been people who don’t like to wear shoes. It brings me comfort to see examples of queerness in older literature and art. Representation matters, and representation in history even more so. Awareness of gay people and gay experiences before our time reminds us that we are not a fad, not a trend, not a phase.

We see examples of homosexuality as far back as the Ancient Mediterranean. The relationship between Achilles and Patroclus in Homer’s Iliad can be interpreted as either a close platonic bond or a romantic one. One incredible example of this is the way Achilles mourns Patroclus’ death: it closely resembles the way Andromache mourns her husband Hector’s death.

Andromache mourning Hector:

“…The world went black as night

before her eyes, she fainted,

falling backward, gasping away her life breath…

She flung to the winds her glittering headdress,

the cap and the coronet, braided band and veil,

all the regalia golden Aphrodite gave her once”

The Iliad, book 22, lines 547–552, Fagles pg. 557

Achilles mourning Patroclus:

“A black cloud of grief came shrouding over Achilles.

Both hands clawing the ground for soot and filth,

he poured it over his head, fouled his handsome face

and black ashes settled onto his fresh clean war-shirt.

Overpowered in all his power, sprawled in the dust,

Achilles lay there, fallen . . .”

The Iliad, book 18, lines 24–29, Fagles pg. 468

In both instances, Andromache and Achilles suffer a great loss. The description of their grief begins with imagery of darkness. Both fall to the ground and start to ruin and throw away their clothing. The depictions of their respective grief continue in a similar fashion. Their responses mirror each other, and so it can be inferred that their relationships also mirror each other. Andromache and Hector are married. It stands to reason Achilles is also grieving for a lover.

Later, an entire book of the Iliad is dedicated to Patroclus’ funeral games. At this time, Patroclus’ phantom comes forth and begs Achilles, “But one thing more, A last request — grant it please. / Never bury my bones apart from yours, Achilles, let them lie together… / … So now let a single urn, the gold two-handled urn / your noble mother gave you, hold our bones — together!” (The Iliad, book 23, lines 99–101, 109–110, Fagles, pg 562) It is customary now for couples and families to be buried together, and it was customary in the Ancient Mediterranean as well. Patroclus’ final wish to remain with Achilles forever is much more than that of two comrades in arms. That is the request of a lover.

Achilles and Patroclus’ incredibly close relationship can be interpreted as romantic, although many historians and translators have chosen to interpret it platonically — keeping with societal norms. However, in Ancient Greece it was not out of the ordinary for adult men to have sexual relations, with other adult men or even with younger boys. Pedophilia aside — the story of ancient lovers like Achilles and Patroclus makes an important point: homosexual relationships have always been around. Some may argue, “No! Achilles had a wife! Achilles and Patroclus both courted Helen!” And to that I say, even better! Ancient examples of bisexuality are also excellent! The point is that examples of love between people of the same gender exist at all. Contrary to what many would have you believe, gayness is naturally occurring, and has been naturally occurring for centuries.

Another example of a same-sex relationship occurs in the ancient epic Gilgamesh. While this relationship is not explicitly romantic or sexual, the bond between Gilgamesh and Enkidu is incredibly close, and the undertones feel romantic. The god Anu’s directions for creating Enkidu are as follows: “…Now go and create / a double for Gilgamesh, his second self, / a man who equals his strength and courage, / a man who matches his stormy heart. / Create a new hero, let them balance each other / perfectly, so that Uruk has peace.” (Gilgamesh, book I, lines 55–60, Mitchell, pg. 74) Notice how similar this description is to a description of a married couple! Enkidu and Gilgamesh are two parts of a whole; they are soulmates; they balance each other perfectly. Furthermore, as we see throughout the epic, Enkidu makes Gilgamesh a better, less aggressive person. Various descriptions of the pair such as this one all work in favor of their relationship resembling a marriage.

After Enkidu dies, Gilgamesh roams the world, looking for an antidote to death. When Utnapishtim inquires about his wellbeing, Gilgamesh replies, “Shouldn’t my heart be filled with grief? / Shouldn’t I be worn out and ready to collapse?” (Gilgamesh, book X, lines 126–127, Mitchell, pg. 174) He goes on to explain, “My beloved friend has turned into clay — / My beloved Enkidu has turned into clay” (Gilgamesh, book X, lines 144–145, Mitchell, pg. 175.) Gilgamesh explains that he mourned Enkidu for six days and seven nights, not even allowing him to be buried. Enkidu dying is the end of his world, and Gilgamesh is willing to do anything to find something to reverse death. Clearly Enkidu is very dear to Gilgamesh; he refers to him as “beloved”. This sort of grief, while of course not explicitly romantic, implies that these two god-like men were more than battle partners and best friends. One did not know what to do without the other. They were lovers and they were soulmates. Of course, grief for a friend can be devastating, but this level of denial and bargaining point to a deeper relationship.

“But”, you might say, “Enkidu and Gilgamesh both had sexual relationships with women!” And you’d be correct. Enkidu was civilized through a week of sex with Shamhat, and Gilgamesh was well-known for raping brides on their wedding days. However, neither ever married. It cannot be argued that either Gilgamesh or Enkidu were exclusively homosexual, but it is very likely that they were lovers. They provide another example of ancient bisexuality.

Why does this matter? Who cares if some soldiers thousands of years ago were sleeping together? Achilles, Patroclus, Gilgamesh, and Enkidu are not the important part. The fact that their relationships existed and were written down — even if it was mostly subtext — shows the existence of same sex relationships. Furthermore, especially in the Iliad, their relationships are not the focal point of their stories. This shows not only that queer relationships existed, but they were common enough to be included in ancient epics without derailing the entire plot. That may sound ridiculous, but often in modern media, a queer character’s story starts and ends with their sexuality. It is rare to find a show or book with a queer main character whose story isn’t completely based around their coming out experience. Of course, gay protagonists are becoming more common as our society grows more progressive, and that is wonderful! But progress is slow going. It is refreshing to remember that there are queer storylines as far back as the Ancient Mediterranean. In this way, antiquity is — in a twisted way — more progressive than the twentieth century!

It is vital that people understand that homosexuality and bisexuality have always existed. A lot of the stigma surrounding queer people stems from the idea that we are a “new thing”. That’s simply not true. Throughout history, people have been gay all over the place, we just don’t have most of their stories. Society either didn’t have words for same sex relationships or didn’t allow them. Gay people repressed their feelings or loved each other in secret. It wasn’t until the 1960s that we see society acknowledging the existence of queer people. Even then, we started with baby steps. Initially, it was pretty much only white gay men who were visible, but gradually, the queer sphere has expanded to include women, people of color, transgender people, bisexual and pansexual people, people of different abilities and religions and backgrounds, those who come out early in life and those who don’t figure it out until later. Society is gradually working towards acceptance and understanding of many other subgroups of queer people, including people on the asexual spectrum and people who don’t identify with either male or female. Since all of this has only recently become visible to society at large, many believe that all these ideas were only invented in the last fifty or sixty years. Some of these terms have been invented only in modern history, but the people they apply to have existed as long as the rest of humanity.

Queer visibility in history is not only important for straight and cisgender people, but also vital to queer people themselves. Maybe a teenage boy reading the Iliad sees himself and his feelings for his best friend in Patroclus. Maybe a mom of three reads Gilgamesh and suddenly something clicks for her about the friend she’s had since she was very young. Maybe a college student who’s already out to herself and her family and friends must read a bunch of Greek and Roman classics for school, and she just gets a little smile every time queer-coded characters come up. At every level, the normalization of gay relationships is incredibly important. Even if learning about queer people in history doesn’t give somebody an epiphany about their sexuality or gender, seeing themselves represented as normal and healthy is so important for mental development. Understanding that nothing is wrong with you, that people like you have always existed and will always exist, is comforting.

The importance of queer representation in antiquity cannot be overstated. The relationship between Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad and that of Gilgamesh and Enkidu in Gilgamesh are contested, but they can certainly be read as romantic relationships. These two pairs of men were lovers, and their stories have not been lost to time. Their existence is an important piece of the puzzle that is gay history; the puzzle that can help queer people understand themselves and others to accept them. As Jay Collay writes in their poem “Seventeen Things,” our community “[has] a history as old as / Alexander the Great / as brilliant as Sappho / as dignified as Abraham Lincoln / and as proud as Eleanor Roosevelt.” It just takes a little more work to find it.

Credit: I received feedback from Mitchell Knight.

Works Cited

Collay, Jay. “17 Things.” Spondee Soliloquy, WordPress.com, 11 Oct. 2016, spondeesoliloquy.wordpress.com/2017/01/24/17-things/.

Homer. The Iliad. Translated by Robert Fagles, Penguin, 1990.

Mitchell, Stephen, translator. Gilgamesh. Alianza Editorial, 2010.