An LGBT+ Reinterpretation of Ovid’s Icarus for the 21st Century
Icarus to Apollo: Runaways
Who said that I flew merely towards the sun?
I flew on those honey and wax wings for a boy whose skin gleamed golden,
The boy who watched me from afar trapped in my mundane maze,
Who sparkled more than a plethora of sun rays,
He taught my soul how to catch fire and whispered for me to let it ‘burn ablaze,’
Apollo and Icarus, we were divine and mortal runaways…
Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun has often been regarded in academia as one of the oldest stories warning of the dangers associated with pride. However, this article will attempt to offer a reinterpretation of Ovid’s tale of Daedalus and Icarus’ escape from Crete found in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book VIII: 183- 235, which might bolster the notion that Icarus should potentially be read as ‘homosexual’ in the 21st century and how this, in turn, might promote a more loving and open conversation around how far some nations still have to go to encourage boys like Icarus to fly towards the sun. This ancient myth might be able to teach nations, where homosexuality remains illegal, persecuted and unprotected to build ‘wings’ from ‘reeds,’ ‘wax,’ and ‘honey’ like Daedalus so that boys like Icarus might be supported and encouraged to fly free and reach their lovers without the fear of ‘falling’ and ‘death’ for flying ‘too close’. Ovid might be able to teach us still in this department.
In light of this, I offer a literary reinterpretation of Icarus who, like many LGBT+ individuals across the world in less tolerant locations feel ‘imprisoned by the waves,’ and have been taught by their societies in a similar vein to Daedalas’ words to Icarus to also ‘take the middle way’ and ‘take the course I show you,’ which emic accounts of LGBT+ individuals from certain nations across the world similarly recount in their tales of being taught to ‘hide their gayness’ by ‘marrying a woman’ as is ‘custom’ in their less accepting countries, where homosexuality remains ‘unacceptable’. Perhaps these individuals might relate to Icarus here, for instance. As well as this, these LGBT+ people across the world who do not feel safe enough to share their homosexuality might comprehend Icarus’ emotions as he ‘left his guide, drawn by the desire for the heavens’ in their own similar emic accounts of abandoning their societies ideals where homosexuality might be ‘frowned upon’ in favour of their strong romantic attraction to their partners as we see repeated time and time again in less LGBT+ friendly countries in the 21st century.
Indeed, the ‘sun’ to me is a potential metaphor for Icarus’ desire for Apollo, the God of the Sun with Helios. Indeed, it seems significant to note that the very language of ‘Icarus flew too close to the sun’ then might also be relatable to LGBT+ persons in nations, where hate crimes against homosexual individuals remain because they too, like Icarus fear ‘falling’ if they reach for their lovers and fear very real and very dangerous threats to their own lives as we see in recent ethnographic studies coming out of various ‘less tolerant nations,’ where homosexuality remains sadly… ‘persecuted’.
Therefore, perhaps Icarus’ story might be playing out today in the world in relation to the possible similarities of LGBT+ individuals feeling ‘trapped’, longing for escape, wishing to be with their lovers and ‘falling’ as a result. Thus, I propose that this myth might help us to encourage LGBT+ rights and freedoms across the world.
Written by Sophie Bea Louise Overton
