Exploring the Remains of a Galla Priestess

We have evidence for trans people throughout history, throughout cultures, all over the world.

But often, that evidence shows up in the written record. 

Take the Gallae, for example. The priestesses of the mother goddess Kybele, in ancient Rome.

The first time we looked at them on this channel, we focused mostly on their presence in the written record. Writers like Ovid, Lucretius, St. Augustine, Firmicus Maternus, and others gave us wonderful insights into their lives. 

RELATED: Kybele and the Gallae: An Introduction

From there, we explored what we know about the religious practices and rituals the Gallae engaged in. In particular, we explored the festival of Kybele and its importance in the Roman world. 

RELATED: The Rituals of the Gallae

History is great.

I love history.

There’s a good reason why it says Transgender History in the title. But there’s more than one definition of history. 

In lay terms, “history” is synonymous with “stuff whut dun an’ gone past”.

But in the strictest sense, history is written.

When we talk about the historical record, we’re talking about written accounts of what happened. 

But there’s more to the past than just that.

There’s the archaeological record, for example. When you walk up to the Colosseum in Rome, or the Parthenon in Athens, you may feel a sense of wonder and connection to the past. But technically speaking, they’re archaeological evidence, not historical. 

There’s also literature, which rly says allot about are society, language, political science, sociology, art history, and so much more. That’s what makes the field of classical studies such a unique one. As classicists, we have so many different hats we wear, which helps us get the deepest understanding of our area of study; the ancient Mediterranean. 

Today, we’ll be returning to the Gallae once more. But we’ll be mostly wearing archaeologists’ hats while we do.

M’lady. 

But this isn’t the first time we’ve done transgender archaeology.

I had such a wonderful experience exploring the grave of the Scythian Enaree priestess we found in Bactria, modern-day northern Afghanistan, which we did earlier this year. And clearly, a lot of you did as well. 

In fact, some of you even told me that video moved you to tears. I read those comments sometimes when I’m in one of those existential “what does it all mean” type moods, which happens far more often than I’d like. It helps push me to carry on, and to continue shamelessly promoting this channel to anyone who will listen. 

But is that the only grave of an ancient trans person we have? 

No, it isn’t. Not even close. 

In fact, there are a lot of these that we know about. Each of them is so special – almost sacred.

Because while stories of our existence are wonderful, it’s something else to be able to actually explore the physical remains of someone like us.

To see the evidence we left behind in the ancient past, and to imagine what trans people in the year 4000 might think as they look back on our own remains. 

If you’re new to this channel, welcome.

I’m Sophie, and this is We Have Always Existed. It’s a series that explores the wealth of transgender history in the ancient Mediterranean. 

Today, we’ll be exploring the grave of a Galla priestess, who lived in Britain in the Roman era.

In the past, I’ve argued why the Gallae can be interpreted as transgender, which is not an argument I’ll be repeating today.

Not because it isn’t interesting, but because I’ve already done it.

If you’re interested in learning more about that, you’ll find two previous videos I’ve done on the Gallae linked above.

As always, I’ll do my best to keep this video as self-contained as possible. But if you’d like to know more about the Gallae, those previous videos will provide plenty of context and likely answer any questions you have.

This is the third time we’ll have taken a close look at the Gallae, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, because it’s a hella interesting topic. 

Because I assume most of you aren’t classicists, I like to provide some context for the period we’ll be exploring.

After all, our ancient sister, too, lived in a society.

We can understand more about her by understanding the world in which she lived. 

So, we’ll start with a brief overview of who the Gallae were.

From there, we’ll talk a bit about life in ancient Britain, and then we’ll get to the grave. 

Chapter I: Who Were the Gallae?

So again, this is a recap of previous videos.

I’m trying to strike a balance between keeping this material accessible to new viewers without boring long-time viewers.

If you already know about the Gallae, I dunno maybe this is like a refresher or something?

Whatever. If you’re bored, go clean your room. 

The Gallae were a sect of priestesses devoted to the worship of the Mater Magna goddess. She went by many names, including Rhea, Ops, Agdistis, and Kybele. It’s the latter that I mostly use in these videos, to keep it from getting confusing. 

Their priesthood originally began in Phrygia, in Anatolia, modern-day Turkey. But in 205 BCE, during the Second Punic War with Carthage, they were brought to Rome. 

These individuals were, I’ve argued, one of the clearest examples of representation of transgender women in the ancient Mediterranean.

The Gallae were what we might call assigned male at birth, but castrated themselves in a ritual called the dies sanguinis, the DAY OF BLOOD, after which they would wear makeup, jewelry, tiaras, and women’s clothing. They often bleached their hair as well (Vermaseren 96-97). 

The yearly cult festival to Kybele was held in March, during which the Gallae played an important role. It included two weeks of rituals. Otherwise, we’re told they were to stay within the confines of the Temple to Kybele in Rome. 

But we know they were widespread throughout the empire as well. In particular, St. Augustine writes about them, quote: 

Concerning the Gallae consecrated to the same Great Mother, in defiance of all the modesty which belongs to men and women, Varro has not wished to say anything, nor do I remember to have read anywhere aught concerning them. These Gallae, no later than yesterday, were going through the streets and places of Carthage with anointed hair, whitened faces, relaxed bodies, and feminine gait, exacting from the people the means of maintaining their ignominious lives. 

– Aurelius Augustinus Hipponensis, De Civitate Dei Contra Paganos, VII.XXVI

Carthage was, of course, on the coast of North Africa, where the city of Tunis is today. It’s the capital of Tunisia.

And for those following along at home, you may recognize that Tunisia is not, in fact, where Rome is. 

They also maintained a presence in Pessinus, where they originated.

We know this because, in 189 BCE, the Gallae there predicted that the Roman army would win its upcoming battle against nearby Galatia (Roller 206).

We’re also told about a Galla named Battakes who journeyed from there to Rome (Vermaseren 99). More on her in another video, but it’s pretty cool that we have the name of one of them, too, huh?

So, they weren’t just restricted to Rome itself. This makes sense, though, right? The cult of Kybele was tremendously important to the Romans. They owed Kybele a lot, mythologically speaking.

She helped the Trojan prince Aeneas build the ships he used to flee the destruction of Troy (Ver. Aen. IX.XC-XL). Eventually, he’d sail those ships to Italy, and his descendants would found Rome. Later, Kybele protected the Trojan fleet by turning some sunken Trojan ships into sea nymphs that swam along with them (Ver. Aen. X). 

And during the Second Punic War – the one where the Carthaginians almost won – a book of oracles told them they could win if they brought Kybele to Rome.

So they did, and then they won the war. 

So the Romans highly revered Kybele. They built a temple to her on the Palatine Hill, the central part of the city. Mythologically speaking, that’s where Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were suckled by a she-wolf after being abandoned. It’s weird, I know. 

So the point is that the cult of Kybele, the Great Mother Goddess, was a big deal to the Romans. As a result, it’s not surprising that her worship extended outside of the capital itself. 

I guess the cat’s already out of the bag, so I can say we’re exploring a Galla grave in Roman Britain, which, along with Carthage and Asia Minor, gives us three different examples of places other than Rome itself where the Gallae existed. That’s sort of like the three furthest-reaching corners of the Roman world.

And if we find Gallae in each of them, I think it’s reasonable to assume they had a presence elsewhere as well. 

So, that’s pretty neato. 

Chapter II: Roman Britain

So, we understand a bit more about the Gallae now, and how widespread their cult likely was in the Roman world.

Now that we know who we’re looking at, let’s talk about where we’re looking at. 

Now, I’m not entirely sure Britain actually exists.

Like I’m sorry, you’ll never convince me someone actually decided to call a town “Barton in the Beans”.

That’s not a town name, that’s a child’s nursery rhyme. 

Are you going to sit there with a straight face and tell me someone looked at their beautiful newborn baby and said “I think I’ll name him Twisleton Wykeham”?

Sounds like a goblin you’d meet in a D&D campaign.

That’s not a real person, I’m sorry. I’m just not convinced. I think you were all just bored one day and decided to talk weird on a lark, and the joke got away from itself so now you’re stuck.

But it’s okay, you can drop the act now. I’m onto you.  

But if Britain does exist – and there’s no evidence of that, to be clear – it has a long and complex history. 

The earliest evidence for human activity on the island of Britain dates back to about 800,000-1 million years ago.

Interestingly, it wasn’t always an island. There was originally a land bridge to it, which disappeared around 5,000 BCE, after a referendum on the island, which historians call the first Brexit. 

Those who don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it. 

But that didn’t stop all the IMMIGRANTS from showing up and changing British cultural traditions. The biggest change was around 4000 BCE, when newcomers to Britain introduced agriculture.

And it’s all been downhill since.

Britain’s Bronze Age began around 2300 BCE (Grigsby), about a thousand years later than on Cyprus, if you watched the video on the transgender Venus of Cyprus.

That’s surprising, because you need tin and copper to make bronze, and there isn’t any tin on Cyprus, but there are deposits of both near Cornwall (Carey Et Al.).

The Bronze Age saw more immigration and a growing network of trade to Ireland and mainland Europe.

Around that time, they built Stonehenge, but they hadn’t yet developed a system of writing, so we don’t know as much about it as we’d like. 

In fact, the earliest evidence we have of any writing from Britain comes after Roman contact, after which they began minting coins with Latin inscriptions on them (Harborough Museum).

So, if you’re the type who wants to keep British culture pure and free of immigrant influence, do your part and remain illiterate.

In fact, it might help to protest things like the Daily Mail, Harry Potter, stop signs, and any inscription on any statue anywhere.

While you’re at it, stop eating any food produced by agriculture.

Stick to foraging: the traditional British way of life! 

Alright that’s enough dunking on British racists. 

Ah, who am I kidding? I’ll never get tired of that.

Besides, what are they gonna do? Another Brexit?

Go ahead, shoot yourselves in the other foot. Worked out great the first time around, eh lads? 

Everything we talked about so far comes from the archaeological record.

In particular, we know he gave a funeral oration in honour of his aunt Julia, who passed in 68 BCE (Taylor 22), but that has been lost. She was the widow of Gaius Marius, an influential politician and general who’d fought a bitter civil war against the general Sulla a generation earlier.

He also wrote some poems (Courtney 187-8). We have fragments of these, but they’re mostly lost.

The only works we have that survive intact and are unarguably written by him are his commentaries on his campaigns in Gaul, and on the civil war between him and Pompey.

It’s the former we’re interested in today. He’s the first written source we have on Britain. 

We’re told by multiple ancient sources that the Greek geographer Pytheas traveled to Britain in the 4th century BCE and wrote about it extensively as well, but that work unfortunately doesn’t survive (Scott).

Ditto with a Carthaginian geographer, Himilco, in the 6th century BCE (Lendering).

Anyway, Caesar famously conquered Gaul, most of modern-day France, in the mid-1st century BCE. During that time, he landed in Britain and fought several battles against the locals. He tells us he did so because the Gauls he’d been fighting had received support from them during their campaign (Caes. BGall. IV.XX). But he didn’t establish a permanent Roman presence on the island. 

He went to Rome for aid, then ruled by the emperor Claudius. If he left it alone, the Catuvellauni could end up threatening Roman territory in Gaul. So, he landed on the island with four legions in 43 CE, nearly a hundred years after Caesar had.

Along with him was the legate Titus Flavius Vespasianus, who would later become the emperor Vespasian. Over the following few years, more and more territory was annexed and more and more local kingdoms became client states of Rome. 

One of the Roman client states in Britain was the Iceni, in modern day Norfolk.

When their king Prasutagus died in the year 60 CE without an heir, he left his estate to his wife and daughters, and to Nero, who was emperor at the time. He hoped this would mean Roman protection for his people, but instead the Romans conquered and plundered them, and disrespected his wife and daughters in a way I’d rather not talk about. It’s rough.

It’s easy to forget because our histories are largely written by the Romans, but they were really awful. We’re fascinated by them because they lived so long ago and we know so much about them, but if they were around today, we’d absolutely hate them. They were a terrible, expansionist power that slaughtered uncountable millions and caused unimaginable suffering for no reason other than to satisfy the ambition of the wealthiest, most privileged men in their society.

Sounds more and more familiar by the day… 

Anyway, Prasutagus’ wife wasn’t happy about this, so she led a rebellion against the Romans.

She attacked Camulodunum, modern day Colchester, sacked it, and slaughtered its inhabitants. The Romans sent forces to retake it, but were wiped out by Boudicca’s rebels.

From there, they moved on to give the same treatment to Verulamium (modern St. Albans), and even the Roman capital of Britain, Londinium (modern London). 

Tacitus tells us she also massacred 70,000 Romans and pro-Roman Britons, and tore an entire legion to pieces.

But few could resist Roman expansion during the early principate.

The Romans drew her army into a gorge, and pelted them with javelins from above.

This also meant the native Britons couldn’t use their numerical advantage, so they were defeated. Boudicca survived the battle herself, but afterward she poisoned herself, died of shock, or fell ill and died. We’re not sure which. 

Roman history is full of stories like this – a plucky band of rebels resisting the encroachment of the all-powerful imperial forces.

It’s like Star Wars, except the Empire always wins. 

Boudicca, Spartacus, Vercingetorix, the Servile Wars… it’s kind of depressing. 

Anyway, Boudicca was the last major resistance the Romans would face in Britain.

When she died in 60 or 61 CE, we’re not sure, the Romans were largely unhindered in settling the island and imposing their culture on the native Britons.

By 78, they’d conquered Wales as well. 

They didn’t particularly need any of its natural resources, the tribes there were hostile, and there wasn’t much to loot from them.

That may be the same reason why the Romans never conquered Hibernia, their name for Ireland. 

But a few years later, the Romans under the emperor Antoninus Pius pushed farther north than Hadrian’s Wall, establishing the Antonine Wall, which stretched across the island between Glasgow and Edinburgh.

That’s as far as the Romans ever got into Britain, but they didn’t hold it for long. Less than 20 years later, the Antonine Wall was breached, and the Romans fell back to Hadrian’s Wall.

The emperor Septimius Severus – Elagabalus was part of his dynasty, you may recall if you watched that video – worked to retake their lost territory, but died during the attempt.

Severus’ successor Caracalla accepted that Hadrian’s Wall would be the permanent frontier, and never bothered expanding any further, though they did establish some military forts further north. 

That status quo remained for nearly 200 years, during which life in Roman ruled Britain was largely peaceful.

Scottish tribes breached the wall only twice, and for the most part, Roman soldiers were a rare sight compared to other parts of the empire, especially in the south.

The Romans built a complex network of roads across the island, connecting its various communities.

This allowed the spread of Roman culture to occur more easily.

Latin became the primary language on the island, and gradually even the indigenous Britons came to think of themselves as Romans.

In examining the remains of Roman houses in Britain, we don’t find much evidence of Celtic art. It’s all Roman stuff, even among the lower classes.

Over the course of generations, the local Britons seem to have entirely assimilated into Roman culture.

At least, the ones who survived the Roman invasion did.

Many modern British cities are former Roman towns.

Some of them are more obvious in their name.

Londinium, for example, was the Roman capital of Britain, and today it remains the capital, though it’s called London now.

Mancunium, as well, is called Manchester today.

Others are a curve ball – how did we get Verulamium to St. Albans?

The list goes on though.

Canterbury was Durovernum, Colchester was Camulodunum, Chester was Deva, and Dorchester was Durnovaria.

What’s with all the Chesters?

Neato. 

It’s tempting to think of Britain as sort of provincial, out in the boonies, less developed than the rest of the empire.

But the archaeological evidence tells a different story.

In fact, we’ve found some pretty spectacular baths in Bath, walls in Wall, and bitches in Bitchfield.

We’ve also found Roman pagan temples across the island. 

However, we have reason to believe the cult of Kybele had a presence in Britain as well, for more reason than just the grave we’ll be looking at soon.

We’ve found limited evidence of Kybele worship in London, Gloucester, Carrawburgh, and Corbridge.

The latter two are along Hadrian’s wall, which shows that the worship of Kybele spread to the furthest reaches of Britain.

There may have been temples at Chester and Verulamium as well, but we don’t know for certain (Lewis 117-8). 

Though Roman Britain managed to avoid much of the turmoil that faced the rest of the empire during the 3rd Century Crisis, it wouldn’t escape unscathed forever.

We’re told that Saxons, Picts, and other groups began raiding more heavily.

This is supported by the archaeological record as well. Toward the later years of the empire, we see some forts being built up on the shore of south Britain along the English Channel (Cleary 263).

These became more intense, but so too did attacks on the rest of the empire’s frontiers.

As a result, the Roman state became less and less able to support its holdings in Britain. 

Roman rule of Britain is said to have ended in 410 CE, where the 6^th century CE Byzantine historian Zosimus tells us, quote:

Honorius, having sent letters to the cities of Britain, counselling them to be watchful of their own security, and having rewarded his soldiers with the money sent by Heraclianus, lived with all imaginable ease, since he had acquired the attachment of the soldiers in all places. 

– Zosimus – New History, VI.X.II

This is debatable, and I don’t want to get into the controversy around it. But if Roman rule didn’t end here, it ended pretty soon after. 

From there, the Romans who lived in Britain were on their own. 

Chapter III: The Town of Cataractonium

Now, the grave we found is in Cataractonium, modern day Catterick.

So, let’s take a look. 

Before excavations began at Catterick, the only visible evidence of a Roman presence in the town was a section of a defensive wall built around it.

But we’ve dug up a lot more than that.

Between 1958 and 1997, a team led by J. R. Wacher and P. R. Wilson excavated the area. Then, from 2013-2017, Northern Archaeological Associates (NAA) conducted further excavations. I gather it was a difficult exploration because they were right up alongside an existing highway, and their deadlines were tight. These two expeditions give us most of what we know about the site.

I’ve read the reports for both, and they sometimes conflict, so whenever they disagree, I’ll defer to the newer one. 

Roman activity in the area seems to have begun around 70 CE, but there may have been a pre-Roman village there as well (Millett). It may have begun as a Roman fort or become one later, but either way there was a definite military presence (Millett, Wilson I XXIII).

Geographically, it was built along the south shore of the River Swale (Wilson 38). The region has some permeable and well-drained soil, which makes it suitable for agriculture, so we figure they must have done some of that as well (Wilson I 4-6).

We know it was called Cataractonium because the 2nd-century CE Greek writer Ptolemy told us. He says it was a city of the Brigantes, pre-Roman indigenous Britons (Wilson I 10). 

What about the smaller stuff?

We’ve dug up more than 3000 individual artifacts from this site.

Scholar Hillary Cool, yes that’s her name, yes it’s awesome, yes I’m sorry for making a joke out of your name Hillary I’m sure you’ve dealt with it your entire life and it’s plenty tiresome at this point, catalogued all of them. 

She also spent some time helping us understand what the site, its small item remains, and the human remains itself, can tell us, which is pretty Cool. This next section leans heavily on her work, for which I’m deeply grateful.

Now, let’s see what we can tell about the people of Cataractonium. What do we call them? Cataracts? No. Catamites? Definitely no. Cat Stevens?

We’re getting off track. 

We know the… Catamarans? Nah… were a fashionable bunch. The most common thing we found there are hobnails, which they would have used to make caligae, the classic Roman military boots, among other things (Cool 26). We also found many hairpins, indicating that the ladies of the town adopted Roman hairstyles from a fairly early date (Cool 26).

We’ve only found a few necklace pendants and fasteners, but considering how many beads we’ve found it seems that necklaces were also common for the ladies of Cataractonium (Cool 26-7). Bracelets became popular later on, during the 3rd and 4th centuries CE (Cool 27). 

Notably, two of the graves we’ve found have been shown to wear bracelets. But analysis suggests they were what we might call assigned male at birth (Cool 27-30).

Interesting… 

Other jewelry items we’ve found include earrings, brooches, rings, and gemstones (Cool 26). 

We’ve also found plenty of self care items – stuff you’d use to create medicine or for personal grooming.

This includes pestles which you’d use to create cosmetics, as well as tweezers, nail cleaners, razors, mirrors, and plenty more. 

Plenty of the… Catharses? Keep trying – would have been soldiers, since there was a garrison present. That shows in all the military stuff we’ve found there as well – weapons, armour, buckles, fasteners, horse harnesses, linchpins, the list goes on and on (Cool 31-32). 

But of course, you need more than just soldiers to run a town. The archaeological evidence shows us the Catalogues had a thriving manufacturing industry.

This includes bronze working, iron working, pewter plate-making, leather working, textile making, potting, and others.

We’ve also found a number of styli, Roman writing implements, which suggests literacy was fairly common there.

Awesome.

So there may have been historians and mythographers living there, but it may also have been from clerks or secretaries keeping tallies of trade. Some people also worked in agriculture and food preparation (Cool 32-37).

RELATED: Transgender Wisdom: The Myths of Teiresias

But by far the most important find here was the oldest pistachio ever found in Britain!

This was such a big deal that the UK Government put out a press release about it. Pistachios have always existed too (Highways England). 

I’m sorry, but there’s something so quintessentially British about an official UK government press release about the oldest pistachio in Britain.

It almost reads like a Monty Python sketch. 

And yeah I know, John Cleese sucks now, but at least Eric Idle and Michael Palin still seem cool.

Graham Chapman too, he hasn’t said anything problematic in a long time. 

Anyway, what about their houses?

We’ve found evidence of furniture made of cherry wood, with some elaborate metal fastenings, as well as plenty of cooking material. We’ve found some lamps and candleholders as well, but it’s not clear whether they were used in their houses in most cases.

But we also found some board games!

Or at least, the remains of some.

This includes game pieces made of stone, pottery, jet, and glass, as well as dice carved from bone. These are pretty common, showing that board games were a common pastime for the Cattington Bears (Cool 39). 

Where did the Catling Guns come from?

Well, we know Roman North Britain was a pretty cosmopolitan place. For example, we know at nearby Yorkshire there were graves of people from Italy, Gaul, Sardinia, and other places in Britain.

We don’t have that sort of evidence for graves in Cataractonium itself, but we have found some personal items from the Mediterranean, modern Germany, and as far as modern Russia.

This tells us it would also have been a pretty cosmopolitan place. 

What’s he up to these days? 

Of course. He’s gone full woman-hating incel racist Brexiteer, with some pro-ICE propaganda to boot. 

Turns out the goofballs who spent their entire careers blabbing on and on about TYRANNY and FASCISM end up deep-throating the boot when it actually arrives. 

Why does he always look so… moist? It’s like he takes a bath in petroleum jelly just before he shoots a video every day. 

*shudder*

Anyway, what about the religious life of the Catalytic Converters?

We’ve found evidence of the worship of Fortuna, Jupiter, Vulcan, Venus, Mercury, Bacchus, and of course, Kybele.

But have we found evidence of a confirmed temple to Kybele at Cataractonium?

It doesn’t seem so.

We do have evidence of such things at London and Gloucester in the south, but what about the north?

Well, we have evidence of temples at Carrowburgh and Corbridge, both of which were built along Hadrian’s Wall.

That’s further north than Cataractonium, of course. But we don’t see any evidence of a temple at our site (Lewis 117-8, Cool 41-42).

That could mean there really was no temple, or that we simply haven’t found evidence for it yet.

There’s more excavating to be done at Catterick, after all. 

We also found an inscription there that says DEAE SYRIA E ARAM SAIO BENEFICIARIVS.

Saio is a name, and the fact that it says “beneficiarius” means this was written by a soldier. Of course, Deae Syria means “to the Syrian Goddess” – Kybele (Moore 51). 

Even more, we found a poem inscribed in marble at Magnis, another Roman fort along Hadrian’s Wall, dedicated to the goddess.

It was probably the base of a statue that’s now been lost (Vermaseren 138-9).

It reads, quote:

The Virgin in her heavenly place rides upon the Lion; bearer of corn, inventor of law, founder of cities, by whose gifts it is man’s good lot to know the gods: therefore she is the Mother of the Gods, Peace, Virtue, Ceres, the Syrian Goddess, weighing life and laws in her balance. Syria has sent the constellation seen in the heavens to Libya to be worshipped: thence have we all learned. Thus has understood, led by thy godhead, Marcus Caecilius Donatinus, serving as tribune in the post of prefect by the Emperor’s gift. 

– Translated by R. P. Wright

This is clearly about Kybele, and the Libya it refers to is Carthage, which by this point was a Roman province. So there’s no reason to believe Kybele was not worshipped by the Catchers in the Rye. 

Alright, that’s enough about the Crummy Tired Bits. Let’s take a look at the graves. 

Chapter IV: The Galla Grave of Cataractonium

But the grave we’re interested in at Cataractonium is number 952, so I assume there were a lot of them.

Within grave 952, we found skeleton 951.

Why not number them both 952? So unnecessarily confusing.

Maybe there’s a good reason for this, I don’t know. Leave a comment if you know what it is.

Either way, I’m going to call her Nine, because it’s easier that way. 

Anyway, grave 952 had skeleton 951 of course, but that’s not all we found.

Presumably the skeleton was buried clothed, but that has long rotted away.

What we did find, though, is quite a bit of jewelry. 

In particular, our gal Nine was buried with a bead necklace, a bead bracelet (YORYM : 1980.16.8111320), both made of jet, a shale armlet (YORYM : 1980.16.8111319), and a bronze anklet (YORYM : 1980.16.8111321), as well as two stones placed in her mouth (Wilson 177, Parker 21).   

What’s jet?

It’s a semi-precious organic gemstone, formed from decomposing wood. In fact, it’s a type of coal.

The highest-quality jet comes from Whitby, about 80 kilometres from Catterick, on the east coast of Britain. And the Romans made jewelry out of it, obviously. Why would her bracelet and necklace have been made of jet?

The simple reason is that there was lots of jet in nearby Whitby, but there may be more to it than that.

Jet was viewed as having magical powers in the ancient world and was also associated with Eastern religious worship (Wilson II 41), so that may also have something to do with it. 

The photos I do have of the beads that belonged to the bracelet looked like this.

But that’s what jet bracelets look like, and that’s similar to what Nine would have worn when she died in Cataractonium.

Seeing Nine’s beads and the assembled bracelet made from other similar beads, I hope you can piece together what Nine’s would have looked like after having been assembled. 

This source also tells us we found a few other items in Nine’s grave, which I haven’t seen mentioned in the report.

This includes the remains of a hobnail boot (YORYM: 1980.16.8111331), a shard of blue glass (YORYM: 1980.16.8111312), and a piece of copper alloy clearly left over from a metallurgical process (YORYM: 1980.16.8111313).

What can these items tell us?

Not a lot. Maybe that’s why they aren’t mentioned in the main reports.

But it’s still cool for our purposes to see the items with which she was buried, which is what you’re looking at on the screen. 

Anyway, her bracelets, anklet, and necklace would have clearly marked Nine as effeminate.

There are plenty of other items shown here in the portrait that may have been in Nine’s grave as well, but would have long since rotted away. Nine’s clothing, for example, is long gone.

And unlike the Enaree priestess grave we explored, Nine’s outfit was nowhere near as elaborately decorated, so we can’t even really piece together what it may have looked like. 

The portrait also has alms, a drum, fruit, a turban, and an elaborate hairstyle, all of which would also be long gone if Nine had them. If she had cymbals, they could possibly have survived, but they might also have oxidized and turned to dust. It looks like the only things that survived were her bones, jewelry, and the three other items we just looked at, so that’s all we have to go on. 

Based on that evidence, archaeologists at first labeled this as a woman’s grave. However, osteological analysis tells us Nine is someone we might describe as assigned male at birth (Cool 2002, 18).

But Roman men don’t wear jewelry like that.

We have plenty of Roman men’s graves that don’t have such things, and plenty of statues, too. Effeminacy was something generally not tolerated in respectable Roman men. It was a sign they lacked virtus, or the Roman ideal of masculinity.

RELATED: Eunuchs in the Roman World

So the fact that Nine’s grave included women’s jewelry would have marked her as something different than a vir, or man. 

So, let’s recap. 

We know the Mater Magna, the great mother goddess Kybele, was very important to the Romans. We’ve found evidence of her worship across Roman Britain, including at the far reaches of its borders. 

We know that the priestesses of Kybele, the Gallae, were very gender-nonconforming in the Roman world. I’ve argued in the past that they’re one of the clearest examples of transgender identity in the ancient Mediterranean, and that’s something I still believe to be true. 

We know the Gallae were quite effeminate, but that Roman men shied away from displaying any sign of effeminacy, lest they show a lack of virtus. 

And we know that Nine’s grave goods included stuff considered to be effeminate in Roman society. 

So, is this the grave of a Galla priestess? 

I think it’s reasonable to think so, and I’m not alone in that analysis.

Hillary Cool, a contributor to the Cataractonium report I’ve been referencing over and over, originally proposed this interpretation of Nine’s grave back in 2002.

Of course, she did receive a lot of criticism for this claim. But instead of the usual gang of idiots on Twitter, it was subscribers to the Britarch (British Archaeology) forum.

That forum is sadly now gone, but Cool even says that “this could not be on the evidence because at that point nobody had had the opportunity to read it.” (Cool 2011, 20).

I love that even back then, knee-jerk reactionary yelly screamy men on the internet were doing their thing.

Some people just don’t know how to be anything but angry. 

Anyway, it doesn’t seem as though anyone has proposed a better interpretation of Nine’s grave. Cool even offers it like a challenge, saying “If you have doubts, please first read the full report in part 2 of Peter Wilson’s magnum opus, and then come up with a better story. I, for one, will be delighted to read it” (20).

So, when it comes to interpreting Nine’s remains, it looks like we have two options. 

I’m a centrist, I think both sides make good points! 

Now, we’ve also explored the possibility that this was a later burial.

Some 6^th century CE Anglian burials have been found in West Heslerton, about 50 kilometres away, who are safely identified as male but who also wore necklaces.

The 6^th century is, of course, the post-Roman era, so they had very different social mores. The occasional grave we’ve found has had a piece of Roman jewellery as well. However, Nine’s grave goods are all Roman, so it seems far less likely.

No, it’s pretty safe to say this is a Roman grave from the 4^th or 5^th century CE (Wilson II 41). And in case that wasn’t already convincing enough, radiocarbon dating confirms it (Wilson II 384). 

Anyway, thus far, we’ve looked at the grave goods of an Enaree priestess, and sculptures of two Gallae. Those were incredible, wonderful finds in their own right.

But today, we get to look at the actual physical remains of an ancient trans feminine priestess. This means we’re looking at her bones.

If you’re uncomfortable with that idea, I’ve hidden the photos behind the drop-down boxes below.

Click to see her in her grave

Click to see a close-up of her bracelets and beads

What you’re looking at here, friends, is the physical remains of a Galla priestess who lived, and died, in Britain, thousands of years ago. Like all of us, she returned to the Earth from whence she came, but what she left behind can tell us a lot more about her than you might think. 

In fact, using the remains we found, we’ve been able to reproduce an illustration of what Nine would have looked like. 

No, that’s not a shower cap. I know it kind of looks like one. It’s a turban.

We’ve seen descriptions of Gallae wearing turbans in the past. That includes both written descriptions (Vermaseren 97), and in the carving we looked at earlier.  

But in terms of the jewellery, that’s all based on archaeological evidence. Piecing together the beads we’ve found in Nine’s grave, this is what her necklace may have looked like.

She also had an anklet, which also isn’t pictured here, for the same reason as the boot bits.  

What else do we know about Nine? 

We know she was pretty young when she died – between 20 and 25 years old (Cool 2011, 18). Unfortunately, I couldn’t determine her height (Wilson II 384), which is a shame. Radiocarbon dating tells us she died toward the end of Roman rule in Britain (Wilson II 384), and I think that’s worth exploring a bit more. 

As we mentioned above, Roman rule in Britain ended in 410 CE, or shortly after. But we also know that the Roman Empire became an officially Christian state in 380 CE.

RELATED: Transgender Christians in History

That was when the emperors Theodosius in the East, and Gratian in the West, issued the Edict of Thessalonika.

But of course, government decrees don’t necessarily change things instantly.

Like, just because the government says something doesn’t mean it’s instantly true, right? The Romans weren’t the Borg. 

But also, Cataractonium was at the far reaches of the Empire. It’s less than 100 kilometres from Hadrian’s wall, which I know to you Brits is a long distance, but think about it for a moment. Christ was crucified in Jerusalem, which is as good a birthplace for Christianity as we’ve got. And take a look at the map here.

Here’s Jerusalem… and here’s Cataractonium. 

Is it any wonder it took them longer to get to Britain than anywhere else? 

We see this in the archaeological record as well. It seems Christianity spread more slowly into Britain than into the rest of the empire, judging by the limited number of Christian churches from that time.

This might be one of the reasons why it takes a while for any Christian saints to show up from Britain.

RELATED: Saint Pelagius of Antioch

There don’t seem to have been any major attempts to evangelize on the island until much later (Cleary 263-4). 

We’ve found a few chi rho symbols around, which was the first two letters in the word ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ (Christos) in Greek. Constantine used it as his symbol, and it became a general symbol for Christians later.

So wherever you see one, it’s a good bet there was a Christian there. But most – not all, but most – of these symbols have been debunked (Wilson I 89). 

So there may have been a Christian presence in Cataractonium, but it was definitely limited. 

RELATED: Saint Pelagius the Transgender Man

RELATED: Gender Transgression in Early Christianity

Is there any evidence Nine died a violent death?

It would make sense, since they died at a fairly young age. But I haven’t been able to find any notation of that.

I emailed Peter Wilson, whose name you’ll recognize from all the citations of his work I’ve made, but have yet to hear back from him. 

Is it possible, too, that Nine was a refugee from another part of the empire that did face violent repression of Pagans?

Sure, but the fact that her jewellery is made of jet makes me doubt this. If she were fleeing, one imagines she’d have sold her belongings gradually along the way to support herself. But she’s got those two elaborate jet pieces, which are most likely from Britain. 

However, analysis of her remains tell us she did grow up in a warmer climate – probably the south of Britain, or even mainland Europe.

So, she didn’t come from terribly far, relatively speaking (English Heritage). 

We do know that not every sanctuary to Kybele had its own archigallus. In the provinces, sometimes there was only a single Galla to a shrine (Vermaseren 108). So Nine may have been the keeper of the cult of Kybele at Cataractonium as well.

But considering how little evidence there is of any temple to Kybele at Cataractonium, it’s hard to say. 

I know that’s not a lot of information, but that’s how archaeology works. The further back in time you go, the muddier the information becomes. 

Chapter V: What Does All This Tell Us?

So, at the end of the day, what do we know about Nine? 

We know she died in Cataractonium, of course, and at a pretty young age. 

We also know she was what we might call assigned male at birth. But her grave goods were coded feminine in Roman society, so much so that archaeologists originally interpreted her grave to be female. 

Based on this, we can reasonably conclude she was a Galla priestess. Archaeologists – actual archaeologists – have been pretty clear about this. 

But guess what?

Nine isn’t the only trans feminine priestess we’ve found in ancient Britain. 

That’s right.

There are others. 

Remember earlier, when we talked about Nine’s jet bracelet? The one with all the beads? We looked at another, similar bracelet that came from another grave to get an idea of what Nine’s was like. And it turns out that the bracelet is from a Galla’s grave as well. 

There isn’t as much information about this one as I’ve been able to find, other than noting the jewellery and the similarities this Galla had with Nine (York Archaeology).

But that’s also pretty cool – there are two! 

On the other hand, the term TERF wasn’t coined until 2008 by trans-inclusionary feminist Viv Smythe, who used it to label the reactions some radfems had to trans women asserting their right to exist as women (Smythe).

Of course, there were transphobes before then, I know, don’t be pedantic. But an organized anti-trans backlash in the United Kingdom didn’t really begin in earnest until the TERF movement coalesced in the late 2010’s. That’s when a bunch of mostly affluent white women with nothing better to do decided to use their limited time on Earth to make others miserable. 

But rabid transphobia is genuinely something new to UK culture. Up until very recently, outward signs of gender nonconformity were widely embraced and accepted by the British public. 

As far back as the 60’s we had Danny la Rue and Dame Edna becoming household names, and it wasn’t long before Monty Python would tread similar ground. 

From the 30’s, we’ve got Old Mother Riley, who performed several roles on BBC shows. 

In 1918, after the First World War ended, the drag performing Les Rouges et Noirs debuted their shows to the British public. 

In 1906, American drag performer Julian Eltinge was invited to perform for King Edward VII at Windsor Castle. 

In the 1890’s, Vesta Tilley was what we would today call a drag king, playing several male roles in theatrical and musical performances. Some of those performances are still around too.

In 1700’s London, Princess Seraphina was… maybe? A drag persona? The information is limited, and it’s hard to tell if she was a drag queen or a trans woman. But for our purposes today, it doesn’t matter. Around 1732, she was hanging around in England’s molly houses. 

But even as late as the 90’s and 2000’s, drag was fine in UK culture. Comedian Paul O’Grady’s drag persona Lily Savage was at the top of her game when O’Grady retired the character in 2005. 

This is not a history of UK drag. And of course, drag queens aren’t trans women aren’t drag queens. Not definitionally. But there’s a clear overlap – some trans women begin by identifying as cis gay male drag queens before realizing why they’re so drawn to a feminine persona. Other trans women were first exposed to the idea of gender nonconformity through seeing drag. 

And of course, to TERFs, we’re all just mentally ill men in dresses anyway. 

So, what can this tell us? 

It tells us that the modern rabid TERFdom currently spreading across the UK is an artificial movement. A certain small subset of the population will always hate queer and trans folks, but the vast majority of people will default to a “live and let live” mentality. This is why the TERF movement never really took off until the Queen of Mold dumped her wizard money into the cause. 

Most people need to be taught to hate us. That’s why hate movements need to be well-funded. 

But this won’t last forever. 

If the situation were hopeless, the Queen of Mold wouldn’t need to spend her fortune on propaganda to tilt the scales in her favour. 

And the Queen of Mold won’t live forever. 

I was excited to talk about this video for many different reasons, but this is a big part of it. As transphobia becomes increasingly rabid across the pond, I wanted to offer a glimmer of encouragement. I know it’s scary right now. But perhaps you’ll take heart in learning that before her toxic tendrils pierced the fabric of UK culture, trans and gender nonconforming people lived and thrived across Britain. 

In spite of her, people like you still live and thrive in the UK. 

And when the Queen of Mold finally returns to the hell that spawned her, people like us will still be here. 

Because we have always existed. 

And so long as humanity continues to endure, so too, shall we. 

Works Cited

Ancient Sources:

►Saint Augustine. “De Civitate Dei Contra Paganos”. Translated by Rev. Marcus Dods. New York, T. & T. Clark, 1871.
►Caesar, Gaius Julius. “Comentarii de Bello Gallico”. Translated by H. J. Edwards. Loeb Classical Library 72. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1917. 
►Livy. “Ab Urbe Condita”. Translated by Aubrey de Selincourt. Toronto, Penguin Classics, 1965.
►Zosimus. “New History”. Translated by W. Green and T. Chaplin. London, 1814. 

Modern Sources:

►Carey, Chris, Et Al. “Beaker and Early Bronze Age Tin Exploitation in Cornwall: Cassiterite Processing Identified through Microwear and pXRF Analyses”. European Journal of Archaeology 26.2 (2023): 147–167. Accessed 7 November 2025.
►Cleary, Simon Esmonde. “The ‘end of the Gods’ in Late Roman Britain.” Gallia, vol. 71, no. 1, 2014, pp. 263–76. JSTOR. Accessed 25 Oct. 2025.
►Conway, Lynn. “Historical and cross-cultural evidence of transsexualism”. University of Michigan, 2006. Accessed 2 November, 2025. 
►Courtney, Edward. “The Fragmentary Latin Poets”. Cambridge, Oxford University Press, 2003.
►Cool, Hilary. “An Overview of the Small Finds from Catterick.” Wilson, P. R. 2002. Cataractonium Roman Catterick and Its Hinterland:  Excavations and Research, 1958-1997. Part II. CBARR 129 (2002): 24–43. Accessed 28 October 2025. 
►Cool, Hilary. “The Catterick Gallus”. Lucerna No. 24 (2002): 18–21. Accessed 2 November 2025.
►Dobie, Judith. “Reconstruction portrait of a Roman gallus, based on the human remains and jet jewellery excavated from Grave 951 at Site 46, Bainesse Farm, Catterick (Roman Cataractonium)”. Historic England Archive, 2002.
►English Heritage. “The Galli: Breaking Roman Gender Norms”. English Heritage LGBTQ+ History Blog. 2021.
►Fishwick, Duncan. “The Imperial Cult in Roman Britain.” Phoenix, vol. 15, no. 3, 1961, pp. 159–73. JSTOR. Accessed 24 Oct. 2025.
►Grigsby, Paul. “Bronze Age Britain”. Warwick Classics Network. University of Warwick. 10 August 2021. Accessed 8 January 2026.
►Harborough Museum. “Iron Age coin of the Corieltavi”. BBC History of the World, 2014. Accessed 23 October 2025.
►Highways England. “Archaeologists cracking Roman history along Dere Street, one of Britain’s oldest roads”. Government of UK Press Release. 2021. Accessed 2 November 2025.
►Jones, Amy. “Cataractonium: the Roman Town at Catterick, North Yorkshire”. CuraTerrae, 2021. Accessed 2 November 2025.
►Lendering, Jona. “Himilco”. Livius.org, 28 April 2020. Accessed 23 October 2025.
►Lewis, M. J. T. “Temples in Roman Britain”. New York, Cambridge University Press, 1965.
►Millett, Martin. “Roman Catterick Re-Visited”. Yorkshire Archaeological Journal, 94 (2002): 181–186. Accessed 25 October 2025.
►Moore, Clifford Herschel. “Oriental Cults in Britain.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. 11, 1900, pp. 47–60. JSTOR. Accessed 30 Oct. 2025. 
►Moriarty, Tom. “The Origins of English Place Names”. English Heritage Blog, September 2020. Accessed 25 October 2025.
►Parker, Holt. Archaeological Evidence for Ancient Roman Women Doctors: A Re-Examination. 2023.
►Pinto, Renato & Luciano. “Transgendered Archaeology: The Galli and the Catterick Transvestite”. Theoretical Roman Archaeology Journal (2013):169-181.
►Roller, Lynn. “In Search of God the Mother”. Los Angeles, University of California Press, 1999.
►Scott, Lionel. “Pytheas of Massalia: Texts, Translation, and Commentary”. New York, Routledge Classical Translations, 2022. 
►Sedawie, Ross. “Jet Gemstone: Properties, Meanings, Value & More”. Gem Rock Auctions, 2023. Accessed 3 November 2025.
►Smythe, Viv. “I’m credited with having coined the word ‘Terf’. Here’s how it happened”. The Guardian. 28 November 2018. Accessed 17 January 2026.
►Taylor, Frank Collins. “Caesar as an Orator”. Los Angeles, University of California Press, 1922.
►Vermaseren, Maartin J. “Cybele and Attis: the Myth and the Cult”. Translated by A. M. H. Lemmers. London, Thames and Hudson, Ltd, 1977.
►Whitelock, Dorothy, Et Al. “United Kingdom”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 23 Oct. 2025. Accessed 23 October 2025.
►Wilson, Peter R. “Cataractonium: Roman Catterick and its Hinterland. Excavations and Research, 1958-1997, Part 1”. Council for British Archaeology CBA Research Report 128, 2002.
►Wilson, Peter R. “Cataractonium: Roman Catterick and its Hinterland. Excavations and Research, 1958-1997, Part 2”. Council for British Archaeology CBA Research Report 128, 2002.
►Wyatt, S. “LON-CB9A74: A ROMAN BEAD”. Portable Antiquities Scheme. 2022. Accessed 2 November 2025. 
►York Archaeology. “International Transgender Day of Visibility: The Galli in Yorkshire”. York Archaeology, 2023. Accessed 8 November 2025. 
►York Museums Trust. “Online Catalog”. 

Images Used:

All images used are created by Sophie Edwards, public domain, or used under fair use, except:
►Parthenon photo by Sam Valadi CC2.0
►Colosseum photo by Sam Valadi CC2.0
►Indiana Jones Wax Museum by daveynin CC2.0
►Roman Empire under Trajan by Tataryn CC3.0
►Barton in the Beans sign by John Salmon CC2.0
►Ralph Feinnes photo by Steve Disenhof CC4.0
►Goblin by Armandeo64 CC4.0
Earth 1 million years ago by Ophadamia 2 CC4.0
►Butser ancient farm by Wessex Archaeology CC2.0
►Bronze shield by Gaius Cornelius CC2.0
►Bronze age gold cape by Mary Harrsch CC2.0
►Harry Potter sign by C. Suthorn CC4.0
►Hunter gatherers by Hans Splinter CC2.0
►Bust of Vespasian by shakko CC3.0
►Iceni map by Nwbeeson CC4.0
►Nero by Egisto Sani CC2.0
►Boudica chariot statue by Paul Walter CC2.0
►Boudica with daughters by Gerald England CC2.0
►Map of Roman Britain by Simeon Netchev CC4.0
►Vercingetorix statue by Carole Raddato CC4.0
►Section of Hadrian’s wall by quisnovus CC2.0
►Hadrian’s Wall may by NormanEinstein CC3.0
►Antonine wall by orientalizing CC4.0
►Rome at its height by Tataryn CC3.0
►Baths in Bath by Diliff CC2.5
►Brunton Turret at Wall by David Dixon CC2.0
►Dog figurine by the Trustees of the British Museum CC2.0
►Temple of Minerva by dksesh CC2.0
►Shrine to Minerva by John S. Turner CC2.0
►Roman temple at Bath by Billy Wilson CC2.0
►Roman fort at Hastings by Neil Howard CC2.0
►Cataractonium excavation photos by Cura Terrae Fair Use
►Caliga by MatthiasKabel CC3.0
►Hairpins from the Wellcome Collection CC4.0
►Mortarium by AgTigress CC3.0
►Styli by LessayCatus CC3.0
►John Cleese photo by John Manard CC2.0
►Roman board game by BabelStone CC3.0
►Statue of Roman youth by Egito Sani CC2.0
►Other statue of Roman youth by Юкатан CC3.0
►Creepy basement by hthrd CC2.0
►Terracotta warriors by Kevin Poh CC2.0
►Archigallus by Sailko CC3.0
►Bracelet Beads by The Portable Antiquities Scheme CC2.0
►Map of Asia Minor by Caliniuc CC4.0
►Galla Shale Armlet by York Museums Trust CC4.0
►Galla illustration by Judith Dobie, copyright Historic England Archive. All rights reserved.