A Proposed Gender Division for Ancient Norse Society

As with many ancient cultures, our society often envisions the vikings as brutish, misogynistic, and completely male-dominated. However, thoughtful examination of historical artifacts and texts does not necessarily support this narrative. I propose that while there was a strong divide in viking society between two separate societal, gender-based roles, this divide did not separate people by their biological sex. Rather, “gender” in Norse society was performative, and either sex could participate in either gender. So while people were still considered male or female according to their sex organs, they also had a unique gender that determined their role in society, which, for the sake of this essay, I will be calling “protector” and “protected”. (Another scholar, Carol Clover, has formerly proposed a one-sex, two-gender divide between “powerful/powerless” in Norse society, but I contend that the submissive gender was not powerless, but rather subject to different expectations and norms surrounding honor and proper conduct) (6). Women, therefore, more commonly occupied the protected gender, while men were expected to become protectors in adulthood, which explains some of the apparent male-female division of power in viking literature, especially in later Christian texts when legendary figures were adapted to a more patriarchal worldview, as seen in the changes between Volsunga Saga and the Nibelungenlied. But during the course of this essay, I will explain and examine how people (and Gods) of both sexes frequently crossed over to the other gender, and were, in some cases, even encouraged to do so by the traditions of Norse society. This will be done by outlining the societal roles of both proposed genders with examples of both men and women performing them, looking at dialogue and feats associated with mythological figures that transcend biological sex, and examining the archaeological and literary evidence for hierarchical divison in viking society that does not follow a clear male-female division.

First, it’s important to understand what “protected” and “protector” mean in my proposed context for Norse society. These classifications did not replace sex— men were still referred to as such, as were women (potentially transgender members of Norse society are beyond the scope of this essay, but acknowledged as a possibility.) Rather, there were two distinct societal roles that occupy what we would consider “gender roles”, with the exception that they could be fulfilled by either biological sex. For example, one of the primary jobs of the protector gender was to serve as leaders, both of warriors and of kingdoms. While we typically associate this role with men— think Beowulf, Hrothgar, and Sigurd— there are multiple stories of women becoming captains of viking warbands or acting as the sole queen over kingdoms, with little question as to the quality of her leadership (11). Maiden-kings also selected their own husbands based on their worthiness as a warrior and partner, another trait typically associated with men, who often chose wives with little input from the women themselves. These female leaders, as well as several other classes of women, additionally participated in what was likely the most important role of protectors— fighting. Many of the Norse sagas detail the glory of male warriors (Sigurd the dragon slayer, Beowulf), but biological females also participated in raiding and battle, which is captured both in mythology and the archaeological record. Outsider cultures that were the subject of viking raids write about finding fully armed and armored women among fallen warriors on the field, and a DNA testing has recently confirmed that the fully-stocked grave of a military leader— complete with horses, beautiful armor, and an assortment of weapons— belonged to a biological female after archaeologists initially classified it as a male burial site (12). This warrior role is reflected in Norse mythology by stories of the Valkyries, supernatural females who both decided the fates of human battles and were fearsome fighters themselves. Though they were not traditionally feminine, Valkyries were still represented in the texts as women, oftentimes wearing feminine clothes beneath their armor and being referred to with female pronouns and descriptions. They exemplified the idea that “manly virtues”— courage, strength, and glory— were valued above everything in Nordic society, but were not limited to men alone. Rather, great deeds and skill in battle became the signature of both men and women within the protector gender (14). But that was not their only purpose; protectors had another infrequent but still major role— revenge-taking. Just as men were expected to be protectors, male relatives were typically the first to take revenge. However, in cases where there were no living, old-enough, or willing male family members, women would take it upon themselves to take up arms and avenge their relatives. In fact, they were expected to (7). In some cases, women would seek revenge immediately and violently, without having to incite and manipulate male relatives “behind the scenes” as many women are portrayed doing in texts like the Nibelungenlied. The fact that these figures— such as the mythological heroine Hervör (11) or the cruel villain Grendel— are not admonished for taking revenge into their own, female hands is further proof that revenge-taking was not a sex-differeniated activity, but rather the role of anyone in an avenged-person’s family with the protector gender.

The roles and expectations of the “protected gender” are somewhat more vague. In certain cases, protected gender was more about what a person could not do, compared to what they actually did in society. For example, the “slave” social class were almost entirely protected gender, despite consisting of both men and women. This is because slaves (or thralls) were not allowed to carry weapons, go viking, or earn glory as freed members of society did. Though many thralls were only farmers, others were skilled craftsmen, or trusted advisors and stewards, with a relatively comfortable place in society. Still, their inability to pursue the aforementioned “manly virtues” (regardless of sex) did not afford them protected gender, and male slaves would undoubtedly be viewed as having less strength, honor, and value than warrior women (4). Of course, free women who chose to weave, tend land and their homes, and avoid combat were also protected gender, though they had the option of “switching” for purposes of revenge-taking if it became necessary. These women also performed perhaps the most important function of their gender: child-bearing. We see multiple times throughout Nordic stories that women otherwise considered protector gender (shield-maidens, maiden-kings, and valkyries) enter a more protected lifestyle after “settling down”. Oftentimes, they lose their supernatural powers and shift their skills from war to protecting their families and weaving. Textually, more feminine actions and descriptions were given to these women (wearing jewelry and serving mead, in the case of Sigrún) to emphasize their new social standing (14). This is why women were often thought of as intrinsically protected— because most women would marry and have children, and did so at a young age. But unlike thralls, freed maidens had the power to change genders and obtain the glory and benefits that accompanied it so long as they remained childless. (While less drastic for men, it’s worth noting that Odin supposedly disapproved of marriage for his warriors (3) and that Viking warbands and raiding parties were largely unmarried males (13), implying that “settling down” was frowned upon for anyone of the protector gender, not only combatant women.) Finally, the protected gender was also responsible for sorcery and magic— hence magic being primarily practiced by women (this point is largely why I reject Clover’s designation of “powerless” for what I am referring to as the protected gender.) But the primary magic— known as seiðr— was not biologically restricted to women; men could also practice seiðr. In fact, Odin was considered a master of sorcery, surpassing even the goddess Freya, who had taught him seiðr and was revered as the one who often granted it to humans. Snorri himself, however, tells us that male practitioners of magic were ergi— dishonorable, and pariahs to society (1). Free men were expected from birth to be protectors, and therefore switching to protected gender (through the practice of seiðr) was deeply frowned on, even though it was clearly possible for men to become greatly successful at sorcery. This may have been because seiðr granted the power of illusion, trickery, shapeshifting, and bewitchment, abilities that directly contradicted the manly virtues of honorable combat and physical strength. Therefore, women became the primary practitioners of magic in Norse society, not because their sex made them intrinsically better at it, but because their protected gender allowed them to do it without shame. (It is worth noting that supernatural protector women, though often inhumanly strong, rarely practiced seiðr-type magic, especially prior to childbirth.)

In Norse mythology, we see examples of how these gender roles could transcend biological sex. Along with Odin practicing magic and Freya having her own hall of fallen heroes, perhaps the most prominent role-bender is Loki. Despite being a male god, Loki gives birth to various prominent characters in Norse stories, including various powerful witches and Odin’s horse, Sleipnir. The other gods, predictably, mock him for this. However, their derision does not stem from the idea that what Loki did was “unnatural” as a man— in fact, Loki’s pregnancies themselves are never questioned. Rather, he is berated for dishonoring his manliness by giving birth (10), which is a role reserved for the protected gender (which freed men are not supposed to occupy.) In Lokasenna, Loki seems largely unbothered by this chastisement, and responds by pointing out ways that each of his fellow gods have dishonored themselves or acted outside of their prescribed gender role (2). This may be because Loki, a trickster, illusionist god that does not typically use “manly virtue” to get his way, is content with the protected gender role, and therefore does not feel threatened by his child-birthing being pointed out. The same is not true for Thor— a hyper-masculine god, and the epitome of a skillful protector— when he must dress as a bride in the Prose Edda in order to fool a giant and reclaim his hammer. Without a weapon, in a bride’s dress, and engaging in deception, Thor is much more “protected” than “protector”, and the author clearly intends this to be comedic and ridiculous (14). Why, then, is Loki’s genderfluid pregnancy and childbirth not depicted as funny, despite being even more unlikely for a man? Perhaps it is because Thor’s crossdressing goes completely against his protector gender role, whereas Loki’s children— though frowned upon— are not wholly unexpected for someone in the protected gender he seems to commonly conform to, and are therefore less “unbelievable.”

Though not limited solely to Norse society, I would like to briefly mention a common, archaic belief among European societies: that women were “underbaked” men, or that the human “default” was maleness, which could be corrupted or eroded into femalehood (8). The ancient Danish scholar Saxo Grammaticus was one such believer in this theory, and wrote that ancient shield-maidens were so fierce and masculine that they managed to “unsex” themselves, meaning that they had managed to fix their “deformed” female bodies, stripping away feminine characteristics to reveal the perfect, male form beneath (9). Though it is unlikely that the Norse themselves shared this belief, it was likely quite common among the “medically educated” Christian translators (as the “biologically inferior woman” rhetoric was adopted by the Church (15) and scribes of the time), and may partially explain why it seems that women becoming protectors is seemingly common in mythology, while men acting as the protected gender are more frowned upon; women “becoming men” was an improvement, while men acting more female was inherently a downgrade. The influence of misogynistic science on the monks’ worldview (and reliability as translators) is another topic beyond the scope of this essay, but it is a speculative point that I thought was worth including, as it provides some potential context to a recurring pattern seen throughout the Christian authors’ surviving texts.

Finally, I will examine the hierarchical division we see in many Norse texts, which seem to fall along a protector/protected divide, rather than strictly male/female. While deeply Christianized stories such as the Nibelungliad include misogynistic concepts like female seclusion and submission, along with marital rape and disrespect for violent women (like Kriemhild), there are far fewer of these ideas represented in older, more Pagan-rooted texts. In stories like Volsunga Saga, Beowulf, and the myths contained in the Prose Edda, power division is rarely biological male over biological female. Instead, we see gods pitted against giants, morally-upstanding heroes and leaders against the vile social outcasts, or the members of one family feuding with the other, regardless of sex. Valor, noble parentage, and adherence to the etiquette of society (feuds, generosity, and honor) distinguished those with power— the greatest protectors— from the people they ruled. Petty kings and maiden-kings led warbands of both men and women; their protector status overrode any sex identity (11).  Slaves, by definition the lowest in the social hierarchy, could only be protected gender, regardless of their biological sex. Even within interpersonal relationships, particularly marriages, we see evidence of this power divide; prior to the adoption of Christian practices, women were able to freely divorce their husbands for a variety of reasons, including striking her, attempting to steal from her, or acting dishonorably (5). Her marriage to him— her role as a homemaker, mother, and weaver— was dependent on his maintaining the manly virtues of protector gender, and women were not beholden to men as the protected were to the protectors. The archaeological record, too, shows evidence of the societal division of careers and power not occurring along a solid sex-based divide. The deceased were often buried with materials, tools, and items related to their profession, and, as previously discussed, both male and female graves have been discovered with full battle regalia and grave goods indicating wealth and power during life. But both men and women have also been found with scales (for trade) and carpentry tools, implying those jobs could be occupied by either sex. And while female graves make up the majority of those found with sewing materials, men were also buried with those implements, and evidently not excluded from the craft (12). Altogether, this evidence seems to imply that sex was not the ultimate dividing factor for employment (and the accompanying status) in viking society, and while sex definitely informed an individual’s societal gender role, it was ultimately what side of the protector-protected divide they belonged to that decided how much power they wielded.

Throughout this essay, I have discussed how a male-female perspective of Norse society is reductive, and should be replaced by a non sex-specific model of protectors and protecteds. The protector role involved things we perceive as traditionally masculine— leadership, fighting, and avenging relatives, but it was not constrained to only biological males, as proven by textual and archaeological evidence. Likewise, the protected gender involved slaves and sorcerers of both sexes, not only home-keeping wives and mothers. Myths of Loki, Odin, and Thor acting contrary to the expectation of the male sex, and the treatment of these transgressions by the authors, seem to imply that there multiple paths for a man to take, and those that were frowned upon were not disapproved for violating biological laws, but because they went against the expected gender role for men. Finally, we’ve seen in the archaeological, historical, and mythological record that the Norse did not often adhere to a simple male-dominate hierarchy in their stories or society. Rather, dominance was a complex status that depended on an individual’s gender— protector over protected— and then how honorably they were performing that expected role. While it is not a perfect division, and I am not denying that biological sex had immense impact on a person’s expected role, profession, and power, I believe that this is a more accurate and thoughtful system for describing the “gender” of an individual in ancient Norse society, and will function as a more honest lens to examine the ways in which both their sex and gender affected the course, relationships, and memory of their life.

Bibliography

(1) Bell, Jacob. “Magic, Genderfluidity, and queer Vikings, ca. 750-1050.” History Compass 19, no. 5 (April 2021): 1-9. https://doi.org/10.1111/hic3.12657

(2) Bellows, Henry Adams (translator). The Poetic Edda. First Edition. Evinity Publishing, 1936. https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe10.htm

(3) Bray, Olive, translator and editor. The Elder or Poetic Edda, commonly known as Sæmund's Edda, part I: The Mythological Poems. London: Printed for the Viking Club, 1908. http://vsnrweb-publications.org.uk/The%20Elder%20or%20Poetic%20Edda.pdf

(4) Brink, Stefan. Slavery in the Viking Age. First Edition. London: Routledge, 2008. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203412770

(5) Byock, Jesse L. Viking Age Iceland. First edition. London: Penguin Books, 2001. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333339/viking-age-iceland-by-jesse-l-byock/

(6) Clover, Carol. “Maiden Warriors and Other Sons.” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 85, no. 1 (January 1986): 35-49. https://www.jstor.org/stable/27709600

(7) Holcomb, Kendall M. “Pulling the Strings: The Influential Power of Women in Viking Age Iceland.” Western Oregon University 45, (September 2015). https://digitalcommons.wou.edu/his/45/ 

(8) Horowitz, Maryanne Cline. “Aristotle and Women.” Journal of the History of Biology 9, no. 2 (September, 1976): 183-213. hhttps://www.jstor.org/stable/4330651

(9) Layher, William. “Caught Between Worlds: Gendering the Maiden Warrior in Old Norse.” Women and the Medieval Epic (2007): 183-208. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-137-06637-4_9.

(10) Morozow, Helena Bassil. “Loki then and now: the trickster against civilization.” International Journal of Jungian Studies 9, no. 2 (March 2017): 84-96.  https://doi.org/10.1080/19409052.2017.1309780

(11) Norman, Lena. “Woman or Warrior? The Construction of Gender in Old Norse Myth.” Old Norse myths, literature and society: The proceedings of the 11th International Saga Conference (July 2000): 375-385. http://sagaconference.org/SC11/SC11_Norrman.pdf

(12) Petersen, Freyja. “Women and Gender in Viking Militaries.” Historia Nova 3, no. 1 (April 2021): 50-63. https://history.duke.edu/sites/history.duke.edu/files/documents/HN2021Springf.pdf 

(13) Raffield, Ben, Neil Price, & Mark Collard. “Male-biased operational sex ratios and the Viking phenomenon: an evolutionary anthropological perspective on Late Iron Age Scandinavian raiding.” Evolution and Human Behavior 38, no. 3 (May 2017): 315-324. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.evolhumbehav.2016.10.013

(14) Self, Kathleen M. “The Valkyrie’s Gender: Old Norse Shield-Maidens and Valkyries as a Third Gender.” Feminist Formations 26, no. 1 (April 2014): 143-172. https://muse.jhu.edu/article/542923

(15) Wijngaards, John.  “Women were considered Inferior Creatures,” Wijngaards Institute for Catholic Research. https://womenpriests.org/tradition/inferior-women-were-considered-inferior-creatures/#fathers