Morgan Owen chats reclaiming lost history in Gladiator, Goddess

History often forgets the ones who fought hardest to be remembered. With Gladiator, Goddess, Morgan Owen shines a light on the lost women and queer lovers of ancient Rome, blending myth, power, and passion into a story that feels both epic and deeply human.

This guest post is written by Morgan Owen, author of Gladiator, Goddess. 

It is said that history is written by the winners, so naturally it’s preferential to those in power, past and present. Historically, the people in power tend to be men, which means the histories of women and minorities are often untold. These histories exist in the form of archaeological crumbs: a relief, a love spell, a text about astronomy, a painted picture on the wall of a bathhouse… In writing Gladiator, Goddess, I tried to take these fragments and create a mosaic.

I’ve been to Rome and Pompeii but nothing could prepare me for the Herculean task of reimagining life in the shadow of Vesuvius in 79 AD. Cue months of deep dive research. A lot of what I learned was surprisingly modern. The ancient Romans enjoyed gossiping, drinking, cheering on their favourite competitors and forming romantic infatuations. In graffiti, citizens declared their timeless love for babes, banter and bread.

We know a lot about ancient Rome, and yet the history of women gladiators is obscure. We know a woman named Amazon or Amazonia fought another gladiatrix, and that gladiators were banned across the empire in 200 AD for being ‘indecent’. There were no schools for gladiatrices, who were often made to fight topless for male enjoyment. Enslaved female gladiators fought for their freedom but others came from privileged backgrounds. They became gladiators not by force, but by choice. They chose to fight, and chose to die.

The gods also reinforced the Roman patriarchy, with Jupiter being a tireless menace to women much like his Greek counterpart, yet the goddesses were commonly depicted as warriors. They had a power in society as defenders of Rome that wasn’t reflected in the lives of mortal women: they were not permitted to be soldiers in the Roman army, though its legions faced many women warriors overseas.

Gladiator, Goddess is also a queer love story. Much has been written about Roman men loving men. It was socially acceptable for an emperor to have a male lover or several. There were various terms to describe the complex dynamics of male-male relationships. Rome was a society obsessed with male power, and gay sex had a role in that culture. In contrast, lesbianism was seen as a degenerate distraction, offensive due to its lack of men. Evidence is scarce – there is no documentation of a known Roman woman who had relationships with other women – yet the legend of Sappho persisted in the form of a Pompeii mural of the famous poet from Lesbos. One early Greek historian writes: “They say there are women like that in Lesbos, masculine-looking, but they don’t want to give it up for men. Instead, they consort with women.”

This inspired me to tell a story about what might’ve been, rather than what was. I’ve always been fascinated by alternate histories, and every god’s origin story has multiple variations. Mythology is all about reinvention in the retelling. Perhaps there was a version of Rome in which a female gladiator triumphed, or an emperor’s daughter became empress thanks to the intervention of the goddesses. Perhaps they popularised the sapphic lifestyle. Perhaps there was a Rome where emperors like Caligula were driven by power-hungry gods. Perhaps there was a Rome that fell sooner, or never at all.

If history is made up, then at least let it be a page turner.