
In around AD 60, the philosopher, statesman, tutor, dramatist and massive hypocrite Seneca the Younger just so happened to pop into a gladiatorial show expecting, as he put it, " ... fun, wit, and some relaxation, when men's eyes take respite from the slaughter of their fellow men." (Moral Epistles, vii.3)
One might reasonably question why, then, he popped into a gladiatorial show and not, say, a local basket-weaving class or a lute-playing workshop instead of a display in which the only thing men were trying to do with eyes was pop them out of each other's skulls with their thumbs.
It is, of course, possible that Seneca was just trying to be ironic, but as he was such an asshole, it's sometimes hard to tell.
"It was just the reverse!" he goes on, shocked. "The preceding combats were merciful by comparison; now all trifling is put aside and it is pure murder. The men have no protective covering. Their entire bodies are exposed to the blows, an no blow is ever struck in vain ... In the morning men are thrown to the lions and the bears, at noon they are thrown to their spectators. The spectators call for the slayer to be thrown to those who in turn will slay him., and they detain the victor for another butchering. The outcome for the combatants is death ...." The crowd get into it with wild abandon. "... kill him! Lash him! Burn him! Why does he meet the sword so timidly? Why doesn't he kill boldly? Why doesn't he die game!?"
There's then what Seneca calls an intermission, during which the crowd call out for more blood: "Let's have men killed meanwhile! Let's not have nothing going on!"
This "intermission" is an interesting moment because although it implies a period of nothing going on, the "pause" being described is simply a delay in the slaughter. There are other things going on; they just don't involve people being eviscerated. There might be animal displays, perhaps some fellows juggling or acrobats prancing about being annoying, and, of course, it's a chance for some chaps to go out and scrape up all the body parts.
But would there have been any women? Without going full Monty Python about it, women would have been in the crowd as long as they sat in the top section (Suetonius, Augustus, 44) of a crowd divided horizontally into three. But were there ever women gladiators?
The question is fraught with historiographical challenges. Roman moralists frequently condemned women who transgressed traditional gender roles, and legal prohibitions (such as the Senatus Consultum of Larinum, AD 19) explicitly sought to prevent elite women from dishonouring themselves in the arena. Additionally, the term gladiatrix is a modern neologism—no extant Latin inscription employs it. Instead, references to armed women in the arena appear under ambiguous terminology such as feminae (women), ludiae (performers), or venatrices (beast-hunters).
Cassius Dio's Roman History provides one of the most explicit accounts of women fighting in the arena. In 66.25, he describes Emperor Nero’s games in which "women as well as men… fought in the orchestra, and also slew beasts" (Dio, 66.25). Crucially, Dio specifies that these women participated in venationes (beast hunts), a form of gladiatorial spectacle where combatants faced wild animals rather than human opponents. While modern scholarship sometimes distinguishes between venatores (beast-fighters) and gladiatores (sword-fighters), Roman sources frequently conflated the two, as both were armed performers who risked death for public entertainment. Both, in the correct sense, are gladiators.
Later, in 67.8, Dio records that Domitian hosted nocturnal games featuring women battling dwarves. This spectacle, though bizarre, reinforces the notion that women were integrated into arena combat, albeit in roles designed to shock and titillate rather than exemplify martial virtue. Dio’s accounts are invaluable because they are not satirical but historiographical, suggesting that female participation, while uncommon, was a documented phenomenon under certain emperors.
Statius’ Silvae (1.6) references an event where "women of distinction" participated in a public venatio. While this does not confirm formal gladiatorial duels, it demonstrates that elite women could engage in violent arena spectacles—albeit in a more socially sanctioned context than sword-fighting. The Senatus Consultum of Larinum (AD 19, CIL IX, 728) explicitly forbade senators' daughters and granddaughters from appearing in the arena, implying that some high-status women had previously done so. This legal prohibition underscores the tension between aristocratic dignity and the sensational appeal of female combatants.
Juvenal's Satires (6.246–267) mock women who train as gladiators, deriding one who "thirsts for the sword’s bite" and "abandons her sex" to fight in the arena. Though satirical, Juvenal’s account would lack rhetorical force if the concept of female gladiators were entirely fictitious. His vitriol aligns with broader Roman anxieties about gender inversion, particularly the fear that upper-class women might reject domestic roles for the bloody glamour of the arena. Notably, Juvenal distinguishes between gladiatorial combat (which he treats as aberrant) and venationes (which he does not mention here), suggesting that female sword-fighters were considered especially transgressive.
Tacitus (Annals 15.32) records that Nero compelled aristocratic women to fight beasts in the arena as punishment for alleged crimes. This account, though framed as a tyrannical excess, confirms that women, albeit unwillingly, could be forced into lethal arena performances. Unlike voluntary venatrices, these women were victims of political persecution, yet their presence in the arena further blurs the line between gladiatorial and venatorial roles.
The literary evidence collectively confirms that women participated in armed arena spectacles, but the nature of their involvement remains contested. Key observations include:
Venationes were a form of gladiatorial combat, and women’s involvement in them is well-attested.
Formal female gladiators (sword-fighters) were rare but not unheard of, particularly under emperors who relished shocking the public.
Elite women were legally barred from the arena, suggesting that some had previously engaged in such displays.
Satirical and moralising texts exaggerate but do not invent the phenomenon of female fighters.
The most compelling material evidence comes from a 1st–2nd century AD marble relief discovered in Halicarnassus (modern Bodrum, Turkey), now held in the British Museum (BM 1847,0424.19). It depicts two armed women, "Amazon" and "Achillia," equipped with swords, shields, and greaves—the standard gear of gladiatores, not venatores. The Greek inscription declares they "fought honourably and were discharged" (μισθωσάμεναι ἐξ ἴσου ἀπέλυσαν), confirming they were professional combatants who earned their freedom.
This relief is the only undisputed depiction of female gladiators in the archaeological record. Its provenance in Asia Minor suggests that female combatants may have been more accepted in the Greek-speaking East, where Amazonian imagery held cultural resonance.
A graffito from Pompeii (CIL IV, 10236) shows two figures labelled "Mevia" and "Hilara" wielding tridents, possibly as retiarii (net-fighters). However, the lack of context makes it unclear whether they were gladiators or performers in a mythological re-enactment. "Mevia" appears as a character in another of Juvenal's Satires (1.22-23), where her sexual allure is highlighted.
"When a tender eunuch takes him a wife; when Mevia
Fights a Tuscan boar, with bare breasts, gripping the spear;"
Osteological analysis of the Ephesus gladiator burials (Kanz & Grossschmidt, 2005) revealed that some female remains exhibited trauma consistent with arena combat. However, without accompanying inscriptions, it is impossible to confirm whether these women were gladiators, venatrices, or even spectators caught in violence.
The weight of evidence confirms that female gladiators existed in Ancient Rome, though they were exceptional and socially contentious. Literary sources attest to women participating in venationes (beast fights), while the Halicarnassus relief proves that some even fought as sword-wielding gladiatores. Legal prohibitions and satirical critiques further underscore that female combatants were a reality, albeit a scandalous, sexualised and perhaps even frivolous one.
The reluctance of Roman society to celebrate female gladiators might explain the paucity of evidence. Unlike their male counterparts, gladiatrices were neither heroicised nor systematically recorded, surviving only as footnotes in histories and fragmentary artworks. Yet their existence challenges modern assumptions about gender roles in antiquity, revealing a complex hierarchy of violence, spectacle, and social transgression.
References and Further Reading:
Cassius Dio. Roman History.
Juvenal. Satires.
Statius. Silvae.
Tacitus. Annals.
Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (CIL) IV, 10236; IX, 728.
British Museum, Halicarnassus Relief (BM 1847,0424.19).
Kanz, F., & Grossschmidt, K. (2005). "Head Injuries of Roman Gladiators." Forensic Science International, 160(2–3), 207–216.