#the Ptolemies were neither Egyptian nor did they want to be

[lightdancer1]

To make two examples of how modern black and white (pun intended) thinking can trip people up from the past, here's one from Egypt

To begin with, there's the old point that all the obsessions with Pharaonic Egypt forget that Muslim Egypt resurrected the concept of powerful states with imperial ambitions, instead of the cash cow of Greek or Roman imperial states. The Fatimids, the Mamluks, and then the Khedives restored Egypt to a great power and one of the culture centers of the Arab world.

So here's a little question then. Is an ethnic Turk from Albania, who becomes ruler of Egypt, an imperialistic warlord who exploited a power vacuum and built the first European-style state in the region and deliberately wielded it with great will and malice aforethought, or is he a great hero of the Muslim world who had an Icarus moment that meant his successors were given a thing of great value with crucial weaknesses neither they nor he fully anticipated would be what they were?

Related to this, why is it that Muslim Egypt never gets taken into accounts with discussions of Egypt and its culture? Did Egyptians cease to be Egyptians when the last Ptolemy committed suicide after Actium? Or is that people can't pull the 'Arabs are white' routine or claim that the Muslim dynasties are Black and were Black all along and since neither Eurocentric nor Afrocentric views can manipulate this and Eurocentric views hardly want to accentuate the role of the Fatimid and Abuyyid and Mamluk states anyway outside the lens of the Crusades, well.....

[peremadeleine]

in response to @tiny-librarian​’s oft-repeated Stacy Schiff quote on Cleopatra VII’s skin tone I saw someone say “Is it just me or do I sense hostility towards the idea Cleopatra might’ve been black? Or am I reading wrong?”

yes, you are reading that wrong! 

there are, I’m sure, bigots and idiots who probably are hostile to that idea--but the historians and biographers and history lovers sharing this information are simply trying to clarify historical fact vs. historical myth

for one thing, Cleopatra was not dark-skinned; not lily-white, certainly, but definitely not what most people would now consider black, either (it’s also important to note is that modern ideas about race were formed between 350 and 500 years ago; these ideas would not have been ascribed to or even necessarily understood two thousand years ago!) she came from a light-skinned (or, at least, “honey-skinned”) and, by the way, xenophobic non-Egyptian family, and she was the product of centuries of incestuous marriages

when people say this, what’s being stated is this: a member of a dynasty of FOREIGN CONQUERORS (Greeks in this case), most of whom couldn’t even be bothered to learn the native language(s) of their conquered and subjugated people (Egyptians), and who almost exclusively married their own sisters/bothers or uncles/nieces in order to keep their bloodline “pure,” was of neither the same ethnicity nor the same appearance of the people whose lands their dynasty ruled

it’s not a value statement, simply a statement of fact; and in any other context, most people would probably never claim that a family of Westerners (the Greek Ptolemies) who usurped power over a non-Western country (Egypt) were of the same ethnicity as their non-Western subjects (native Egyptians), but for some reason people really want Cleopatra to have been, ethnically/genetically, something she was very much not

some awesome ancient Egyptian queens who were ethnically African:

Hatshepsut, Pharaoh of the 18th Dynasty

Nefertiti, Great Royal Wife of Akhenaten

Nefertari Merytmut, Great Royal Wife of Ramses “the Great” II

these women are among the most famous (and a quick google search away)--there are literally hundreds of others, though, given the thousands of years during which Pharaohs ruled in ancient Egypt

Cleopatra VII was extremely intelligent--and politically astute; she actually learned the native Egyptian language--and charismatic--she held sway over Julius Caesar, for God’s sake--not to mention extremely famous, historically. But she was not of Egyptian descent. She was Greek.

[rangerdrabbles]

A Gorgon in Boo York (Sort of)

Takes place in the #monsterhigh universe, featuring another character of mine. Set in the MH movie “Boo York, Boo York”.

Summary: Someone wants to stop the wedding between Cleo and Seth...but it might not be who you think.

When Sedusa Gorgon heard from her brother that the de Niles were going to Boo York and invited him along, she got a bad feeling. Of course she always got a bad feeling when it came to the family of her brother’s girlfriend-because that had been the family she’d been born into. Her real name was, in fact, Sitamun de Nile, though it was a name she hadn’t used in centuries. She’d taken the name Sedusa Gorgon shortly after she’d escaped her family’s pyramid on the back of an unwilling Amanita Nightshade all those years ago.

If the de Niles went anywhere, it meant they wanted something. Apparently they were going to visit the Ptolemys, another well known and respected family of Egyptian royalty. 

Pay their respects, indeed. Ramses de Nile wanted something, and she was going to find out what. 

Deuce knew everything of her past-she’d told him as soon as he was old enough to understand. And to his credit, he’d never told Cleo, even after they started dating. It helped that Sita had dyed her hair green and wore sunglasses, though in the few times they’d encountered each other, Sedusa wondered if Cleo suspected.

No matter. Sedusa decided that she too had to go to Boo York, though separately. Thanks to her connections in the academic field-(she’d spend the past couple hundred years working with museums and archaelogists, translating ancient texts and other things) she was able to make a reservation in one of the rather nicer rooms at the Ptolemy Hotel, which was normally always booked. 

And she was going in business casual, something she usually reserved for work trips. Deuce thought she was being ridiculous and even paranoid, but being the good brother that he was, swore not to tell that his sister was going to Boo York as well, and if it came out, he was to simply say that it was a business trip. She’d asked nothing else of him except to message her if he found out what the de Niles were really there for. She was pretty sure he’d rolled his eyes underneath his sunglasses.

It didn’t take long. She’d passed a day or so enjoying all the museums Boo York had to offer before she got a text from Deuce. He’d told her how badly the dinner with the Ptolemys had gone for him, and how Cleo had broken up with him. He’d also mentioned Cleo getting engaged....to the Ptolemy heir, known on the streets by his stage name, Pharoah. 

She’d told Deuce she’d take care of it, and he’d told her he didn’t need her to fix his problems. “This is bigger than just you and Cleo,” she’d texted him back. “I’ll explain later. In person.” 

She’d had to wait until nightfall to track down Pharoah, and even then she had to ask several people when and where the next performance was going to be.

He was good. Hip hop and rap was his style, and he danced well. Sedusa had half a mind to dance along with the crowd, but it was better she didn’t for now. Until she explained what she had to explain, that is.

She waited until after the performance, and after he’d signed autographs and chatting with everyone else. Sedusa had even let him walk a bit before she’d silently approached him.

“Can we talk?”

“Pardon?” He jumped, having neither seen nor heard her. “I’m sorry, did you want an autograph too?”

She smiled a little. “I’d love one, but perhaps later. I need to talk to you about your engagement.”

Pharoah made a face. “I should ask how you know about that, but...well, Mother thinks it’s for the best.” He sighed. “I don’t-well, never mind. I shouldn’t speak against her wishes.”

“I need to warn you about the de Niles,” Sedusa went on. “You and your mother both. I’m staying at your hotel. Can we talk there?”

“I suppose, but I’ll have to sneak back in. Mother doesn’t know I’ve been...well, doing this.”

“I hate to alarm you, but she probably does if she pays any attention to the people at all. It was easy enough for me to find out where you’d be performing tonight.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing though, she detests modern culture and keeps to the old ways. Maybe that’s why she wants me to get married. “

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping to tradition,” she mused. “But people need to realize that times change and people do too. I hope that even though the two of you might disagree on something like that, she clings to tradition because that is what she prefers and chooses to honor, rather than clinging only to the traditions that are self serving. Too many people fall into the latter category.”

That gave him something to think about, and they were relatively silent on the walk back. Upon sneaking in successfully, she’d led him to her room, where she motioned for him to sit down and offered some water. 

“The world know me as Sedusa Gorgon,” she said. “Deuce is my brother. He’s a bit...immature at times, but he’s loyal, and keeps his word. He and Cleo have been dating,or were.”

“I didn’t know that. Do they..care for each other?” 

“It seems so. It’s hard for me to believe that Cleo is capable of caring about anyone besides herself, and you’ll see why when I tell you what I have to tell you next.” 

He looked at her quizzically. “What?”

“I’ve been Sedusa Gorgon for a long time now-since before written records were kept. But the name I was born with was Sitamun. Sitamun de Nile.”

“What...you’re a de Nile? Are you in hiding?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. More like I put aside a life I was miserable in and traded it for a better one.” She told him of what life had been like with her father and sisters-what she could remember. The selfishness, the greed, the self-serving. She also talked about the emotional abuse she’d experienced at all of their hands. “You try dealing with that for a couple thousand years.”

“I...” He shook his head, and got up to put a hand on her arm. “I don’t know what to say. Do you want to stop for a while?”

“No. I need to finish.” She shook her head, and told him how she’d escaped on the back of Amanita Nightshade all those years ago. How she’d joined her mother’s caravan and been with her ever since. When things got more modern, Sedusa had gotten a degree in anthropology and used her talent for languages to do a lot of translation work.  She’d made money and an impact on culture in her own right.

“The point of all this is-” Sedusa paused, going on again. “They will take everything from you. From you and your family. Even if you sign an ironclad prenup, they’ll weasel it out of you somehow. Deuce tells me Cleo isn’t half as bad now as I described her being all those years ago, but the fact is that she’s still selfish and always will be.She’ll always put trying to one-up Nefera over anything else. Nefera and Ramses de Nile will manipulate Cleo and everyone else, and step on anyone in their way. I don’t want anything from you or your family, and I don’t care who you marry, if you marry at all. I just don’t want you and your family to suffer as I have suffered, and I don’t want you to lose everything.  Because I can guarantee Ramses will somehow get his hands on your family’s heirlooms and sell them to the highest bidder. He earned a lot of his money in the modern age like that.”

When she’d finished her story, it was almost morning. He was silent for a moment, and then said, “We have to tell my mother.”

She nodded tiredly. After all that talking, she was physically and mentally exhausted, but she knew it had to be done. So after a bit of freshening up, she joined Seth-that’s what he told her his name was, Seth-as he met his mother for breakfast.

She’d had to introduce herself and even offered her business card. Formalities, that sort of thing. Amun Ptolemy had murmured something about hearing of her work, and Sedusa had thanked her politely.  And then she got into her story again. By the time she was done, they’d long since finished breakfast and she’d accidentally switched into speaking Coptic more than once. Amun Ptolemy, being the traditionalist that she was, could speak it very well and merely answered back in the same. 

“You might wonder,” Sedusa said when she finished, “If I want anything from you or if, after everything I’ve been through with the family of my birth, I want revenge. Ramses de Nile did disown me long ago, after all. But I don’t want anything from you other than to see you keep what you have and not be miserable. And they will make you miserable. My brother Deuce, as immature as he is sometimes,may have brought out some good in Cleo, but she is and will always be selfish and easily manipulated by her family. Your son is a good man, and regardless of who he marries, he doesn’t deserve to spend the next few thousand years miserable with them. As for the de Niles, I’ve washed my hands of them long ago. Legally I’m Sedusa Gorgon, and have been Sedusa Gorgon since before modern records were invented. I’ve renounced all ties to them and I’d like to keep it that way. Though I would not be offended if either you or your son chose to call me Sitamun or Sita. Just please do not add the ‘de Nile’ part, and for the love of Isis, don’t do it in front of....them. I’m honestly content in my life for the most part-I get to share my heritage with museums and universities all over the world, and I can be proud of my heritage without someone trying to squash what spirit I have left.” She fell silent, tiredly reaching for the remnants of a glass of water.

Amun Ptolemy was silent for a good while before she spoke.  “I could tell Ramses was fake from miles away. You don’t rule as long as we have without learning a few things.” She scoffed. “I’d just hoped that once Seth and Cleo were married, the rest of Cleo’s family would be...out of sight, out of mind.”

“A snowball has a better chance in Hell, ma’am,” Sedusa said tiredly. “And I don’t mean Hell, Michigan.”

Amun Ptolemy’s lips twitched in what might almost be a smile-almost-before she nodded and looked at her son. “And you agree with this?”

“I believe she’s sincere, Mother.”

“Very well. Escort Miss Gorgon back to her room-she’s no doubt exhausted. “i’ll think on this.”

Seth got up to do just that, and Sedusa forgot to ask Amun to leave her name out of the matter due to sheer tiredness. When she got to her room, she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She was so tired that she slept through the next day or so and through what was  supposed to be the engagement party-but turned out to be just a party instead. In the end, the engagement was broken off through mutual agreement and some shenanigans on the part of Cleo’s friends. Sedusa’s name was left out of the matter. All this was told to Sedusa over a rather nice dinner with Seth, who’d insisted on it given all the trouble she’d gone through. Sedusa, meanwhile, had just sighed with relief. Deuce, meanwhile, was back with Cleo and happy again. Sedusa still couldn’t understand what he saw in her.

[jeannereames]

In your opinion, who assimilated into foreign cultures most successfully, Alexander or Philip, and why do you think this?

Also: If Philip wasn't as successful in his expansion, do you think Alexander would have still had the potential to go as far as he did?

(From @aphrodite-bleeding-water it kept linking my main so I had to ask on anon.)

Part of the difficulty with assessing Philip is that the “foreign cultures” he interacted with mostly weren’t that foreign. Macedonians and Thracians, while two different peoples ethnically, shared a great deal culturally, and had been in contact for centuries. The Illyrians, if less like Macedonia or Thrace, would have been familiar to him via his mother, Eurydike, whose father was almost certainly Illyrian, or at least half Illyrian. Paionians were even more familiar. The Greeks were probably ethnically the same, but culturally different—and we know how much the Macedonians assimilated to Greek culture. Attik Greek was even the official court language. (Doric Greek, or a version of it, appears to be what the locals spoke at home.)

Philip did have some experience with Persians via both ambassadors as well as Artabazos and his family living at the court. Yet Artabazos had married an Eastern Greek himself, and he was the fish out of water in Macedonia, so he would have done the assimilating.

Ergo, Philip wasn’t exposed to truly different cultures in a context that would have required him to adapt to them.

Alexander was, and after Gaugamela, or really, after he left Persepolis, closing the “Revenge” leg of his campaign, he began to consider modifying the court with Persian customs. He put the first phase of that into practice in Hyrcania, northeast of Ekbatana, on the southeastern edge of the Caspian Sea, before marching into Baktria after Bessos. How much of this was love of Persian culture and how much pragmatism is hard to say. Certainly it was presented in the sources as “Orientalizing” (horrors!). Honestly, I suspect it was a bit of both.

Maria Brosius has an excellent chapter in Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great that discusses Alexander and the Persians. She explains how his attempts to modify the court were largely surface. They weren’t surface because he meant them to be, they were surface in the way appropriation is often surface—by failing to grasp the significance of whatever one is borrowing. The Greeks did that in general. To be fair, the Persians did the same in reverse. The ancient world was generally ethnocentric. But Alexander’s failure to understand how the court really worked torpedoed his attempts. Then again, he may have understood and not wanted to exactly recreate how the court worked—trying to force them into change the same as he was trying to force his Macedonians into change.

Neither side welcomed the finagling, nor respected it, and Alexander didn’t live long enough to see it through.

I can’t say if Philip would have done better or even worse. The Hellenistic rulers who followed Alexander, including the older ones of Philip’s generation such as Antigonos Monophthalmos, mostly didn’t get it even as much as Alexander had. The exception is probably Seleukos, and Peukestes. One could also argue Ptolemy, but he went to Egypt, and rule there was imposed. Scholarship seems quite divided on how much Ptolemaic rule was harsh and colonial and how much Egyptians assimilated their Greek occupiers. I think much depends on what one would consider “assimilated.”

Anyway, as noted above, Alexander just didn’t live long enough. Could he have succeeded better if he’d lived longer? I don’t mean a few months, I mean at least a few years, and preferably at least another decade. Really successful carvers-out of long-standing empires—Darius I (30 yrs) and Augustus (40+ years, depending on where you count his start)—often manage because they had a long reign. Even Philip had c. 23 years. Alexander’s was barely 13, and he spent most of it gallivanting around Persia. In Philip’s early days, he’d forced integration between Upper and Lower Macedonia. Even after 23 years, that wasn’t seamless and those groups were much closer. If Alexander had had his father’s 23 years, who knows?

As for the second part of the question, simple answer: no.

Years ago, I wrote a short story for Gene Borza’s birthday, part a collection Kathleen was putting together. It was an alternate history in which Philip died at Chaironeia and everything went to hell. Alexander had to put it all back together and as for Persia, at the end he thinks, “Maybe my sons will see you someday.” Gene was a Philip fan.

Philip absolutely laid the groundwork for Alexander. That’s not to detract from what ATG did, but his father handed him a kick-ass army and a (mostly) subdued country. Alexander faced rebellions when Philip died, but he was able to put them back under control in just two years and leave for Persia because of Philip’s accomplishments.

Someday maybe I’ll be able to do something with that short story.

[pengiesama]

The Real Library of Alexandria Was the Friends We Made Along the Way (Fic, TOZ/TOB, school AU)

Title: The Real Library of Alexandria Was the Friends We Made Along the Way Series: Tales of Zestiria / Tales of Berseria Pairing: Gen Characters: Laphicet, Mikleo, Sorey, Velvet

Summary: Phi crusades against two Bigger Kids making noise in the library. He winds up discovering some common ground, and becomes leader of the nerdiest gang this side of the hemisphere.

Link: AO3

This was written for After School Heroes ( @ashtaleszine ); a Tales Of zine focusing on school AUs!

The zine's purchase period is now over, but you can check out some of the other fic and art from the zine in the links below.

ASH's Tumblr: http://ashtaleszine.tumblr.com/ ASH's Twitter: https://twitter.com/ashtaleszine/

Read on Tumblr!

“…I’m not saying that you’re wrong. I’m just saying that you’re vastly misinformed.”

“So, really, you’re saying I’m wrong.”

“No, I’m saying that you’re misinformed, and that your flair for the dramatic has led you to an incorrect interpretation of our sources…”

Phi did not mind listening to debates on topics that interested him. And this one did -- he’d always liked Ancient History and was happy to hear someone discussing it with such knowledge and passion. His own class at school was currently covering the period, but...well. When all they were expected to do was to be able to name city-states and list off a handful of gods, trying to engage his classmates in discussions was an exercise in futility. Even his teacher wasn’t much better. Such was the struggle of being ten years old and maybe a bit too well-read.

No, no, the topic wasn’t the issue, nor was the debate. There was just a time and place for this kind of thing, and the public library after school fit neither of those items. There also was a need for one’s indoor voice. Phi peeped over the top of his book, scowling. His baleful stare, full of judgement and righteous fury, went entirely unnoticed. This wasn’t really that surprising, as Phi was halfway across the reading room and half-buried under a pile of heavy books at his table. He thought of clearing his throat in an accusatory tone, but the idea of making a peep in the library was anathema to the very core of his being. Sure, this section of the library was deserted except for Phi and the debaters, but...but it was the principle of the thing, and that principle was what set man apart from beast.

The two intrepid historians were wearing uniforms from a high school across town. Their status as Bigger Kids gave Phi some pause in confronting them. But with the library’s honor to defend, could he ever forgive himself if he let cowardice win? Phi thought briefly about how his babysitter Velvet might handle the issue, then paled, and stopped thinking about it, because it was kind of scary.

“—Sorey, your arguments show a level of understanding that I’d expect from someone whose historical knowledge came from half-remembered edutainment cartoons from ten years ago, not from someone who I thought knew better,” said the white-haired boy wearily.

“Look, Mikleo, I know that attributing the destruction of the Library of Alexandria to a single catastrophic event ignores other things that led to its decline—”

“And leads to more public disinformation about a section of history that’s already rife with it.”

“—but,” said the brown-haired boy (the other boy, Mikleo, had called him Sorey), pressing on. “Even if there were other events which led to its eventual decline, dissolution, destruction, etcetera, what I’m saying is that the most important and impactful of these incidents was it being set ablaze in the Siege. Aurelian’s attack on the city and the destruction of the Serapeum are drops in the bucket in comparison, when the bulk of the collection was already lost at that point!”

“But they were still important events in its final decline, no matter what your little fanfic daydreams of travelling back in time with a magic firetruck to play hero! And all this assumes that the Library even was damaged in the Siege, considering that accounts of the time are contradictory.”

“Ancient accounts from any ancient historian worth their salt all agree that the library was damaged by Caesar’s short-sighted shenanigans! And it’s not a magic firetruck. It’s—”

“Yes, yes, it’s powered by advanced technology made possible by a time loop that hinges on the hero saving the Library from being burned. You act as though I don’t pay attention when I edit your work. But if you really want to be taken seriously, you have to address the other aspects of its decline that can’t be solved by a firetruck falling from the sky.”

Sorey squinted at the ceiling in thought. “...the firetruck could fall from the sky onto Aurelian.”

“Then you’re getting into further divergent history when a Roman Emperor gets killed like a wicked witch from the Land of Oz. And there’s still the Serapeum to consider.”

“The firetruck could fall on Theophilus too.”

Mikleo appeared to be dumbstruck by this statement for a brief moment, then nearly flipped the table in rage.

“You can’t solve every tragic historical event by dropping firetrucks on it!” he all but shrieked.

“It’s called poetic irony!” Sorey shouted back. “And it’s art!”

Phi agreed with both boys on their more intellectual points, and neither of them on their thoughts about art and literature. More importantly, he also agreed with them on the importance of preserving cultural institutions, which meant that he was duty-bound to intervene in this fight before they destroyed this library too. Luckily, he knew the Dewey Decimal System like the back of his hand, and quickly collected a volume of text that might be able to smother the flames of this debate before they spiraled out of control.

Phi marched over to the older boys’ table, and – taking a page out of Velvet’s book on confrontations – slammed the volume down as hard as he could onto the wooden surface. But, as he was still a polite boy, he was sure to scream “excuse me” while he did so.

The two older boys stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, as the bang and scream reverbed off the library’s walls. Taking the opportunity for their undivided attention, Phi opened the book he’d brought over to the appropriate page and tapped a heading.

“Ptolemy VIII’s mass purges of Alexandrian intellectuals who opposed his seizure of the Egyptian throne, and the accompanying political turmoil in the Ptolemaic dynasty at the time, weakened the Library considerably,” Phi began, confidently. “This sent the Library into decline, well before Caesar’s invasion over a century later.”

The shock and confusion melted away from Sorey’s face. He reflected quietly on Phi’s thesis and gave an embarrassed little smile.

“...I guess I really did kind of get hung up on the dramatic events, huh?” he said sheepishly. “Man, with all the craziness going on during that period, it’s kind of a surprise the Library didn’t get set on fire sooner…”

“I don’t think there are enough time-travelling firetrucks in the world to drop on all the troublemakers back then,” Mikleo agreed. “But I’m guilty too, of only looking post-Siege, and at the Roman side of things.”

“And you’re both guilty of yelling in the library,” Phi added. “I could hear you all the way over there.

He pointed accusingly towards his table, which was still piled high with books. The two boys looked abashed.

“I’m so sorry,” Mikleo said. “We...we didn’t see you over there.”

Admittedly, from this table, it was quite hard to see where he’d been sitting, buried behind the books. Sorey, for his part, was already on his way over to Phi’s table. He looked over some of the volumes, interest clear on his face.

“Wow...no wonder you schooled us on this. I’ve been meaning to read some of these!”

“Well, don’t start with that one,” Phi said, gesturing to the volume in Sorey’s hand. “You’re not going to understand it without some background knowledge...”

When the time came for Phi to leave, he had lectured both boys quite thoroughly on history – and what’s more, he had quite completely forgiven them for their sins. Despite their...eccentricities, Sorey and Mikleo were very knowledgeable on ancient topics from around the world, and treated Phi as their equal -- not just some novelty to be humored and “corrected” on topics he knew like the back of his hand. They promised to be here again tomorrow, to talk more, and...and Sorey had talked about making an Ancient History Club, for the three of them, and that would just be too cool…

“It sounds like you had fun,” Velvet observed, after Phi had breathlessly explained to her all the above. “Give me your hand until we’re done crossing the street.”

Idly, Velvet wondered whether she should go through the trouble of inspecting these two new friends of Phi’s – and by “inspecting”, she meant putting the fear of god into them, and by the fear of god, she meant the fear of her.

Phi dutifully grabbed Velvet’s good hand and continued. “We’ll have official meetings once a week and unofficial get-togethers on the other days of the week, except Tuesdays, when Sorey has Track club and Mikleo goes to Home Ec club, but that day I think I can go to the library anyway and just plan our activities for the rest of the week…”

…but, honestly, they seemed like they were a perfect fit for Phi already. Velvet walked with him, hand in hand, and decided to hold off. At least for now.