Hatshepsut

“I have commanded that my rule abide like the mountains” attributed to Pharaoh Hatshepsut

In the dusty sands and the daunting splendour of Ancient Egypt, a woman once stood at the pinnacle of power—an audacious ruler in a world where the throne was the province of men. Pharaoh Hatshepsut, the fifth ruler of Egypt’s Eighteenth Dynasty, carved out an extraordinary reign between 1479 BC and 1458 BC that transcended the norms of her time. Hers was a reign of daring ambition, monumental architecture, and an unwavering determination to cement her place in history. As a female pharaoh, Hatshepsut's legacy invites a deeper exploration not only of her impact on the Ancient Egyptian story but also of the role women played in a society that often relegated them to the background. Was Ancient Egypt, in its acceptance of women in power, more progressive than the modern West? Were there special circumstances surrounding Hatshepsut's rise that made it uniquely possible for a woman to ascend to power? Can we look back on Hatshepsut’s reign and draw lessons about the intersection of gender, leadership, and societal expectations that still resonate today?

An unlikely ruler

Hatshepsut’s rise to the throne was nothing short of remarkable. Born to Thutmose I and Queen Ahmose, she was a royal daughter raised in a world that offered her no direct path to power. After the sudden death of her father, she married her half-brother, Thutmose II, securing her place in the royal court. But when he passed away unexpectedly, Egypt’s throne fell to their infant son, Thutmose III. A regency followed, with Hatshepsut as the child's guardian. But she was no mere supporting character. Instead of stepping aside for the boy king, Hatshepsut stepped up—and then some.

In Ancient Egypt, female rule was not completely without precedent but it was certainly a deviation from the norm. On the occasions where a woman was called upon to govern, it was often as a regent or a co-ruler. Hatshepsut defied these expectations. She didn't merely govern on behalf of her young stepson—she declared herself pharaoh. With an iron will and a practiced hand for both religion and politics, Hatshepsut took on the full regalia of the king, including the ceremonial beard, the masculine kilt, and the sacred uraeus, a symbol of kingship. In the art that depicted her reign, she was shown not as a woman, but as a man. She was a priestess who became a Queen-consort, a Queen who became a King. The commanding ruler of Egypt at a time when Egypt had recovered from the decline of invasion and subjugation to once again assert it's power and dominance on the world stage. Hatshepsut makes for a fascinating study. Yes, she was a woman cloaked in male imagery - a deception or a calculated maneuver to claim her sovereignty in a society where power was inherently male. But Hatshepsut is not remarkable simply because she was a woman who held immense power in the ancient world. Hatshepsut's reign stands out as equal to that of any great pharaoh of Egypt - woman or man.

Hatshepsut's reign, though unexpected, was marked by success and grandeur. She delivered peace and stability to Egypt, opened trade routes that enriched the economy, and commissioned monumental building projects that still stand today. Yet, despite her achievements, her rule was always viewed through the lens of her gender, and her legacy was tempered by the struggle she faced in asserting herself over the levers of state as a female in a male-dominated society.

The 18th Dynasty: A new balance of power

Hatshepsut rose to prominence during Egypt's decorated 18th dynasty, a time when the balance of power was changing in Egyptian society. Throughout its remarkable 3,000 year history, Ancient Egypt remained a heavily centralised state by modern standards, with the Pharaoh - a god in human form - at the pinnacle of power. This was true in Hatshepsut's time. But during the 18th Dynasty, other levers of state, such as the priesthood and the military classes, found new power and influence. This gave rise to new political operators close to - though by no means equal to - the power of the throne, which the ruling pharaoh would have to interact with. Powerful men with reach and influence over society outside the walls of the palace who pharoah must learn to placate and cajole from time to time. The 18th dynasty was also a time where the role of women was evolving. There was no word for 'queen' in Ancient Egypt. Women were always defined by their relationship to the pharaoh. A Great Royal Wife would be the ruler's principle consort; and the most prominent woman in the kingdom. But in the 18th dynasty, we see these women begin to step out from behind their husbands. Statues and reliefs begin to reveal royal women exercising power, particularly from within the priesthood.

This separation of powers, however modest, gave Hatshepsut both the platform from which she was able to rise to power and the practical experience of how power ebbed and flowed through the upper echelons of Egyptian society - knowledge and insight she would later deploy as pharaoh. Hatshepsut was appointed God's Wife of Amun - the highest ranking position a woman could hold within the priesthood - when she was very young during the rule of her father Thutmose I. Possibly as young as ten, she now held a position of significant prestige and influence at court. She was well placed for the events that followed as she made the step from the priesthood to queen-consort, later regent to King. Curiously, when she later sat the throne herself, she appointed her daughter, Neferure, as God's Wife of Amun. Envisaging by then as she may have done, that no male heir was forthcoming, perhaps Hatshepsut was setting Neferure up to embark on her own rise.

Upon the death of Thutmose I, his son, also called Thutmose, was identified as successor. But there was a problem. This new Thutmose was young; and by accounts a sickly child. In Ancient Egypt, stability was key. The boy King needed a co-ruler and the stage was set for Hatshepsut to assume the role. She did this by marrying her father's heir - her own half-brother. Brother-sister marriages were common in Egypt's ruling classes, as was a woman ruling on behalf of an infant pharoah. What was less common was for that woman to rule as regent for a child that was not hers. That Thutmose II was in fact the child of a woman that Hatshepsut outranked, gave Hatshepsut another opportunity to assert herself as ruler. She married her half-brother to become his regent, but within a few short years, she sat the throne herself as pharaoh, the uncontested ruler of Egypt. We can speculate that her knowledge of how power was structured within the Egyptian state coupled with her seniority within the Great House (or Royal Family) acted as a kind of perfect storm, propelling an ambitious and capable woman to the pinnacle of power.

Wealth and Glory

Hatshepsut's reign was a time of extraordinary prosperity, an era of peace where the fruits of diplomacy and commerce flourished. Among her most celebrated achievements was the famous trade expedition to the land of Punt, a distant region teeming with gold, incense, and exotic goods, thought to be where modern north-east Sudan, Eritrea and Somalia today exist. This venture was not guaranteed to succeed. Egyptian relations with Punt had been marked by conflict in times passed. But the mission brought immense wealth to Egypt and reinforced Hatshepsut's image as a ruler capable of not just militaristic dominance, but also the delicate art of diplomacy and economic strategy. The treasures from Punt—mysterious and abundant—demonstrated Hatshepsut’s daring in pursuit of a legacy and symbolised her ability to both preserve Egypt’s legacy and advance its future. Not content to be a mere placeholder or even to be seen as a safe pair of hands, Hatshepsut’s accomplishments and the way she presented herself and her rule made it clear that she was determined to be considered a great ruler, woman or no.

Hatshepsut leaves us in no doubt about this when we consider her monumental architectural legacy. Her mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahari, carved into the cliffs of the West Bank near Luxor, remains one of the most breathtaking structures of Ancient Egypt. Its beauty lies not just in its scale, but in its harmony with the surrounding desert landscape, where craft and nature intertwine. The temple, an enduring symbol of her reign, was designed to honor the gods and celebrate her divine right to rule. Here, in the silence of the desert, Hatshepsut ensured that her name would be immortalized—an audacious statement in an age where the written word and the carved image were the only forms of eternal remembrance.

Hatshepsut and the Question of Gender

Although women in Ancient Egypt could hold positions of influence—especially within the royal family or the priesthood—most were confined to the domestic sphere. Women were expected to marry, bear children, and manage households. However, royal women, as mothers of kings or high-ranking queens, wielded considerable influence behind closed doors. Still, even in the more emboldened surroundings of an 18th dynasty court, a woman’s path to true power was fraught with obstacles. The queen consort could command attention, but the throne was almost always reserved for men. The political landscape, though not completely exclusionary, was deeply shaped by patriarchal assumptions.

Female rule in Ancient Egypt was rare, but not new in the time of Hatshepsut. There had been early trail blazers like Queen Merneith in the 1st dynasty - who ruled as regent for her infant son before he became Pharaoh Den in 2950 BC. Other queen regents followed. Pharaonic power in Egypt centred around male rule - but also very heavily on the sexual prowess of the Pharaoh himself. In early dynasties, when Egypt was new, power rested unreadily on a child king - someone who would have to be given time before an assessment could be made as to his ability to produce heirs. In these situations, who better than the child’s own mother - usually a Great Royal Wife of the dead Pharaoh - to govern in her son’s interest.

Later, in the 12th dynasty, after the death of her father Amenemhat III, Queen Neferusobek took power as ruler in absence of any nephews or brothers. Reigning for just over three years in the twilight of her life, Neferusobek was to be the last ruler of her dynasty. As the historian Kara Cooney observes, there were terms under which patriarchal Egyptian society could suspend its disbelief. Such was their faith in the divine power of their god-kings, that Egyptian ruling elites were quite happy to let a woman take the reigns - particularly at the end of a bloodline, with no male heirs apparent. There are reasons of realpolitik at play here. The prospect of an older, dowager queen like Neferusobek buys time. Such a reign could create the necessary circumstances for a new ruler to be chosen peaceably. In Ancient Egypt - a state with few external challengers - political threats and instability from within were the biggest obstacle to overcome in a power vacuum. It is easy to see how the rule of an older woman would be preferable at these key junctures.

Hatshepsut is not special because she is the first woman in Ancient Egypt to hold power. She is special because she is the first woman, that we know of, to take it on her own terms. Hatshepsut was not a regent, ruling on behalf of her infant son. She was not a dowager queen, ruling as the widow of a fallen royal husband. The circumstances of her rise bore similarities to other female rulers that had gone before, but none before Hatshepsut had gone on to rule as Pharaoh, as King.

While Hatshepsut’s reign did begin as a regency, even here she was unique in that she was ruling as regent on behalf of a child that was not her own, but her step-son. She would have faced suspicion and scrutiny, ruling as she was, on behalf of another woman’s child.

It is also true that Hatshepsut’s reign came about because of the death of a male ruler. But here we can see that Hatshepsut is unique because she went on to be declared ‘King’ in her own right, not simply regent, even despite the availability of male alternatives.

Yet, notwithstanding her achievements, the question of gender haunted Hatshepsut throughout her reign. Her decision to present herself as a male ruler in iconography could be viewed as an act of defiance against the rigid gender norms of her society. Another interpretation would be that Hatshepsut chose to cover herself in male symbolism like a suit of armour. That, rather than present herself as the woman she was, she felt safer portraying herself as a man - an equal of the great pharaohs who went before her. We cannot know what was in Hatshepsut’s mind 3,500 years ago. But a countervailing view of her iconographic style is that Hatshepsut knew the art of the compromise. We see in her successful trade mission to Punt, a ruler unafraid of risk but clearly able to operate as a skilled diplomat. Militarily, she was a consolidator. On the world stage, she would sooner make a profit rather than wage war. Domestically, she knew how to grapple with ambitious and competing courtiers and clerics. Hatshepsut then, was an ancient centrist.

Of course, it is facetious in the extreme to apply contemporary left/right political thinking to Ancient Egypt. But if we take the view that Hatshepsut was a calculated political operator who favoured consensus building, we can look at her statues and paintings differently. She wasn’t seeking to defy gender norms, nor was she trying to hide from her identity. She was giving her people what they wanted. The symbols of divine pharaonic power may have been male symbols, but they were what they were to Hatshepsut and more importantly than anything else, they were what was expected of her. She was, as Cooney surmises, the Queen of public relations.

Was Ancient Egypt more progressive than the West is today?

In comparing Ancient Egypt to modern Western liberal democracies, it’s tempting to ask: was Ancient Egypt more progressive when it came to female leadership? On the surface, the answer seems clear— even as an early civilisation, Ancient Egypt allowed for women to rule, women of a certain standing could inherit and bequeath property and science and medicine developed in a much more holistic way than in some later western cultures. The practice of midwifery and the development of contraceptive theories, for example, could be analysed through a gender-progressive lens. But a deeper look reveals a more complex picture about the role of women in Egyptian life.

In modern Western democracies, the struggle for female leadership has been long and hard-fought. Women have had to fight for the right to vote, to hold office and to have their voices heard in the corridors of power. Figures like Queen Elizabeth II, Margaret Thatcher, and Angela Merkel stand as testament to the gradual but undeniable rise of women in western politics and governance. Yet, despite these advances, women are still underrepresented in political office in many parts of the world, and the gendered biases that shape public perception of female leaders still persist. The United States, the foremost western liberal democracy, is yet to elect a woman president. Even in countries like Britain, there are limits and nuances to female political power. Despite the emergence of three female prime ministers all from the political right, it remains vexingly difficult to envisage a woman leading a UK government from the progressive left.

Ancient Egypt did allow for women to ascend to the throne and rule as pharaohs. But such women were often exceptional cases, individuals who broke through the rigid structures of their society. Hatshepsut’s reign was not a reflection of widespread gender equality in Egypt, but rather a temporary anomaly born of opportune circumstances, seized upon by an exceptionally gifted woman. The greater societal norm was still one of male dominance, even as powerful women occasionally defied the odds.

Hatshepsut did defy the odds, in spectacular fashion. From trade, to diplomacy. From her political manoeuvres to her legacy building. Hatshepsut’s reign was a personal triumph and a relative golden age for Egypt.

It is tempting for those of us who look for lessons in history to glimpse ideas that we feel are missing from our own society amid the ruins of empires. Ancient Egypt’s apparent easy disposition towards female rule is alluring, especially in the context of current western recalcitrance. But before we ascribe progressive values to the past, it is worth considering the immediate reaction of Ancient Egyptian society and its leaders after Hatshepsut’s rule came to an end.

Hatshepsut died in 1458 BC. She is thought to have been between the ages of 37 and 47.

Her successor, Pharaoh Thutmose had spent years in his stepmother’s shadow. During his early reign, Hatshepsut’s memory was treated with the usual reverence as was befitting a departed king. But towards the end of his reign and into the reigns of his successors, Hatshepsut’s rule came under attack. Her statues were defaced or altered. Her name was struck from carvings. Her works and achievements started to be plagiarised and associated with other pharaohs.

In the decisions of her successors we witness a pushback against female rule which goes beyond just Hatshepsut herself. For a time, Pharaohs opted to pass on appointing prominent royal women to key positions within the priesthood, sometimes preferring to appoint their own mothers as God’s Wife of Amun - a position we know was held by Hatshepsut during her early rise to prominence - presumably out of a reluctance to facilitate the rise of other ambitious young women.

In the decades after Hatshepsut’s rule it is as though the polity of Ancient Egypt was convulsing in an allergic reaction to female rule. We see this throughout history of course. There are many parallels in western society following the fall of a powerful woman, whether they have reached the pinnacle of power like a Thatcher or a Merkel; or whether they have come close, like a Clinton or a Harris.

But it is the success of Hatshepsut’s reign, the untrammelled wealth and glory of Egypt at the time, that makes this adverse reaction to her rule so interesting - and which must give us the greatest pause before we declare Ancient Egypt a feminist utopia. Here was an advanced society without rival or equal, without threats domestic or foreign; and with an abundance of wealth and resources. Yet even in good times, the need to react against, to erase and to repaint female rule was keenly felt.

One for the ages

Hatshepsut’s reign offers a fascinating glimpse into an ancient world which challenges the idea of continued linear progress. Where women could rule as sovereigns, even if their power was tempered by the gendered expectations of their time. She stands out in the pages of history as a great ruler first. One who embodied both the wisdom and the audacity to be a great leader of a powerful nation. The fact she ruled as a woman, albeit one who clearly felt the need to make concessions to patriarchal expectations of pharaonic kingship, makes her all the more fascinating. If she felt more pressure to build a legacy in her own time as a result of her gender, we can say that she rose to that pressure and reigned with style and aplomb worthy of a place in any conversation about Egypt’s greatest Pharaohs. The reaction to and against her rule proved that she was right to worry. Yet her achievements made it impossible for her successors to truly erase her from the history books.

In the end, Hatshepsut's legacy stands not only as a symbol of female power in the ancient world but also as a reminder of the sad truism that a woman must work twice as hard to be considered half as good as a man - even in death. Her reign, a fleeting but dazzling moment of female authority, challenges us to rethink the history of gender and leadership—not just in the ancient world, but in our own. While modern Western democracies have made significant strides toward gender equality, the ancient world shows us that the path to true equality, especially in leadership, has always been a difficult, non-linear and often painful one.

Hatshepsut's story is timeless. Her colossal statues stare down from the pillars of her mortuary temple near Luxor, her face looks serene and undaunted by the passage of time. An accomplished ruler, inviting your judgment without any fear of it. Countless generations have gazed upon that face in awe. Countless generations to come will pass underneath her gaze, haunted by the vastness of eternity. For those of us who aspire to a more equal future, she reminds us that while history rarely repeats, it often rhymes.

With thanks and appreciation to Kara Cooney, author of When Women Ruled the World; Joyce Tyldesley, author of Hatchepsut: The Female Pharaoh; The Rest is History, The King's Monologue and many, many others.