Gender Archaeology in a Mortuary Context
by Anca Szilagyi

Introduction

The goal of gender archaeology is to study men and women (and all the grays in between) in past societies. At first glance, this is a rather vague goal; indeed, one might rephrase that goal as to study people in the past. Past approaches to archaeology, however, have tended to focus on men and valorize activities assumed to be only male-oriented. With the advent of feminism in the 1970s, archaeology slowly (albeit almost a decade later) joined other academic fields in addressing this issue and reconfiguring research questions to include those of gender. Gender archaeology was spurred by feminist archaeology but it need not have a political agenda. Indeed, perhaps it should not. It simply must concern itself with questions of gender: relations, roles, representation, identity, ideology, and the like. In short, any aspect of life in past societies may be examined through the prism of gender.

Burial analysis is a fruitful source of data for the study of gender in past societies. However, when it is done properly, it is fraught with a myriad of assumptions to be aware of, considerations to uphold, and nuances to maintain with an almost surgical delicacy. The first part of this paper will provide a cursory glance at various theoretical approaches to gender archaeology and burial analysis; subsequent sections will examine specific studies, accessing various approaches, topics, and localities in an effort to show a selection of the work that has been done.

As Ian Hodder argues, patterns found in burial systems are complementary to, but not mirror images of life (1983:139). They are an ideal, not an actuality, and attitudes toward death may differ from conceptions of the living, practical world (Hodder 1983: 142, 145). "In death, people often become what they have not been in life," concludes Hodder (146). That said, a tremendous amount of data on past societies can be extracted from burial analysis; it is of the utmost importance to keep in mind how burials are not passive reflections of the living world of the past, and how the living can change the representation of the dead to fit a certain image, a certain cultural milieu. Mortuary practices can heighten or erase idiosyncrasies; there are protocols that are established and then broken. It is the task of the archaeologist to seek out patterns and examine them, as well as to study breaches in the patterns.

Gender archaeology has benefited tremendously from mortuary analysis. Relatively new to the field of archaeology, gender archaeology has had a difficult time establishing any one theoretical or methodological approach. In part, this has to do with the slippery terminology. Debate over whether gender encompasses biological sex, or whether it is entirely constructed by culture, problematizes systematic study. Indeed, even the term "theory" is seen as problematic by some, arguing its misuse as a term for sets of ideas rather than a unified conceptual framework (Hill 1998:101). In this case, the major concern is over just what "feminist theory" is and how it pertains to prehistoric archaeology.

Several theoretical frameworks have approached gender in archaeology, to varying degrees of success. Processual archaeology attempts to recognize artifact patterns characteristic of males and females in order to define activity areas and zones of spatial control (Gilchrist 1991:51). This approach is rife with problems. Firstly, it relies on assumptions as to who made the artifacts (ethnographically, or in the grave with sexed skeletons). As Conkey and Spector have argued in their landmark article, it maintains a "false notion of objectivity," claiming a neutral, scientific approach blind to biases and assumptions (1984: 15). Agency in processual or systems archaeology is absent; actors are "somehow invisible, if not irrelevant and subservient" to their system (Conkey and Spector 1984: 31). Finally, material culture plays a passive role; the burial treatments are simplistically seen as reflections of status, devoid of the nuances of human agency and ideology. Gender roles are ultimately invisible to this system, and it is therefore not surprising that little to no studies have been conducted examining gender from a processual viewpoint. Erica Hill, reluctant to dismiss any framework on the basis of its biased interpretation, suggests processual or systems archaeology may actually have the potential to contribute to gender study if gender is reconceptualized on the macro-scale, in terms of social reproduction and economic organization (1998:105).

Structuralism is an approach that is and has been somewhat more receptive to gender. It shows greater attention to the symbols of material culture and spatial patterning, and is therefore less narrow than processual archaeology. It examines men and women as socially constructed binary oppositions, rather than maintaining a view of strict biological determinism. Though recognizing the social construction of gender, the pitfalls of structuralism are that it suggests a universal contradiction between male and female cultural categories (Gilchrist 1991:51). It therefore does not allow for the grays between male and female such as trannsexualism, transvestitism, two-spirit people or multiple genders, all well-documented social phenomena.

Postprocessual archaeology, in direct reaction to the deterministic processual approach, opens archaeology up to variables such as ideology, agency, power and gender. As such, there is a dizzying array of possibilities. For some, gender, like other variables, is not a material correlate or social signification, but a launch pad for investigation (Gilchrist 1991:52). Approaching individuals in an attempt to reinstate human intention and emotion is one goal of the postprocessual (Meskell 1998). Though this approach opens the door for gender archaeology, it does not automatically motivate archaeologists to explore gender (Nelson 1997: 51). The focus on the visibility of women in the archaeological record often pays little attention to the development of conceptual frameworks for understanding gender in past societies (Gilchrist 1991:52). As Hill has noted seven years after Gilchrist, the field is generally lacking in a hearty conceptual framework.

The danger of "presentist" influences, feeding today's assumptions of gender into interpretations of the past also lurks about; this applies to other theories as well, as any practitioner will have their own present-day biases. The search for the embodied and emotive experience in archaeology is risky in that it treads a thin line between enquiry and empathy; empathetic approaches are likely to return impositions of unacknowledged preconceptions (Parker Pearson 1999: 104). Meskell's individual approach, discussed in more depth later, treads that line. Perhaps most significantly, though it addresses gender relations, its primary concern is accessing the individual, requiring substantial historical context. This therefore leaves the problem of gender in prehistory dangling.

Appropriately, the most significant contributor to gender archaeology has been a feminist approach. Feminist-inspired archaeology calls for an explicit theory of gender to fight interpretations, which accepted gender stereotypes as timeless, objective and "natural" (Conkey and Spector 1984; Gilchrist 1991:51). Conkey and Spector's (1984) task-differentiation framework proposed to quantify the artifact-related activities of men and women. This is the only methodology specifically geared toward gender that has been developed in twenty years; it relies heavily on ethnographic and ethnohistorical information which, though helpful avenues, have been shown to be problematic for a myriad of reasons, mainly the bias of interpretation, the willingness of sources to convey what they deem the truth, and establishing a change in division of labor since European contact is often difficult, if at all possible. The task-differentiation framework seems more applicable to activities of day-to-day life rather than mortuary practices. Furthermore, Spector herself later rejected it, because of the biases inherent in documentary sources (1991, cited in Hill 1998:103).

Another element of feminist archaeology is its attachment to a political agenda. Alison Wylie has argued that "politically engaged science is often more rigorous, self-critical, and responsive to the facts than allegedly neutral science, for which nothing is at stake" (1992: 79). Perhaps one should add that politically aware, responsible science, and not propagandistic science is what Wylie is discussing. As can be seen from the Gimbutas debacle, taking an idea and running with it for the sake of argument damages the integrity of feminist archaeology, and gender archaeology in general. Political engagement, though triggering heightened critical awareness, often garners suspicion and/or resistance from the establishment. In light of the heated processual/ postprocessual debate, theoretical archaeology is already at risk for a backlash that would render the establishment less receptive to a feminist approach (Knapp 1988). Furthermore, the "propagandistic" use of archaeology diminishes the limited resources of the archaeological record in order to achieve potentially short-term political gain (Watson 1991, cited in Hill 1998; Hill 1998:112).

The problem with all of these theoretical approaches is how is one to identify gender constructions in prehistory, moments in time far removed from ethnographic accounts or ethnohistories? They all rely on biased data and biased interpretation in ethnohistories and ethnography that may not be applicable for the oldest societies. The over-reliance on analogy and its uniformitarian conception undercuts visions of dynamic culture and change through time (Hill 1998). Lesick (1997) suggests taking into account the methodological limitations and developing an "archaeology of gender" rather than a "sociology" or "anthropology of prehistory." Archaeology must be redefined as the study of the interaction between humanity and material forms, rather than the study of humanity. Gender archaeology, Lesick argues, must center on the elucidation and analysis of patterned sets of material culture traits, which work to structure cultural experience and create social (gender) ordering.

Add to this the common sense of the multivariate approach, an excellent way to address questions of gender via multiple lines of evidence, and gender archaeology may well be on its way to blossoming into an orderly framework. Hill suggests (most reasonably) that, "the proper role of analogy and ethnohistoric sources in prehistoric archaeological research on gender should be the generation of hypotheses, which are then tested independently" (1998: 109). She puts forth the idea that perhaps a new framework is not necessary for the study of gender, but making the existing frameworks work for gender is. A pluralism in methodology and theory may be beneficial, in fact, in order to utilize the potential of all avenues of research.

The analysis of gender through a mortuary context can be done on the macro and micro scale. As Hill argues, both scales are necessary to obtain a full picture. The micro level, or the individual approach, must be linked back social context; no one lives in a vacuum, gender is embedded in culture and society. Several approaches to gender in various localities will be examined in this paper: larger scale cemetery analysis through the dimension of age and gender; the "intimate" or individual approach to historic archaeology and a prehistoric (indirect) response; gender mutability and the role of the two-spirit undertaker; and gender hierarchy and elite burials.

Age and Gender

The variable of age problematizes dichotomous gender roles, and is a major element in the discussion of gender. Because gender is often seen as constructed, how it is created throughout the life may change its expression or manifestation, as well as how interactions are executed. Many cross-cultural studies report postmenopausal women acquire a greater prestige and/or special status that allow them to participate in political or religious activities that exclude younger women (Sullivan 2001). Perhaps there are at least three gender classes related to the biological lifecycle: childhood, adulthood, and old age, where only adulthood is definitely divided into male and female, whereas childhood and old age may or may not (Lesick 1997). Whether an individual is married and has children may also affect views on gender and gender relations, additional statuses that change through life. As will be seen in the discussion of gender mutability, even this breakdown is too cursory, as there is the "intersexed" category recognized by the medical community as neither male nor female. For the time being, however, the dimension of age in gender will be explored.

Derevenski seeks to combat the "static dualist vision of gender" by examining age, seeing gender as learned process, rather than directly and dependently linked to biological sex (1997:877). She examines the cemetery at Tiszapolgar-Basatanya, Hungary, in two periods between 4500 and 3600 BC. Derevenski hypothesizes that gender should be identified by continuous rather than discrete variables; sex should be identified by discrete rather than continuous variables on the basis of presence and absence.

There is a "clear bimodal distribution of sideness in burial," leading to the conclusion that, based on anthropological sexing, males are buried on their right side, and females on their left; children's sex determined by sideness (1997:877). It is difficult to envision only two genders when there are "wrong" sided burials, but Deverenski dismisses these burials as close to the margin of error expected in osteological sexing (1997:877, n.3). From here, she examines artifact types associated with the two sides.

The numbers presented in the article-- numbers of types of artifacts found with each sided burial in each period--are not manipulated and do not generally support the hypotheses with significant data. They do show some positive correlations, but the impression left is more a gaggle of charts and graphs than any solid data confirming the conclusions.

What Deverenski does find, however, is fairly interesting. There is a shift in artifact type and identity from Period I to Period II. Period I contains different age-related distributions, indicating perhaps cultural constructions of social age here were also gendered. This breaks down in Period II, where identity is less reliant on social age and more reliant on sex. For example, costume distribution changes with age in Period I, especially with males, whereas the main female element is a girdle around the pelvis that does not vary with age. In Period II, there is no distinctly male costume but the female girdle at age 20 remains. The low frequency of left-side burials in this period, however, makes it difficult to determine whether the distribution of girdles is truly gendered or the appearance of girdles around age 20 is a function of demography (Deverenksi 1997:882). Deverenksi presses that the change in costume distribution still exhibits a weakening of gendered age at the site.

The theoretical framework for separating sex from gender, where gender is a continuous process and sex a discrete variable, is a good one, and should be applied elsewhere. Simply interpreting grave goods, however, can lead to circular logic (Rega 1997). An integration of artifact analysis with biological analysis would provide a more comprehensive picture of gender. Though gender is socially constructed, social constructions can have an impact on the body-- social constructions affect gender relations and gender relations affect biological quality of life. Therefore, in larger cemetery analyses seeking a vision of gender in past societies, a more integrated approach would be much more useful in obtaining a balanced picture.

Rega (1997) does this in nearby Mokrin (2100-1500 cal. BC), where 75 percent of graves have goods. In the absence of settlement data (common to the area), she compares cemetery data with independent biological data drawn from cemetery occupants-- that is, demographic and dietary analysis from macroscopic, microscopic and chemical assessment. Rega aptly notes that methodological inadequacies in sexing skeletons do not really render the principal of biological sex itself ambiguous (1997:231). Among the biologically sexed skeletons, 94 percent had assignments that agreed with grave orientation, suggesting a highly gendered structure. Those at odds fall into the expected range of error, much like Deverenski's findings at Tiszapolgar-Basatanya. Rega therefore assumes that children may be symbolically gendered like adults. Rather than simply looking at grave orientation in children, she checks orientation against analysis of permanent teeth, which shows a general correspondence commensurate with her hypothesis.

Artifacts at Mokrin found exclusively with females include multiple coil bracelets, bone needles, and stone maces, though the maces are too few in number to be statistically significant (Rega 1997:233). The highest percentage of bone needles was found in girls age 6-13, suggesting perhaps needles are girl symbols carried on into adulthood. The only exclusively male artifacts are copper daggers or knives, and they were only found in males older than age 18.

Rega examined the mortality profile and survivorship curve to determine whether the cemetery is a representative cross-section of the contributing population or only a selection. She notes a total lack of individuals under the age of one, a typically high-risk age and easy to identify (1997:235-6). This suggests a separate treatment for the youngest individuals. More female children were found in the 1-6 age category than male children, suggesting perhaps the pool of females was larger and mortality greater for boys during the first year of life (assuming equal numbers of males and females are born). This fits in with general human demography (Rega 1997:237).

Rega suggests the potential for infanticide here, but does not press it. While sex-biased infanticide is difficult to see archaeologically, female-biased favoritism is documented in clinical studies and ethnographies of disparate political and geographical contexts and is a possibility at Mokrin. The fact that the numbers fit into general human demography, however, makes this biased favoritism harder to argue. Infanticide and/or favoritism aside, the exclusion from the cemetery and community of individuals under the age of one suggests a significant shift in perception of personhood at the one-year mark. Artifact distribution demonstrates other important age-gender relationships, particularly when examining artifacts exclusive to one-sex; their association with certain ages indicate a construction of gender identity within the biological lifecycle.

In extracting information on differential treatment from the biological data, Rega found evidence of similar diets and quality of life, both directly and indirectly, based on chemical paleodietary analysis, dental caries rates, and dental attrition (1997:238-9). She concludes that there is no differential "biological quality of life" between the sexes at Mokrin. While differences in "biological quality of life" between families and residential groups have been found, they are not apparently gendered.

In all, this seems like a more careful, balanced approach than Deverenski's study, although as Rega notes, much biological information is not well preserved in area, leaving studies to linger mostly on artifact analysis, and unfortunately, make assumptions as to the ownership of those artifacts. She continues with a salient point for mortuary analysis:

While the metal wealth in female graves may indeed represent a male contribution, the mortuary data alone do not allow determination of 'ownership,' whether symbolic or actual. Simple assertion of gendered arenas of power consistent with current virocentric assumptions is inadequate as an explanatory tool. (Rega 1997:241)

In terms of biological data, it seems Mokrin is an exception to be taken advantage of; though Deverenski does not indicate whether the skeletons at Tiszapolgar-Basatanya are preserved well, one might speculate that they are not.

With this prism in mind, analysis within the framework of gender-as-process pops up in glimpses at other studies that have not explicitly examined the age dimension of gender. The focus of the above studies on European archaeology exhibit a preference for certain area archaeologies to linger on certain topics that do not get translated into other localities; this is ineffective in developing a solid, systematic study. Though cross-cultural studies may not always be the best approach, applying models of investigation as broad as age and gender should be applicable worldwide.

For example, ethnohistories indicate that the Cherokee have a "Beloved Man" and a "Beloved Woman" status. Is this an altered gender, gender affected by age? Beloved Men (over the age of 50 or 60) do not go to war, unlike other men. While gender bias in ethnohistories leave little information on Cherokee women, we can attempt to cull some information from the spatial differentiation of burials--i.e. mounds or public areas, and whether they mean different things for different gender/age groups (Sullivan 2001). Factors such as status would also have to controlled, but with biological information at hand and a large enough cemetery, sketching out how gender construction changes with age could be possible.

In contrast to many sites, the Turner cemetery in southern Missouri/northeastern Arkansas (ca. AD 1325-1365) is populated mostly by adult women. Women here have the most goods (mainly ceramics), on average double the amount of artifacts than men (Wilson 1997). The low numbers of infants, elderly, and males is curious. Health and nutrition appear to be relatively equal, including similar life expectancies for men and women; therefore social status appears to be equal. She suggests that the nearby Powers Fort site, populated by mostly males may very well be where most of the "missing" men are, but what of the lack of infants and elderly? Perhaps the demography here indicates a certain way of life whereby infants simply survive, and adults generally die before reaching old age; it is difficult to make this interpretation without additional data from the area and time period. What can be gleaned from this, however, is preferential treatment of adult females in burial (based on numbers of artifacts), suggesting at the least an ideal held by the people of the area, and at the most an actual practice in life.

Wilson concludes that male status maybe partly achieved rather than ascribed by matriline, based on numbers of artifacts; when a male is recognized individually via individual burial, he has many more artifacts than when a male is buried with a group. Female individuals, however, do not generally differ in numbers of artifacts whether interred individually or with a group, therefore status for them does not change when recognized individually; the only differences among females are based along kin or residential groups, indicating stratification between groups. Ultimately, the difference in status recognition or achievement amongst the sexes, combined with the general demography of the cemetery, suggest a more explicit study of age and gender in the area is needed.

"Intimate" archaeologies

"Accessing individuals in the past is an explicit aspect of postprocessual archaeology" (Meskell 1998:363).

Lynn Meskell (1998) takes the case of Kha and Merit at Deir el Medina in an attempt at reinstating human agency and emotion into archaeological study. Deir el Medina, a well-documented Egyptian site, was home to a large group of highly talented and literate artisans and scribes, brought in by pharaohs to work on elite tombs. Meskell's approach may give insight into gender relations that other approaches cannot. She demonstrates that the individual can be accessed with closer attention to tomb data within secure contexts, such as the well-documented 18th dynasty Deir el Medina. This is therefore not entirely applicable to prehistory or even protohistory.

Highly variable tomb assemblages at the time demonstrate an array of individual experiences and personal choices in mortuary practice, rather than one standard response to death and the afterlife. Meskell highlights the idiosyncrasies of various tombs in the area and time period, including the inclusion of three miniature ceramic coffins for three winged insects, surrounded by a double necklace of blue and white beads (Meskell 1998:367). Textual evidence of individual involvement includes the well-known Egyptian adage: "Give property to the one who buries" (ibid). She thus concludes her introduction: "In sum, social negotiations surrounding death and burial relied on familial responsibilities and agreements and, as in our society, the family is the primordial source and locus of such trust (Misztal 1996:157)" (Meskell 1998: 367, emphasis mine). This feels a wee bit presentist. Could it imply an application of preconceptions, as Parker Pearson warned against regarding empathetic interpretations (1999: 104)? While ancient Egypt has many connections to Western society, this writer is wary of making this type of comparison.

Meskellıs individual approach is subsequent to two other approaches in a previous study (Meskell 1997, cited in Meskell 1998:367). First, specific artifacts that express social meaning and negotiations are examined on a more general archaeological level. This is followed by contextual analyses of specific tombs and individual burials to construct a social profile for individuals and social relations seen in the mortuary sphere. Establishing this framework prior to individual examination is crucial; studying a case without sufficient context would be a vacuous endeavor.

Following these two studies, Meskell zeroes in on Kha and Merit as a case study, and tells the story of Kha and Merit. Kha, the chief workman under the reigns of Amenhotep II, Tuthmosis IV and Amenhotep III, was able to build a tomb emulating those of the nobility, because of his wealth and relationship with the pharaoh. Meskell suggests he may have instigated material change in mortuary practices, as he may have been the first to construct a pyramid tomb complex, which became popular in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Dynasties (1998:371).

There is a significant difference in assemblages between Kha and his wife Merit. About 196 items are ascribed to Kha, many of them expensive and well crafted. Some gifts may be from the pharaoh himself; this is no surprise, as he was the royal architect. Only 39 items are ascribed to Merit. Except for her wig box, the hieroglyphics of her name are sloppy, devoid of the care seen in those of Kha. Six items are inscribed with both of their names. This differential wealth is not exceptional to the area.

Kha's items relate to his position as chief workman, as well as to his favorite past times and adornment. Almost all goods in the tomb exhibit signs of use, suggesting the items were used in life and therefore say something about Kha's life. Merit's goods, however, all relate to grooming, something not specific to women, since men used grooming tools as well. We therefore have no real picture of who she was.

Merit was buried in a coffin originally ascribed to Kha, indicating elaborate preparations were being made for him, and nothing was in preparation for herself. Similar patterns are seen all over Deir el Medina. Merit has fewer, poorer coffins. Her body was not prepared as well as Kha's, as it is not as well preserved. Furthermore, Meskell calculated a significant difference in direct cost of burials: Kha's 3,919 deben to Merit's 787 deben (1998:375). While both had relatively expensive burials, the difference between the two indicates an inequality between the sexes of the upper classes.

Following this analysis, Meskell then zooms back out, "embedding individuals" back into their social context. At the elite socio-economic level in the Western Necropolis, sex is a criterion for difference in wealth of assemblage. For the less prosperous in the Eastern Necropolis, however, age was the major criterion, and perhaps marital status, with little sex-based inequality. She notes that traditional scholarship always remarked on Egyptian women's comparable status to their male counterparts, in that legally, economically, and socially they were more free than their Mediterranean contemporaries, yet this is not demonstrated in the material, mortuary sphere (1998: 377).

Also at odds are numerous love letters and poems written by men about women, with no corresponding accounts from women. In a town as uniquely literate as Deir el Medina, the complete lack of literate women (or literate women that wrote anything that survived, to be more precise) is another dimension in which a gendered inequality can be seen.

Meskell concludes that the abundance of evidence from Deir el Medina renders more contradictions and less flexibility, and is therefore no easier than understanding gender relations in prehistoric societies (Meskell 1998: 377). This sheds no light on how the individual approach might be useful; it simply indicates it is just as hard (and perhaps the following implication is that it is just as worthy?). While it adds another dimension to the already rich history of ancient Egypt, the problem of identifying gender relations in prehistoric contexts still remains.

A study that contrasts Meskell's method nicely is an attempt to analyze sex and gender in predynastic Egypt, thus without contemporary historical context and without the individual approach. The study dismisses seeking the individual experience as "the domain of poetry and art requiring no systematic investigation or intersubjective validation, except inasmuch as we may validate and acknowledge the feelings of others" (Hassan and Smith 2002:45).

Hassan and Smith conducted a statistical analysis of grave goods from five predynastic cemeteries (2002). They could not refine their analysis to deal with age difference because data on age was unavailable and hoped to define domains of difference between the sexes (ibid: 46). This approach feels faintly structuralist, looking for meaning in opposition. The sample contained 291 graves: 170 female, 177 male. The final analysis included 10 variables; graves with no goods were excluded.

The contents of male graves are distinctly, possibly hierarchically arrayed, whereas female grave goods are a more homogenous group (ibid: 50). Females had a statistically significant greater average for toiletries, amulets, ornaments, polished red and rough ceramics, high-value items, cattle icons, and special/ornamental artifact ratio. Males had statistically significant greater means of projectile points, lithics, and skins (ibid: 51). There was no significant difference in volume of tomb or number of objects between male and female graves.

Hassan and Smith then analyzed anthropomorphic figurines from these graves. Assignments of sex were based on biological sex identifiers (e.g. genitals, breasts, and beards). No contradictions with other characteristics were found. Seventy-two percent of the figurines were female, and 28 percent were male. They acknowledge that as they are lacking comparable data from settlements on female activities and practices, they are only providing a glance at a certain dimension of gender in predynastic Egypt, within a mortuary context (ibid: 55).

The study looks to Egyptian religion and its ties with the monarchy to contextualize gender in the predynastic. They propose a backward and forward movement between historical sources and iconography and archaeology of predynastic past (ibid: 57). An association of women with cows and men with bulls in seen in the pantheon (a variety of cow goddesses and bull gods in textual traditions) as well as in predynastic motifs. There is a similar connection with ostriches, possibly linked with the soul, because ostriches are capable of magic flight in that, like humans, they cannot physically fly. Ostrich eggshell beads are common in the terminal Paleolithic and Neolithic in the Egyptian Sahara as well as depicted on Gerzean pottery and palettes as a common motif; the ostrich may be a symbol of life, because its egg shells are used as water containers in the desert, and later texts make important references to ostrich feathers (ibid: 60). They suggest a connection between women and souls and life-givers in that beaks as noses are exclusively portrayed in female figurines.

Females are associated with plants and earth as well. This is demonstrated by female figurines that are generally made of mud or a mixture of vegetable paste and mud, as well as a significant number of green grave goods (Hassan and Smith 2002: 63). Hassan and Smith reiterate that there is no significant difference in wealth and prestige and note eight out of twelve mace heads were associated with women (ibid: 63). They conclude that the divergence of male and female religious domains is likely to have occurred in the terminal predynastic/protodynastic times, with the emergence of male kings who may have been initially legitimized by their association of female goddesses (ibid: 63). Their grave good analysis also speaks to a general equality in predynastic times not seen in later grave treatments, such as those of Kha and Merit's. Of course, economic hierarchy in the predynastic was perhaps not what it was by the 18th dynasty. An examination of how gender relations evolve in the predynastic and dynastic Egypt would be an interesting pursuit. Accessing the individual may be difficult or impossible in prehistoric archaeology, but for the purposes of this paper, gender on the whole takes priority over individuals. What are at stake here are gender relations, which Hassan and Smith (2002) have provided a glimpse of. Meskell's approach has its merits (and perhaps should not be so readily dismissed), though it is limited to the domain of the historical.

Gender Mutability/ Two Spirit Undertakers


"We rarely examine one anotherıs genitals when being introduced to one another" (Arnold 2002: 241).

As mentioned earlier, the fluidity of gender, and indeed, its definition, has caused some problems in its pursuit. Gender's manifestation in the archaeological record is the product of cultural constructions that are highly variable both temporally and spatially (Silverblatt 1995, cited in Hill 1998:101). Tackling it is a slippery business, particularly when taking into account grays in the gender spectrum, that is, genders other than male and female, and assumptions of direct connection to biological sex.

Bettina Arnold (2002) argues clothing make the person, taking on the view of gender as performance (as others have theorized). For archaeologists, costume and role-related trappings included in burial provide views on gender configurations in the past. Though gendered analyses in cultural anthropology and archaeology have increased in the past decade, third-sex and/or third-gender categories and representations have been marginalized (Herdt 1994, cited in Arnold 2002:241). Arnold cites earlier attempts of Scandinavian archaeology to address the issue (Stromberg 1993) and notes there is no equivalent in North American archaeological publications. This may be because of increasing politicization regarding the study of Native American skeletal remains and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) of 1990 (Arnold 2002: 242). It also may be due to a general hesitation to address postmodern subjects and the deconstruction of colonialism.

Over 150 "gender transformers" or two-spirit people are documented in North American tribes, in every region on the continent and every type of society (Roscoe 1994, cited in Arnold 2002:243). Furthermore, there are virtually no ethnographically recorded cultures that do not exhibit some type of gender mutability (though Arnold does not list these ethnographies, or a place where they might be listed). The issue is not whether gender transformers existed in prehistory, but how to identify them in the archaeological record.

Arnold has several suggestions. Among them, she recommends identifying patterned correlations between morphologically identifiable sex and gendered material culture within a specific prehistoric mortuary context, in cemeteries of sufficient size to ensure a significant sample and well preserved burials (ideally). Among six questions of analysis, she includes whether there is genetic evidence of chromosomally "intersexed" individuals (recognized by the medical community, a category neither female or male, and that can be further broken down into smaller categories). Ideally, different researchers should be responsible for gender analysis of grave goods and sexing of skeletal material and DNA, with results compared to identify and interpret possible disjunctions.

In order to form an archaeological pattern, gender transformers must form a normative category in their society (Arnold 2002: 245). As such, periodic or temporary gender metamorphosis is unlikely to leave archaeological imprints (ibid: 252). Arnold continues, "If men and women were of comparable status and there were no specific injunctions against gender transforming, one would expect to see a similar male-to-female gender transformer ratio. Deviation from this pattern in either direction implies corresponding gender ideologies" (ibid: 246). She supports this with a discussion of the "upward mobility" encountered by women dressing as men in western culture and the deviant, "downward mobility" of men dressing as women. Furthermore, Arnold notes that though Zuni gender ideology includes a third gender in life, combining men and womenıs traits, third gender individuals are treated as their biological sex in death, in addition to their acquired cultural identity (ibid: 247). One should therefore see a conjunction of traits not seen in exclusively male or female graves.

Arnold calls for a cross-cultural study of changeable gender categorizations to determine whether and in what ways they might be archaeologically visible (2002: 252). Indeed, a study of this nature is essential to the examination of gender in prehistory and all possible avenues should be explored. A non-exhaustive table of possible categories to examine in archaeological mortuary contexts is included her paper, and a (hopefully) easier to read version is included here (Table 1).
Table 1 Possible categories of gender/sex configurations in archaeological mortuary contexts.. After Arnold (2002:249). Table reconfigured. Note that sexual orientation (asexual, bisexual, homosexual or heterosexual) is not archaeologically identifiable in any category. That portion of her table has therefore been excluded. Biological/Gender Identification Identifiable Archaeological Correlate 1.Biologically male/gender male Morphologically, Genetically Gender/sex conjunction 2. Biologically male/ gender female Morphologically, Genetically Gender/ sex disjunction possible 3. Biologically female/ gender female Morphologically, Genetically Gender/ sex conjunction 4. Biologically female/ gender male Morphologically, Genetically Gender/ sex disjunction possible 5.Biolgically male or female/ neither man nor woman Morphologically, Genetically Gender/ sex disjunction possible 6.Pseudohermaphrodite Genetically Gender/sex disjunction possible 7. True hermaphrodite1 Genetically Gender/sex disjunction possible

Sandra E. Hollimon (1997) attempts to tackle the question of third gender individuals in the archaeological record by looking at the two-spirit undertakers among the Chumash, Yokuts, Mono, and Tubatulabal of Native California. Two-spirit people (a.k.a. third gender, a.k.a. berdaches) are occupational specialists in undertaking, mourning ritual and practitioning in these groups. They are invested with spiritual power. Hollimon notes that because they formed part of the archaeological record, both as individuals and in their specialized activity as undertakers, they are necessary subject of study (1997: 174). Furthermore, taking into account all genders is necessary for understanding the gender dynamics of prehistoric society (ibid).

Her main approach involved analysis of ethnographies and ethnohistory. She notes confusion and difficulties in two-spirit studies because of confusing terminology, conflation of many distinct statuses, and biased observers. The sources of data are varied, and include: detailed ethnographies by trained anthropologists, culture-element distributions (where the presence or absence of standardized traits is noted), and ethnohistories by Europeans, under the influence of Catholic Church. Hollimon's information is mostly collected from the first forty years of twentieth century, therefore after any changes from European contact and the process of assimilation with western culture has occurred.

Two-Spirit undertakers were paid well for their services. They sometimes belonged to secret societies or guilds (King 1982, cited in Hollimon 1997:176). Their activities include: grave digging, transportation of body to the grave, singing/making spectacles by the graveside, and periodic ceremonies commemorating the dead. A virtual or actual synonymy of words (depending on the group) used to denote two-spirits and corpse handlers reflects a strong association of the two roles in these groups. Perhaps there is a conflation of the two-spirit status and specialized occupation, culminating in one identity. For example, there are similar terms in the Chumash language for gravedigger, homosexual, and celibate medicine man. Hollimon notes a lack of linguistically marked female gender category analogous to the male two-spirit. She suggests that if females were considered gender variant only during mortuary ritual, a term might not exist (1997: 183).

Some ethnographies report women, men and two-spirits as undertakers. Hollimon proposes that gender was modified while performing mortuary tasks, which then might revert to the individual's "original" gender after the tasks are over (1997: 182). Indeed, gender fluidity is noted among the Chukchi of Siberia, where there are five intermediary genders between male and female. Changes in gender can happen at any time and are not necessarily permanent (Jacobs and Cromwell 1992, cited in Hollimon 1997:182).

The third gender is often associated as a spiritual intermediary between the earthly and supernatural, between birth, marriage, and death. There is an oral tradition of two-spirit roles supporting this notion. A Western Mono (Monache) myth tells the tale of Berdache, who was an ogre and a cannibal. His power came from two talismans, a winnowing tray and pestle, tools traditionally used by women. He caught people and cooked and ate them, and then revived their bones after they died (Gayton and Newman 1940, cited in Hollimon 1997:185). Other myths from nearby groups associate cannibalism and two-spirits with supernatural power, and supernatural tools are often female tools. They are often regarded with fear and admiration. No simple dichotomy of positive or negative perceptions can be deciphered.

Finding two-spirits in the archaeological record may be tricky, but Hollimon provides some suggestions (Table 2). It would be difficult to identify baskets used for grave digging from fragments or impressions in the soil. There are as many men buried with baskets as women--either they were all two-spirit and/or undertakers or burial accompaniment is not solely indicative of the two-spirit/undertaking occupation. One should look for sex differences in degenerative joint disease. Two males about 18 years of age were found with severe spinal arthritis (most often associate with women in the area) and burial accompaniments, the only males buried with both basket impressions and digging-stick weights (Hollimon 1997: 186).

Table 2 Hypotheses for identification of two-spirit burials. After Hollimon (1997:187). Hypothesis 1: Gender is not symbolically marked in mortuary contexts. Test implications: a. High or moderate (51-100 %) overlap in burial accompaniments of males and females. b. No spatial differentiation between female and male burials. c. No stylistic differences (material, form, color, etc.) of clothing or ornaments. Hypothesis 2: Gender is symbolically marked in mortuary contexts. Test implications: a. Dichotomous treatment of male and female burials (artifacts buried with males are never found with females and vice versa). b. Spatial segregation of male and female burials. c. Stylistic differences between male and female clothing and ornaments. Two-spirit burial can be identified when: a. A male burial is associated with female artifacts. b. A male is buried in the female portion of the cemetery. c. A male is buried with female or third-gender clothing and/ or ornaments. d. An individual is buried with tools used in a third-gender craft or occupation (e.g., digging sticks and baskets). These tools must be sufficiently uncommon among other burials to indicate specialized use.

One should expect to find few two-spirits relative to a population, which will cause a sampling problem. Hollimon suggests a dichotomous treatment of male and female burials (mutual exclusion of artifacts), and an analysis of spatial segregation of male and female burials as well as stylistic differences between male and female clothes and ornaments. Most notably, she suggests it might be better to identify distinct accompaniments of a third gender, rather than simply looking for "men in women's clothing" (ibid: 187). It definitely would be better to identify the unique characteristics of a third gender, although as Hollimon cautions, any number of social variable (status, occupation, rank, etc) may be symbolized in a mortuary context and may not be a reflection of gender (ibid: 188).

Archaeological study of this subject is necessary to balance problematic ethnographies and ethnohistories, obviously biased by European contact, assimilation, and individual interpreters. The multivariate approach would benefit this type of analysis and help construct a more full picture. Of course, one must take into account Arnold's worry about archaeological study in United States; it may not be possible to pursue the subject to the fullest extent across cultures.

Elite tombs: The Queens of Silla & the Princess of Vix

Elite burials have garnered significant attention in archaeology, perhaps in part because of the potential of spectacular finds and valuable objects, or to be more precise, shiny things. In spite of this (or because of it, rather) elite burials provide insight into social hierarchy and perceptions of it. Two cases exhibit women in extremely high levels of power: the queens of Silla in southern Korea, and the Princess of Vix in central Europe.

Sarah M. Nelson refutes the thesis that "state-level societies are inherently characterized by gender hierarchy, and [. . .] other hierarchies are built on the model of inequality by sex and age" (1993:319). She examines the royal tombs of the Old Silla kingdom in southeastern Korea (57 BC- AD 668), which is centered around the city of Kyongju. In addition, she looks at historic documents describing social, economic, political, and religious systems. The 1973 discovery of the largest and most elaborate Silla royal tomb (Tomb 98), occupied by a woman with all trappings of power of early kingdom, is at the center of Nelson's discussion (Kim W.Y. 1981, cited in Nelson 1993:320).

The methods of burial and poor preservation limit age and sex data in Silla burials severely (Pearson et al. 1989). Add to this that most historical documents were written under the influence of Confucian or Buddhist ideals, imported ideas that may have differed from early Korean ideology, and one has entered a difficult situation. With this in mind, the following has been extrapolated on gender relations in Old Silla.

There is evidence of long-distance trade and human sacrifice in tombs. In the second-third centuries AD, trade with Rome was conducted via China. By AD 350-720, tombs show increasing amounts of high-status grave goods. Glass vessels from the West are common in high-status tombs, and may not have used China as mediator anymore. Trade routes and methods, however, remain unclear.

The social system is the most thoroughly recorded subsystem of Silla. Class stratification was rigid, and regulated via the kolpum system, meaning, "bone rank." Bone is a metaphor for kinship in Korean. Social position, therefore, was static throughout life. An individual would be born and die with the same position, though those of the highest rank have the possibility of joining the royal family. The highest group, songgol--Holy Bone--renders both sexes eligible for the throne (Kim C.S. 1977, cited in Nelson 1993:323). This is probably related to the complicated bilateral determination of descent.

Strict sumptuary laws were used to enforce the ranks, down to whether or not males or females of certain lower ranks may wear undergarments or what kind of material they are allowed to be. It must be noted that these regulations pertained to the living, not to the dead (Pearson et al. 1989: 9). Their manifestation in the mortuary context, therefore, may be different.

As stated earlier, relationships recorded in the king lists indicate no simple linearity, as descent was determined bilaterally. Three queens are noted to have ruled in their own right (Grayson 1976, cited in Nelson 1993:329). Korean documents do not have specific information on the gender of officials, but Japanese chronicles indicate the presence of female court officials in a system imported from the nearby Korean Paekche Kingdom (Barnes 1987, cited in Nelson 1993:325). The Wei Chih disdains the people of Chinguk because they did not discriminate by age or sex; the later application (or imposition) of Confucian ideals on the area is then recorded in that document as an accomplishment.

An early Silla association of girls called the wonhwa, though poorly understood, was transformed into the male institution of the hwarang, which functioned in moral and military training, as well as preparation for government leadership. It is recorded that the wonhwa preceded the hwarang but that the girls quarreled and functions were turned over to boys. This suggests women were involved in the government; that court functionaries in the Paekche state (more heavily influenced by Confucian China than Silla) included women may reflect a widespread pattern in southern Korea (Nelson 1993:329).

Women in Silla had significant religious power. They could become shamans, and were the majority of those who could manage supernatural issues (Kim Y.C. 1977, cited in Nelson 1993: 328). Shapes used in crowns are thought to be shamanic symbols, including stylized trees and antlers (Nelson 1993:325). Hence, a potent combination of political and spiritual power may have been available to some women (that, is, women already in high ranks) in Old Silla.

Tomb 98 is an example of one such powerful woman. Located in Kyongju, it is one of the largest of all Silla tombs, measuring 23 m high. A double mound, it is about 80 m in diameter each, at a combined length of 120m. The south mound contains a male, estimated 60 years of age based on a few teeth and mandible. He was found wearing a gilt-bronze crown and had "other personal ornaments [. . .] of rather poor quality" (Kim W.Y. 1976, cited in Nelson 1993:326). A separate pit beside the coffin contained a few crowns (silver and gilt-bronze), iron weapons, pottery, and glass vessels of Mediterranean manufacture.

The north mound burial contained a female occupant, identified by an inscription on a silver ornament on a ceremonial belt. She was found wearing one of the most magnificent gold crowns yet found in Korea, as well as gold belt with pendants only found in royal graves. Pearson et al. note gold was an especially important marker of high status in the area (1989:10), based on largest tombs' quantities of gold and mentions in the Samguk Yusa. The total weight of her gold jewelry came to nearly four kg. A Sassanian-style chased silver bowl found with the queen is possibly one of the silver wine cups mentioned in the Samguk Sagi as a gift to Silla from China (Nelson 1993: 326).

Identifying the occupants of Tomb 98 has been a matter of contention. Nelson lists the possibilities but does not have any positive preference. The earliest estimate is at ca. AD 400, the latest at AD 500. All possible occupants are elderly kings with younger wives that were daughters of previous kings and thus eligible to rule. This supports the thesis that the female occupant of Tomb 98 could very well have been a powerful queen.

Other archaeological information from the area helps to contextualize and shed light on the matter. Many burials in the regions around Kyongju are in male-female pairs, with relatively equal treatment in separate yet overlapping mounds (Nelson 1993). In one study, female burials give the impression of being larger and richer but this is based on a small sample, and therefore cannot lead to any serious conclusions (Pearson et al. 1989). At the very least, within the mortuary context, gender inequality is not apparent.

Nelson concludes that state-level political and economic power may coexist with gender equality, so long as kinship is the basic organizing principle among elites. Based solely on archaeological evidence, Tomb 98 appears to be occupied by a female ruler and a male military leader. Confucian and Buddhist documents may have suppressed a history of female rulers. Three queens recorded in the king lists had no husbands to which kingship could be ascribed. This indicates that there may have been more than three queens, or at least many co-ruling queens, as most kings' daughters did become queens.

The possible suppression of historical information by various ideological systems in Korea is certainly not a unique phenomenon, nor is a biased interpretation of archaeological remains. Bettina Arnold examines the Princess of Vix (here called Vix for short) in Central Europe as an example of biased interpretation (1991).

Princely graves in the Iron Age, specifically in the Late Hallstatt and Early La Tene periods, where artifact categories are comparable, are the context for this study. Vix is dated at about 500-480 B.C. (straddling the Hallstatt/La Tene transition). It also one of most magnificent elite burials in the area, like Tomb 98. Vix was found in a wooden burial chamber, 3 m by 3 m. Anthropologically sexed as a woman aged 30-35 years, she was laid out on a four-wheeled, highly decorated wagon (wheels on the side), a bronze cauldron, bronze basins, and the largest bronze vessel found in central Europe or the Mediterranean at the time, at 1.64 m high. She also had other bronze, silver, and ceramic vessels, as well as a gold neckring, all of which were imports. The burial was also dappled with bronze fibulae, beads, bracelets, and anklets.

Regularities in the grave goods of the area allow for a gendered analysis and comparison with Vix. Wagons were present in elite burials of both sexes, and appear to be solely status-oriented, irrespective of sex. Neckrings of gold, bronze, and iron were found in elite burials of both sexes as well. Some researchers claim gold neckrings of the type found in Vix are never found in female graves, and they use this to argue Vix was not female (Spindler 1983, cited in Arnold 1991:368). There is salient evidence against this argument, discussed further below. Arnold states gold neckrings were not gender-specific status markers in Early La Tene, but because Vix is in a period of transition, it may indicate a change in sumptuary rules for elite females.

Bracelets were found in elite burials of both sexes. Female burials, though, tend to have more and are distributed on the body symmetrically, whereas when male burials have bracelets, they are in small numbers and asymmetrically distributed. The styles of female bracelets tend to be in matching sets, whereas male bracelets are of different type, material, or decoration. Anklets are an exclusively female artifact type. Arnold states the presence of anklets in the Vix burial is the most compelling argument that Vix is a female burial. Weapons are almost exclusively male and absent from Vix. This makes her statement particularly difficult to refute.

Spindler interprets the Vix burial as a transvestite male priest, to explain the absence of weapons and presence of female grave goods of on obviously high status (Arnold 1991:370). Spindler is also skeptical of the osteological evidence, claiming the Vix skull is closer to the gracile Mediterranean type male measurements rather than the robust Nordic racial type. The question of a third gender here is rejected by Arnold not because its not a possible category but because "We know too little at present about the symbolic language of Iron Age grave goods to identify such a liminal group of individuals" (ibid: 372) and that the high status goods found at Vix are unambiguously female. Therefore the simpler explanation is the more likely, that being a woman of an extremely high, princely status.

Vix is not unique, but her burial is exceptional, even for a male. No burials have yet been found that are of equal magnitude. The most recent (and probably last) skeletal analysis of Vix, conducted in 1987 confirms the original interpretation of Vix as female (Arnold 1991:370). As Claassen notes, the later the sexing of a skeleton has occurred, the more accurate it is, and that anything sexed before 1975 should probably be re-sexed (2001:17).

Arnold urges for a broad comparative base of skeletal remains for the European Iron Age as well as a reexamination of material evidence to change the "grossly oversimplified [. . .] male dominated world view" that informs our picture of Iron Age society (1991:373). Indeed, such a study would be quite useful.

Vix and Silla are examples of women in high status positions, perhaps accompanied with considerable sociopolitical power, and in the case of Silla, even spiritual power; both burials are of exceptional magnitude for their time periods and locations. Arnold discusses female leaders and "honorary male" syndrome in a later study (2002: 251). Other women in power, such as Hatshepsut and Queen Elizabeth I, dressed as men, though Hatshepsut is depicted in male regalia more than Elizabeth who only dressed as a man when reviewing her troops. There is a question here of how they are buried and how they would be interpreted in the absence of historical documentation.

The cases of Silla and Vix are different in that we do not have contemporary representations of the documented female leaders, or in the case of Vix, any documentation or representation at all. The archaeological evidence points to female leaders in female regalia, different from "honorary male" syndrome and the upward mobility in cross-dressing in a patriarchal society. This therefore says a lot about gender relations in these two disparate societies, and how differently they may have operated from ancient Egypt, Renaissance England, or modern western culture for that matter.

Discussion

It is essential in examining gender through burial analysis to bear in mind both Hodder's points on the mortuary context as well as Hill's arguments for solid definitions, theories, and approaches (1983; 1998). What is expressed in the record is not an exact translation of the living reality, but a version the living present through the dead. In the absence of complementary settlement data, one should therefore make good use of biological data afforded by skeletal remains. Furthermore, expressing findings in well-defined terms would allow for proper academic dialogue.

Age is an important variable. Both Deverenski and Rega's studies, among others, demonstrate how it changes gender subtly or dramatically (1997; 1997). Age helps to construct gender. It changes the perception of gender, one's role and/or status, and the construction of one's gendered identity through time. The biological life cycle is an integral part of the age-gender dimension. Different stages in life signal different roles; as Claassen notes, the social function of gender is to organize and facilitate reproduction (2001). Naturally, those too young or too old to reproduce will configure their genders differently, and express them outwardly as such. They will also have different burial treatments; age can affect how many artifacts and what artifacts are interred, as well as where and how an individual is interred, if at all. Thus gendered age affects self-perception and perception of the dead by the living who bury them. Furthermore, the learning process an individual undergoes in acquiring cultural manifestations of gender is a testament to the fact that gender is not a fixed, static concept. Both studies discussed here demonstrate that.

Pinpointing an individual's experience in the past is an interesting way to help flesh out conceptions of past societies. There are, however, limitations to the individual approach. Its usefulness for historical archaeology may be seen Meskell's study, solidifying constructions of gender relations in historical periods via specific example. This approach does not, however, help the pursuit of gender in prehistory, relying on historical documents and ample context.

Another approach with limitations is ethnographic analogy. Hollimon's study relies heavily on ethnohistory and ethnography (1997). Hill laments the over reliance on analogy, but reminds us of its proper use (1998). Working with ethnography may generate hypotheses to be tested independently. It may be used as indicators of what to look out for in the archaeological record. Obviously things will not look exactly the same, but combined trappings of male and female gendered goods, for example, as well as goods that are perhaps found that are not exclusively male or female and only associated with certain uses (such as shamanic implements or burial tools), may be one way of looking for other genders. The obvious next step to Hollimon's study would be to make use of her archaeological recommendations and test her hypotheses on two-spirit undertakers. Questions of ethics and politics may prevent this pursuit, but Arnold's point about NAGPRA need not prevent an earnest attempt at properly pursuing the avenue in an ethical fashion.

Gender and hierarchy is another facet to explore in the mortuary context. The tomb of Kha and Merit shows an emulation of high status, although the proximity to the pharaoh did indeed bestow Kha with a privileged status; clearly, Kha's status did not lead to a burial of equal magnitude for his wife Merit. Class certainly affects gender relations; the differences in burial treatments between the Western and Eastern Necropolises, where sex was a criterion for differential wealth only in the affluent, Western Necropolis, certainly show this. Furthermore, change through time can be seen between Meskell's study and Hassan and Smith's. Connecting the dots between the two, and mapping evolving gender relations in the area would be fascinating pursuit.

The high status seen in Vix and Silla is another aspect of gender and hierarchy. Here, the women appear to be in power; they may, in fact, have a tremendous amount of power, based on the magnitude of their burials. Gender inequality, at least for Silla, is not apparent. Nelson suggests the different organizing principle, i.e. kin, is the reason for this maintenance of equality that dissipates in most state-level societies. Burial treatment of different female rulers and their less politically powerful contemporaries through time is one avenue of research that may prove interesting. This study could track both female leaders with "honorary male" syndrome and those such as Vix and Silla, who apparently required no shift in gender identity to maintain power.

Of course, one must keep in mind androcentric biases in history and interpretation. Feminist archaeology has done a good job at pointing out biased interpretations of prehistory, although the more politically charged work is more vulnerable to its own biases. Skewed visions of who could have power in prehistory and protohistory, as well as in historical documents leave much work to be done in gender archaeology. Arnold's plea for Iron Age Europe-- the need for a comparative bases of skeletal remains‹must be extended region by region, period by period, to see change in time on a world-wide scale. This is obviously no small endeavor.

It has been twenty years since the publication of Conkey and Spector's landmark task-differentiation framework for feminist archaeology (1984). That little theoretical or methodological progress has been made since is problematic (Hill 1998). However, much work has been done, and continues to be. It is the duty of further studies to use the maximum potential of existing frameworks, reconceptualized to include gender on both a macro and micro scale. Maintaining well-defined terms and checking political agendas at the door should allow the pursuit of gender archaeology to remain serious and rigorous, the rewards of such pursuit priceless.

Works Cited

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