Theodora was (most likely) born In 497 CE, a few years short of the dawn of the sixth century. She was the middle child of three, all girls, and more or less destined for disrepute. Her father was a bear trainer in the Hippodrome of Constantinople, capital of what we today tend to think of as the Byzantine Empire. If you’d asked anyone living there at the time, however, they’d have been far more likely to think of themselves as Rome.
While later historians would mark 476 CE as “the fall of the Roman Empire,” no one told Rome. Granted, they were plagued with endless foreign invasions (the Goths, the Vandals, and other punk-band sounding names) and struggling financially, but they didn’t exactly disappear – they just… adjusted a bit. The traditional capital in Italy was lost, but the seat of power had already largely shifted further east to what today is Istanbul. In reality, “Rome” continued until 1453 when the Ottomans overthrew their capital and changed the name.
Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.
The Bare Necessities
When you picture Roman chariot races, massive battle reenactments, and all the weird stuff they used to do to animals for entertainment, you probably include a standard “Roman coliseum” in the mix. One of the grandest was Constantinople’s Hippodrome. It’s not certain exactly what was covered by the title “bear keeper” (presumably it at least involved caring for the bears used as entertainment in various ways), but it definitely made Theodora and her sisters part of the “theater” class. Professional entertainment has always been a suspect class; it’s only in the past century we’ve begun celebrating entertainers as worthy of emulation or even idolization. For the previous thousand or so years, theater types were considered sketchy at best – right down there with Gypsies, Jews, and Tucker Carlson.
The details are a bit fuzzy, but the lines between “actress” and “prostitute” were pretty thin in the sixth century. It’s probably not that surprising that folks entertained by animals slaughtering one another or eating criminals or whatever weren’t overly highbrow when it came to their human entertainment. Much like today, fart jokes, violence, and sex were far stronger draws than philosophical discussions. Theodora was apparently quite ribald even at an age we’d consider WAY too young today, and for whatever reason she was VERY good at it.
She developed quite a reputation among fans of the “theater.” We can judge her for that if we like, but keep in mind that in most times and places throughout history, women have had very little political or economic power. They’ve been systematically marginalized and legally restrained. {Editor’s Note: if you live in a red state, please change this line to “some women have possibly at times been randomly subjected to unrelated episodes of sexism by individuals who coincidentally passed laws to reinforce their personal, non-systemic biases.”}
There was no option for Theodora to “study hard” or “make good choices” and get anywhere beyond tawdry routines and maybe some animal training. So, like many women who ended up in the history books, she used what she had – a gift for tantalizing men (and possibly a number of women as well) and a sharp mind – to raise her station. If she managed to break a few, um… “hearts” along the way, then so be it.
Working Her Way Up (And Down)
As sometimes happens when enough seed is sown, Theodora found herself with child and delivered a baby boy while still in her prime. The father was apparently happy to have a son, but less enthusiastic to be associated with the mother, so he took the boy back with him to whatever part of the world he called home. Not long after, Theodora had a chance to climb the social ladder a bit via an up-and-comer (as it were) named Hecebolus who was assuming the throne in Northern Africa. She lived in relative luxury for a time, but it seems the couple soon had a falling out and she was left with few resources and no way home.
It’s not certain what went wrong, but several plausible accounts suggest that while Theodora was confident and quick-witted, she lacked tact (or fear) when dealing with powerful men. This boldness was no doubt one of her most appealing qualities, but we’ve all read enough books and seen enough movies to know how things turn out for the saucy hottie once her target grows secure in his position and tires of her constant input and opinions. It’s likely Theodora shared one “insight” or criticism too many – a costly error she would never make again.
While it’s possible to trace her winding path back to Constantinople, the real story is the humiliation and degradation she suffered attempting to earn her sustenance and continue her travels. She’d been born into humble circumstances, but until now had always been able to seduce, charm, or think her way out of almost any crisis. It’s not that her beauty had faded – by all accounts she was still a stunner. She was simply in unfamiliar territory plying a far-too-common trade. It must have been devastating for her.
By the time she reached Constantinople, Theodora has been transformed – at least internally. She avoided the theater as well as the streets and found work spinning fabric, a humble but modestly respectable trade. She’d also become a devout woman committed to her religious faith. That’s where things will eventually get complicated.
Really complicated.
But that’s down the road. For now, we have a contrite Theodora, sitting at her spinning wheel, seeking Heaven’s approval, when Justinian somehow happens by. At 20, she’s half his age, but no doubt still quite a draw and certainly wisened by the years. Her past was at that point largely past, and it’s unlikely Justinian would have recognized her name or heard the stories. We don’t really have reliable accounts of exactly when they met or how their relationship first developed, but it seems likely that Justinian was drawn not only to her “maturing” beauty but her sharp wit and insight, now tempered by experience. It says nothing negative about Theodora if she jumped at the opportunity to nurture that interest. He was older, educated, and clearly on his way to bigger things – maybe she could come with?
Empress Theodora
When Justinian and Theodora first became a thing, Justinian was the trusted advisor and second-in-command to Emperor Justin I. (The similarity in their names is no coincidence – Justin was Justinian’s uncle and Justinian chose his name as an act of shameless flattery. His given name was “Flavius.”) While this was a great position to be in politically, it was inconvenient personally; the law prevented men in his position from marrying women with backgrounds like Theodora’s. It didn’t help that Justin’s wife simply could not stand the girl. Justinian and Theodora were free to do, you know… what people in love do – but officially, they’d have to bide their time.
Several years later, Justin I died and Justinian was the logical successor – especially after he had his only serious rivals murdered right there in the throne room. That meant the Empress no longer held formal sway over his life choices, and it was no real difficulty for him to simply change the laws which had prohibited their coupling.
Justinian I took the throne with Empress Theodora by his side.
The Nika Riots
In 532 CE, during Justinian’s fifth year on the throne, he faced the first real challenge of his rule. Political unrest had been growing as the emperor raised taxes and appointed abusively innovative men to help collect them. A botched execution and some weird crowd participation at the chariot races sparked this frustration into widespread rioting which continued for days. Much of Constantinople was burned down and Justinian’s efforts to pacify the masses did little to slow the destruction. These days are remembered as the Nika Riots.
Things went badly enough that Justinian and several of his top commanders eventually began planning their escape. One pictures them throwing robes, goblets, and scrolls into gilded trunks while racing around the room frantically – although in reality they were no doubt handling the situation with manly aplomb. (Dudes hate looking wigged in front of other dudes, and even more so in the presence of estrogen.) Nevertheless, it was time to get the #$%& out of Constantinople.
That’s when Theodora stepped in and spoke her peace:
My lords, it may be unseemly for a woman to add her voice to the affairs of men, but the situation at the moment is too serious for me to hold my tongue. We must focus on the wisest course of action – not ceremony or tradition.
In my opinion, fleeing is not the right course, even if it did somehow bring us to safety. It is impossible for a person, having been born into this world, to forever avoid death; but for one who has reigned it is intolerable to be a fugitive. May I never be deprived of this purple robe, and may I never see the day when those who meet me do not call me “Empress.”
If you wish to save yourself, my lord, there is certainly no difficulty. We are rich; over there is the sea, and yonder are the ships. But reflect for a moment whether, once you have escaped to a place of security, you would not gladly exchange that safety for death. As for me, I agree with the adage that purple is the noblest shroud.
The Color Purple
Theodora’s closing statement is sometimes translated as “I would rather die as royalty” or some variation thereof. Purple was so closely associated with and limited to royalty that official approval or high office were often referred to simply as “the purple.” An officer promoted to duty in the royal chambers was “elevated to the purple.” Royal children were “born in the purple,” and so on. (Naturally, any outside use of the color – even if somehow available – was strictly forbidden.) So… the “royalty” translation is thus accurate enough, but it lacks the flourish one might reasonably expect of someone brought up in the theater and extremely gifted at producing pretty much any emotion or reaction she wished in her “audience.”
Theodora’s rhetorical skill doesn’t imply deception or insincerity; there’s every reason to believe she meant precisely what she said. She’d been a commoner, and she’d lost the throne once before (in Northern Africa). She had no interest in repeating either experience. “Purple is the noblest shroud” was not merely poetic; it was a poignant reminder of what it meant to be truly “royal.” it was a statement of values, and self, and a worldview not easily forsaken once attained.
On a more practical level, the speech was a bit of a shamer as well – “Of course we could run, but… is that really who we want to be? I’d rather take my chances here and die at the top than hide at the bottom.” And it worked. Justinian and crew decided that perhaps they hadn’t exhausted their other options after all. They regrouped and ended up slaughtering tens of thousands of malcontents until order was restored.
Which I suppose counts as a “win.”
The city was rebuilt (the Hagia Sophia is particularly nice) and Justinian would go on to do lots of important stuff – not the least of which was his famous “Code of Justinian,” which formed an important link in the evolution of western legal systems. Theodora would stick around as well, often supporting Justinian and other times subverting him – especially in matters of faith. For the moment, however, she’d locked herself into history as a strong female, using the tools at her disposal to improve her situation and standing firm when those around her were about to break.
She remains, in our collective memory, forever shrouded in that purple she so craved. While she’d hardly qualify as “hero” or “role model,” she certainly at least earned that.
Don’t get excited – I’m not diving into current events or anything. (I’m 
So how could we do this if we’re not in the same place?
I like several things about this lesson in this format:
There are, of course, several downsides:
For more years than I can count, I found it odd that for all the amazing things special effects could do, snow in movies and TV shows looked so fake. Maybe it was one of those things like making gunshots sound richer and fuller than they often do in real life or allowing actresses to wake up in the morning with perfect hair and makeup. Maybe it served some purpose I didn’t fully grasp, and was intentional. It’s not like I spent a great deal of time thinking about it or writing angry letters to Steven Spielberg and Ron Howard – it was just something that bugged me… even when I wasn’t consciously aware of it.
Good morning. Welcome to our first back-to-school faculty meeting. We have several important items on the agenda today, then we’re going to fill the afternoon with pointless activities we found online because the district says we have to professionally develop until at least 3:00 whether we need it or not.
The second thing I’d like to point out are the communication guidelines we’ve instituted. Teachers should absolutely avoid connecting with students on social media in any form. We’d prefer you not communicate with the world around you at all – at least not about anything of substance. You may post recipes or pictures of student activities with all names and faces blurred out, but nothing personal, political, social, or humorous. No matter how benign, there’s a chance someone in the community will find it and erupt in faux outrage, convinced that if you’re sharing it on Facebook with a small group of select friends, you’re probably brainwashing minors with it all day, every day, because that’s what liberals do.
The final section I’d like to discuss on your pink handout involves lesson planning. We’re going to start asking you to submit written lesson plans for approval at least one week in advance each week. It’s come to our attention that some of you – and I’ll confess that the English and Social Studies departments are particularly culpable here – have been making explicit or implied connections between subjects you cover in class and events going on in the community, the U.S., or the world today. This is simply unacceptable.
There’s a difference between caring how well you’re actually doing your job and caring how well you do on official evaluations. Ideally, the two at least overlap – like a Venn Diagram or pop and hip-hop. That’s not always a given, however. In practice, it’s often more like the relationship between reality and reality TV.
Teacher evaluation rubrics usually involve detailed sub-categories cascading for pages under ranking columns with names like “Excellent,” “Adequate,” “Could Be Better,” “My God You Suck,” and “Not Observed.” These are laid out in a giant spreadsheet or in an iPad app with descriptions of where a teacher might land on each measured characteristic.
Here’s the other thing: it doesn’t matter if there’s a pandemic or if every teacher in the building is a Mr. Miyagi, Dewey Finn, or John Keating. “High expectations” means a percentage of them have to be scored harshly because “high expectations.” It’s like a college course being graded on a curve and there were going to be 3 ‘A’s, 10 ‘B’s, 12 ‘C’s, 10 ‘D’s, and 3 ‘F’s no matter how well or poorly individuals might actually do. Oh, and your grade for the entire course is based solely on page 3 of one of the 12 essays you’re required to do that semester.
It didn’t go well. He was marked down for things like insufficient connections to prior knowledge – despite the evaluating administrator arriving 10 minutes after the lesson started and the kids not actually having much in the way of applicable prior knowledge. Two kids were doing other things on their iPads which he couldn’t see but the administrator could, meaning he lacked “awareness.” Other than that, it was lots of blank stares and hostile body language. (Also, the kids didn’t seem that glad to be there either.)
The day before the visit, the building principal came on the intercom and announced that tardies were out of control and that teachers were to lock their doors when the bell rang – no exceptions. Those students would report to detention for the rest of the period. (1st period, unsurprisingly, has more tardies than any other hour.) That announcement was followed by a list of all the busses running late that day. There were always at least 3 – 4; that day Mr. Lutum estimates it was more like 7.