"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Pride Month 2025 – Story of the Day

Christina of Sweden: The Queen Who Refused to Be a Woman

Crowned queen at the age of six and ruling in her own right by eighteen, Christina of Sweden stood as one of the most enigmatic and transgressive monarchs of the 17th century — a woman who refused marriage, dressed in men’s clothing, and filled her court with artists, philosophers, and female companions.

Christina cultivated a persona that rejected femininity and challenged dynastic expectations. She openly declared herself uninterested in marriage, calling it a “horrible and offensive thing.” She wore trousers, collected weapons, and preferred horseback riding to embroidery. But beneath the politics of refusal lay a more intimate rebellion: Christina was deeply attached to women, particularly Ebba Sparre, whom she called her “bedfellow” and “the object of my love.”

Their letters are saturated with romantic longing. While such language has often been dismissed as “romantic friendship,” Christina’s lifelong refusal of heterosexual norms, her masculine self-fashioning, and the central role of women in her emotional life suggest a queer consciousness articulated through sovereign performance.

In 1654, Christina abdicated her throne, converted to Catholicism, and relocated to Rome, where she lived as a patron of the arts and philosophy – continuing to inhabit liminal spaces of gender, faith, and sexuality until her death. She was buried in the Vatican, one of the few women to receive such honour – though she had spent her life rejecting the identity that burial presumed.

Advent Calendar

Sabine Baring-Gould — Glámr

The following story is found in the Gretla, an Icelandic Saga, composed in the thirteenth century, or that comes to us in the form then given to it; but it is a redaction of a Saga of much earlier date. Most of it is thoroughly

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Advent Calendar

Elizabeth Gaskell — The Heart of John Middleton

I was born at Sawley, where the shadow of Pendle Hill falls at sunrise. I suppose Sawley sprang up into a village in the time of the monks, who had an abbey there. Many of the cottages are strange old places; others, again, are built

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Sabine Baring-Gould — Glámr

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