5. Did you know that Homer does not tell us what Helen or Achilles looks like?
On April 6th, 2018, the BBC ONE and Netflix collaborative production, Troy: Fall of a City made its US premier. This 8-episode series depicted events catalyzing the Trojan war (when Zeus had Paris ‘choose’ whether Hera, Athena, or Aphrodite was the most beautiful goddess), incidents from the war itself, and Troy’s sack. It was also promoted as an adaptation of Homer’s Iliad or Odyssey, not a ‘faithful’ reproduction. The reception of Troy: Fall of a City was largely unenthusiastic. One reaction did make headlines, however. Some viewers were outraged that the actors playing Zeus (Hakeem Kae-Kazim), Achilles (David Gyasi), and Patroclus (Lemogang Tsipa) were ‘black’, arguing that this casting decision was disrespectful to Homer’s Iliad and its legacy because it was ‘historically inaccurate.’
This coming July 17th, 2026, director Christopher Nolan’s movie The Odyssey will hit theaters in both IMAX and regular format. Given Nolan’s record of creating visually arresting, sweeping, epic films, excitement is brewing. Snippets of the film, along with stills and a cast list, are being released in controlled fashion to keep the film’s potential audience in suspense. But one confirmed casting decision has garnered a negative reaction among some individuals — namely, that academy award winner Lupita Nyong’o is playing Helen (and, possibly, Helen’s twin sister Clytaemestra). Because Nyong’o happens to be ‘black’, some argue that casting her as Helen/Clytaemestra is an ‘historically inaccurate’ affront to Homer’s Odyssey and Greek and/or ‘Western’ culture.
Aside from the fact that visual media creators should be free to cast whomever they please for their fictional adaptations, the complaints above are also unsupported by ‘Homer’ or history. In fact, they are only possible because many modern people incorrectly assume that ancient Greeks were ‘racially’ equivalent to modern ‘white Europeans’. But the ancient Greeks were a diverse Mediterranean people who interacted with, influenced, and were influenced by, any number of nations and groups in the Mediterranean and its environs (for which, see this site’s post and pdf presentations for “Were the ancient Greeks and Romans ‘White’?”). And as we shall see, neither the Iliad, nor the Odyssey, nor the oral tradition from which they flow, nor the cultural context in which they were performed, nor the historical eras that they purport to represent, support the complaint that ‘black’ actors should not play Homeric characters.
The discussion below falls into five parts. Each part is self-contained and can be used as an individual ‘lesson’.
- Part 1: How epic poetry (and mythology, generally) functioned in ancient Greek society offers important background information for the rest of the discussion.
- Part 2: How translating Homeric color terms is more complex than many realize quickly discusses how different cultures experience, interpret, and use color terms differently, and why this matters for ‘Homer’ translations.
- Part 3: What ‘Homer’ says about the appearance of Helen, Achilles, and other characters examines and discusses passages from Homer’s Iliad. (3a. Descriptions of Homeric characters, generally; 3b. Helen; and 3c. Achilles) ***PDF HANDOUT***
- Part 4: Why it is misguided to argue that a ‘black’ Achilles or Helen is historically inaccurate quickly discusses how the ancient Mediterranean and the Homeric tradition were both more diverse than many modern students might realize, then discusses the history of the epic genre, itself, before asking some important questions.
- Part 5: Conclusion, sums up what the first four parts indicate.
- Bibliography
Useful definitions:
- epic tradition/oral tradition: stories/myths celebrating & commemorating the exploits of gods and heroes (sung by epic poets long before writing was introduced to ancient Greece);
- epic poet: a bard, often itinerant, who sang epic poems for a living. Trained from a young age, bards could (and did) improvise/modify their poems as they sang.
Part 1: How epic poetry (and mythology, generally) functioned in ancient Greek society
What do Helen and Achilles look like according to the Iliad and Odyssey? We do not know! To explain why this is so, it helps to understand how epic handles character description, generally. Whoever ‘Homer’ was — either an individual or a group of individuals — ‘he’ did not describe any character in detail. Why not? To avoid alienating his listeners or detracting from the story’s ‘magic’/grandeur. Achilles and Helen, for example, are demi-gods! How does one describe Helen, Zeus’s only mortal daughter, the most beautiful, alluring woman in the history of the world? What if the poet’s Helen falls short of an audience’s expectations? It is better to let listeners imagine their own version of ‘the most beautiful woman.’ The same goes for Achilles, the glorious son of the sea-goddess Thetis and the greatest mortal warrior in human memory — or Agamemnon, Odysseus, Ajax, etc. In fact, all Greek myths avoid detailed character descriptions, since they, too, are part of the oral tradition: the English word ‘epic’ comes from the Greek word epos, ‘speech act, utterance, word’; ‘myth’ comes from the Greek word muthos, ‘authoritative spoken word’. Bards singing epē or muthoi about heroes and gods generally left their characters’ appearance to the audience’s imagination.
Yet also, Greek myths pre-dated Greek literacy by centuries, and because they were recited or sung, not written down, each region/city-state eventually developed its own, distinctive mythological tradition. There was no ‘official’, agreed-upon version of any one ‘Greek myth’. (Ancient Greeks were more comfortable with this kind of ambiguity than most modern, literate people seem to be). Additionally, Greek poets often adapted myths to suit their immediate, performative needs. For example, victors in Pan-Hellenic games (e.g., the Olympian, Pythian, Isthmian, or Nemean games) would hire professional ‘praise poets’ like Pindar (late 6th c. BCE – 5th c. BCE) to compose choral odes celebrating their victories. Pindar would ‘mythologize’ victors, associating them with their ‘hometown’ heroic tradition and manipulating mythological details as needed to suit his praise narrative. (This was not considered impious, since Greeks thought victory at a Pan-Hellenic game meant a victor was supported by both his local gods/heroes and the god overseeing the games). Similarly, Athens’ tragic festival (the City/Great Dionysia) featured a competition between three playwrights. Each poet wrote a group of four plays (three tragedies and one comedy) that typically retold famous myths. Judges (audience members chosen by lot) then voted for the group of plays they liked best. In other words, Athenian playwrights modified well-known myths to please their Athenian audience and win the contest. The one unspoken rule for adapting myths seems to have been this: do not change the defining aspects of a hero’s story/fate. For example, Achilles is the greatest warrior at Troy and dies before Troy falls. Herakles performs labors. Orestes kills his mother to avenge his father. Everything else is negotiable.
Similarly, though Homeric poetry theoretically portrays a ‘heroic’ version of the bronze age, the world it actually describes is a mish-mash of bronze age and dark age elements: Mycenaean (bronze age) boar-tusk helmets, chariots, bronze blades, and tower-shields exist alongside dark age ‘Boeotian’ shields, iron weapons, social organization, and funerary practice (e.g., cremation of the dead). This is the case because, for generations, bards not only improvised details as they sang but wove those details into material passed down from previous bards. Epics were filled with anachronism and invented visions of the ‘heroic age.’ The Iliad and Odyssey, then, are simply ‘Homer’s’ versions of the heroic world and its stories — excellent versions, to be sure, but they were not the final word about the characters or events they describe. This leads to another important point: Homer’s epics are fictional. Yes, ancient Greeks considered epic historical (and evidence suggests they were right to do so). Yet even though they believed that epic poetry immortalized names and great achievements (‘big picture’ events), they did not consider it a detailed account like that of a modern history textbook. Epic songs were effectively ‘historic fiction’, or even ‘fan fiction.’ Indeed, stories from the epic tradition survived through the centuries because they were entertaining. And bards regularly adapted their narratives — e.g., adding (invented, improvised) details, or weaving local myths or heroes into their songs — to keep their audiences entertained.
But another important question to ask about epic poetry or ‘Homer’, is this: what are the poems really about? Were they just ‘historical’ narratives? Epic was also gripping because it centered human emotions and connections. As the Iliad opens, the young Achilles is entirely focused upon his honor and being appropriately respected for his worth as ‘the best of the Achaeans.’ But the Achilles we see in Iliad 24 sits weeping beside a grieving Priam (Troy’s ruler and the father of Achilles’ mortal enemy Hektor). Priam grieves the loss of Hektor, his other sons, and Troy’s imminent destruction. Achilles weeps because he misses his beloved Patroclus and now fully realizes that he will never again see his father Peleus. The Iliad ends with its hero Achilles in mourning — caring more about the loved ones he has lost than any glory he may have won in battle. Similarly, in the Odyssey, Odysseus struggles for years against gods and monsters then rejects the divine Calypso’s offer of actual immortality, because he longs to be with his wife and son. Though set in the heroic age, these poems center human relationships and emotions, especially how love and/or loss drive heroes to perform memorable deeds. Epic’s emotional aspect can be felt and shared by each listener, which adds to its power as entertainment. It might also explain, at least in part, why epic — a tradition of stories sung to an audience — is less focused on its characters’ appearances.
Thus, like ‘Homer’, Pindar, Aeschylus, and other ancient Greek poets, the creators of Troy: Fall of a City and The Odyssey have adapted the epic tradition, the better to: a) suit their immediate artistic needs/aims; and b) make an ancient story both accessible and entertaining for a 21st century audience. Neither Greek epic, nor Greek mythology, nor Greek culture is being ruined or rejected when a modern creator ‘modifies’ a mythological character’s appearance — especially since our sources never include such details (see part 3). Though people are welcome to dislike a creator’s choice, the creator cannot legitimately be accused of cultural sabotage for making that choice. Intriguingly, too, modern disputes over who is ‘best’ to play a role embody the problem that bards were trying to avoid with their ‘less is more’ approach to epic character description — namely, that “you can’t please all the people all the time”. But unlike bards, who lived in an oral culture, we live in a visual one, so our creators must choose a cast. Ultimately, from a mythological perspective, a creator’s most important task is to ‘protect’ a myth’s essential plot: Helen’s beauty was so impressive a Trojan prince either kidnapped her or eloped with her (the Greeks could never agree which), starting a war in which that era’s greatest warrior (Achilles) died. How one chooses to depict Helen or Achilles is negotiable. (Back)
Part 2: How translating Homeric color terms is more complex than many realize
Before discussing any color terms associated with Helen or Achilles, it helps to know that the “descriptions of colors found in Homeric epics [often] match…poorly to our perceptions of color” (Pharos 2018). Why? Because different cultures experience and handle color differently. Sometimes, because a Homeric color-word’s important cultural context/meaning is invisible to modern readers, they can draw anachronistic conclusions about its meaning. Similarly, modern readers might miss how, in the right context, a Homeric color-word’s metaphoric associations can override its color aspect. Yet also, as Sassi 2017 demonstrates, ancient Greek “chromatic culture” had a “predilection for brightness… experience[ing] colours in degrees of lightness and darkness rather than hue.” (Hue is how many people today experience color: tracking color difference along the Newtonian spectrum: ROYGBIV, white, and black). Additionally, Greeks cared about a color’s “glitter effect”, for which reason Plato’s Timaeus (67c-68d) lists the primary colors as “white, black, red, and, most remarkably, ‘the brilliant and shining’, which to us is not a colour at all” (Sassi 2017).
Hence, the famous (and beautiful) Homeric phrase ‘wine-dark sea’ does not mean that the sea looks red or purple; rather, it reflects: a) the Greek penchant for noting bright, glimmer effects: a ‘wine-dark sea’ is reminiscent of how wine shines in a cup (Sassi 2017); and b) the Homeric practice of using color terms metaphorically: the sea is only called ‘wine-dark’ after tragic events, “represent[ing] the mood of a scene more than the superficial color” (Pharos 2018; also Smith 2014). Similarly, the word argos means ‘white’ and the “flashing speed” of “lightning” or “fast-moving dogs” (Whitmarsh 2018). Significantly, too, for our purposes: Zeus and other gods are said to have blue (kuanos) eyebrows and/or hair. (We also see Athena ‘restore’ Odysseus’s graying beard to a youthful, kuanos color in 16.176). Though translators often render kuanos as ‘dark’, the blue it represents ranges from the deep blue color of the night sky to the brighter blue of lapis lazuli. Scholars suspect that the gods’ hair is often called blue “because of their association with the sky… in keeping with the metaphorical quality of Homeric color terms” (Pharos 2018)). However, because translators generally strive to make Homeric texts sensible to their audience, odd color moments like this (or rather, moments our culture would consider odd or unexpected) can become obscured. Suffice it to say, we will see further examples of such ‘color’ complexity below.
(For more about how differently ancient Greeks experienced color and how very much their use of color terms differs from ours, see especially Sassi 2017 and Whitmarsh 2018). (Back)
Part 3: What ‘Homer’ says about the appearance of Helen, Achilles, and other characters
***PDF HANDOUT***
Again, we do not know what Helen or Achilles ‘looked like’ because Homer’s epics do not describe characters in physical detail. Instead, they mention personal qualities or use comparative descriptions, allowing audience members to draw their own conclusions about specifics. Even for those moments when we might feel comfortable assigning a specific physical trait to a character, it is a single trait (e.g., Menelaus in 3c). The rest is left to our imaginations.
3a. Descriptions of characters’ appearances in Homer, generally:
In Iliad book 3, Menelaus and Paris agree to fight a ‘winner take all’ duel to end the war over Helen. While Priam and Helen sit on top of Troy’s walls watching preparations for the fight, Priam asks Helen to identify some Greek commanders. (The translations below are from Wilson 2023):
i. Agamemnon: “Now who is that / enormous man down there? Please let me know. / I have seen others taller, but my eyes / have never seen a man with such good looks, / with such authority. Indeed, he seems / so like a leader”. Glorious Helen answered, / …I can give an answer to your question. / That man you see down there is Agamemnon, / the son of Atreus, whose power spreads / across a wide expanse of land. He is / a skillful leader and a strong spear fighter, …” (p. 63, vv. 205 – 21).
ii. Odysseus & Menelaus: Then old king Priam saw Odysseus / and said: “Dear daughter, come now, tell me also / who that man is — much shorter in his stature / than Agamemnon, son of Atreus, / but broader in his shoulders and his chest. / His weapons have been set down on the earth / that feeds us all, and he himself is pacing / among the lines of soldiers, like a ram. / I would compare him to a thick-fleeced ram / among a mighty flock of bright white sheep.” / And Helen, child of Zeus, made this reply. / “That is intelligent Odysseus, / Laertes’ son, brought up in Ithaca, / a rugged island. He knows every trick / and he can always form the wisest plans.” / Then wise old Antenor said to Helen, “Lady / your words are true. Godlike Odysseus / came into Troy with warlike Menelaus / a while ago, upon an embassy / to try to get you back…. / I got to know their looks / and how they think….. / and when they both were standing, Menelaus / was more imposing, with his massive shoulders. / But when they sat, Odysseus had more / authority…. / Menelaus could speak fluently, / few words but clear ones, brief and to the point. / But when the brilliantly intelligent / Odysseus leapt up, he kept his eyes / fixed on the ground and did not move his staff / forward or back, but kept it still — as if / entirely ignorant of its proper use. / You might think he was angry, or a fool. / But when he did release his mighty voice / from deep inside his chest, he poured forth words / like winter snowflakes. No one then could match / Odysseus and we no longer thought / to notice his appearance.” (pp. 64-5, vv. 237-277).
iii. Ajax & Idomeneus: “…Then old Priam saw a third fighter, Ajax, and he asked, / “Who is this other big, strong Greek, who stands / taller by head and shoulders than the rest?” / Majestic Helen in her long fine dress / replied, “That giant warrior is Ajax, / the Greek defender. On his other side, / the godlike Idomeneus is standing / among the Cretans,…”. (p. 65, vv. 277-85).
These descriptions focus on qualities (a good leader or spear-fighter, a clear speaker, an imposing or ‘godlike’ man, etc.). When physical characteristics are described, it is ‘comparatively’: someone is shorter, taller, or broader than others. Notably, too, this connected series of character descriptions is unusual. It probably ‘introduces’ these characters to: 1) keep the audience in suspense before describing the duel itself; and, 2) give us a cast of important characters before book 3’s ‘duel arrangement’ collapses and book 4 launches into the Iliad’s extended battle narrative (which becomes increasingly dire for the Greeks as the poem progresses, due to the angry Achilles’ absence). Most other characters’ descriptions are brief & scattered throughout the text, like those of Helen and Achilles. (Back)
3b. Helen
Given Helen’s legendary beauty, modern readers might be surprised at how little we know about her appearance. Instead of recording physical details, ‘Homer’ has us infer her preternatural beauty by reporting how others react to her. For example, in Iliad 3.154-60, when Helen first joins the Trojan elders on the wall to watch the duel between Paris and Menelaus, they respond to her beauty as follows (translation by L. Himmelhoch, May 2026):
οἳ δ᾽ ὡς οὖν εἴδονθ᾽ Ἑλένην ἐπὶ πύργον ἰοῦσαν,
ἦκα πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἔπεια πτερόεντ᾽ἀγόρευον:
‘οὐ νέμεσις Τρῶας καὶ ἐϋκνήμιδας Ἀχαιοὺς
τοιῇδ᾽ ἀμφὶ γυναικὶ πολὺν χρόνον ἄλγεα πάσχειν:
αἰνῶς ἀθανάτῃσι Θεῇς εἰς ὦπα ἔοικεν:
ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς τοίη περ ἐοῦσ᾽ ἐν νηυσὶ νεέσθω,
μηδ᾽ ἡμῖν τεκέεσί τ᾽ ὀπίσσω πῆμα λίποιτο.
And when they [the Trojan elders] saw Helen arrive at the tower,
quietly to one another, they spoke winged words:
‘That the Trojans and well-greaved Achaians should endure painful
suffering for so long, for a woman like this, cannot be faulted/blamed.
In her appearance, she is terribly/eerily like the immortal goddesses.
But even so, as beautiful as she is, let her sail home in a ship.
And for us and our future children, may she not leave disaster in her wake.'
The above passage constitutes our sole ‘direct’ description of Helen. It mentions no physical traits. We infer how astonishing her beauty is via its destructive power. But of course, adjectives and epithets are applied to Helen elsewhere in the text. For the record, the most common one is Ἀργείη, Argeiē, ‘Argive/from Argos’ (Edmunds 2019: 40). When it comes to her appearance, however, she is called:
- δῖα γυναικῶν, dia gynaikōn (‘shining among women’ — when applied to mortal women, dia means ‘shining, divine (in origin or appearance), noble, queenly’);
- ἠΰκομος, eukomos (‘beautiful haired’, ‘beautifully-coifed’, not ‘blond’);
- καλλίκομος (kallikomos, ‘beautiful-haired’, not ‘blond’);
- καλλιπάρῃος (kalliparēios , ‘beautiful-cheeked’, e.g., a bride’s youthful appearance); and
- τανύπεπλος (tanupeplos, ‘long-robed, with trailing gown’).
Finally, there is the adjective λευκώλενος (leukōlenos), traditionally translated as ‘white-armed’ but also meaning ‘pale-armed’, ‘bright-armed’, ‘smooth-armed’, or ‘bare-armed’. Though largely associated with Hera, it can also describe mortal, aristocratic women, and is applied to Helen once in the Iliad (3.121) and once in the Odyssey (22.227). Those objecting to Nolan’s choice of a ‘black’ Helen regularly invoke this adjective as ‘proof’ that Helen was racially ‘white’. Yet scholars generally agree that leukōlenos indicates gender and status, not racial skin color: In ancient Greece (and Homer), the adjective leukos (‘white’, ‘pale’, ‘bright’, etc.) was gendered as ‘feminine.’ Why? It reflected the cultural expectation that ‘proper’/aristocratic women stayed indoors, out of the sun, which made them paler/brighter/whiter than lower-class women and men. Hence, leukōlenos describes how noblewomen were ‘typically’ paler than ‘darker’ men or common-women — or, rather, given how focused Greek color words were on ‘brightness’, their arms appeared ‘brighter’ than those of ‘darker’ men or common women. Though modern readers associate the idea of ‘white’ skin with ‘race’ (an entirely modern connection, by the way), for ancient Greeks, its use in relation to women does not refer to racial skin color at all. Indeed, the contrast between ‘pale’ women and ‘dark’ men was a “widespread cliché” in Greek culture, a type of cultural “prejudice” (Sassi 2017) — a gender stereotype so entrenched that you would never call a Greek man leukos unless you were accusing him of effeminacy! The Homeric adjective leukōlenos also corresponds to the contemporary ‘archaic black-figure pottery’ convention of painting all men ‘black’ and all women ‘white’ — even the Ethiopian princess Andromeda! This Greek cultural association between ‘women’ and ‘paleness’ meant Andromeda’s dark skin was less important to mark than her gender. Or, put another way, Andromeda’s skin color was left to the audience’s imagination.
One final point: noticeably, those citing the adjective leukōlenos as proof of Helen’s racial ‘whiteness’ never suggest that Odysseus was racially ‘black’ because he is called ‘black-skinned’ (μελαγχροιής, melangkhroiēs) in Odyssey 16.175. Nor, presumably, would they argue that the black-figure pottery convention of painting Greek men ‘black’ reinforces the possibility that Odysseus was ‘black’. Anyone who uses Homeric color-words to argue that Homeric Greek skin was ‘racially white’ is not just being historically incorrect or anachronistic (since the construct of ‘whiteness’ is modern), but using ancient evidence selectively.
In sum, leukōlenos is very likely a (stereotypical) gender marker, a female-specific adjective for ‘noble’ primarily alluding to an aristocratic woman’s domesticity — not a descriptor for the entirely modern racial concept of ‘white’ skin. Further, because it implicitly contrasts a ‘paler’ noblewoman with ‘darker’ men and common women, leukōlenos leaves space for an audience to imagine Helen as a woman of any skin color — a Helen whose (bare) arms are ‘paler’ (or ‘brighter’, as ancient Greeks might say) than they would be if she regularly worked outside under the Mediterranean sun. (Back)
3c. Achilles
In keeping with the traditional practice of avoiding detailed character description, the Iliad does not tell us what Achilles ‘looks like’. Instead, we are left to infer that he is both beautiful/handsome and imposing.
The first modifiers applied to Achilles are the patronymic Πηληϊάδεω, Pēlēiadeō, ‘son of Peleus’ (in 1.1) and the adjective δῖος, dios, ‘godlike, shining, noble’ (in 1.7). Next, we encounter his famous epithet, πόδας ὠκὺς, podas ōkus, ‘swift-footed’ in 1.58. But as for specific, physical features? We hear that Achilles’ eyes ‘flashed terribly’ in 19.16-17 (and possibly 1.200?), or ‘gleamed like fire’ in 19.365-67 — likely indicating strong emotion. Otherwise? We have two quick descriptions of Achilles’ hair that use the ‘color’ adjective xanthos: in Iliad 1.197, as the enraged Achilles draws his sword to strike Agamemenon, Athena (invisible to all but Achilles) intervenes by tugging on Achilles’ ‘xanthos hair’ (ξανθῆς…κόμης, xanthēs kōmēs). Then, in Iliad 23.141, Achilles cuts a lock from his ‘flowing xanthos hair’ (χανθὴν… χαίτην, xanthēn khaitēn) to place on Patroclus’s funeral pyre.
What does xanthos mean? Achilles’ xanthēs komēs is often translated as ‘blond hair’ — which some consider ‘proof’ that Achilles was ‘white.’ But aside from the fact that blond hair is not unique to ‘white’ people, the adjective “[x]anthos could be used for things that we would call ‘brown’, ‘ruddy’, ‘yellow’, or ‘golden’”, suggesting “hair in the ‘brown-to-fair’ range” (Whitmarsh 2018; Sassi 2017). Thus, Achilles’ ‘chestnut hair’ in Wilson 2023 is also a correct translation of xanthēs komēs. Similarly, Odyssey commentators suggest that Odysseus’s xanthos hair in 13.399 (ξανθὰς…τρίχας, xanthās…trixas) is ‘gray and grizzled’ hair (Whitmarsh 2018). Translating xanthos as ‘blond,’ then, is a choice, one of many possibilities. If so, why have so many translators chosen to make Achilles ‘blond’? “The persistence of the translation ‘blonde’ may be a relic of a time when classical scholars insisted (wrongly) that the ancient Greeks had been conquered by northern Europeans in the (still unproven) ‘Dorian invasion’, a debunked theory that many white supremacists cite in their appropriations of ancient Greece” (Pharos 2018).
Hence, we cannot say for sure whether ‘Homer’ intended Achilles’ hair to be blond, auburn, light brown, or brown. (We will rule out ‘gray-grizzled’ because he is young). But to further complicate matters, xanthos may also function metaphorically. Because it is etymologically related to the noun xouthos, “a rapid, vibrating movement”, scholars posit that Achilles’ hair may also be xanthos because he was famously ‘swift-footed’ and impetuous (Whitmarsh 2018). (Yes, such word-play is entirely possible in ‘Homer’). Notably, too, another translation for xanthos is: ‘shimmering’. Perhaps Achilles’ hair, whatever its specific color, also ‘shimmers’ in a way that reflects his speed, his emotional volatility, and/or his semi-divine nature?
But there is more! Because xanthos also means ‘blazing’ (like fire), the ancient scholar Aristonicus (ca. 1st c. BCE – 1st c. CE) claimed that it does not describe hair color at all, but Achilles’ ‘blazing’ anger (Pharos 2018) — the Iliad’s central theme. (Iliad‘s first word is mēnin, ‘wrath’: the ‘wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus’). Notably, too, Achilles’ hair is first called xanthos as his anger towards Agamemnon reaches its peak (1.197). The second/final time is when Achilles places a lock of his xanthos hair in the hands of Patroclus (whose body is placed on a funeral pyre, 23.141). Because Achilles knows he will die if he avenges Patroclus (by killing Hektor), this gesture: 1) acknowledges/grieves how Achilles’ initial anger towards Agamemnon led to Patroclus’s death; 2) reflects how Achilles considers his fate to be intertwined with that of Patroclus; and 3) marks Patroclus as the (literal) fiery catalyst for transforming the ‘blazing’ Achilles’ initial anger into a godlike wrath (mēnis) aimed straight at Hektor.
To be clear: xanthos can indeed describe a fair, blond, or even reddish shade of hair. For example, many scholars reasonably suspect that Menelaus’s xanthos hair is fair or reddish-blond. But Menelaus’s hair is called xanthos 27 times, suggesting its color might be a definining characteristic (for ‘Homer’, at least — though, true to epic form, little else is said about his specific appearance). Achilles’ hair, on the other hand, is called xanthos twice — “two words in a 16,000 line poem is not much evidence for the appearance of its hero” (Pharos 2018). Further, as we noted above, both instances appear at significant narrative points in the Iliad. Xanthos’s metaphoric potential does seem to motivate its application to Achilles’ hair.
In sum, an ancient Greek audience could have imagined Achilles’ xanthos hair to be either: blond, ruddy/auburn, light-brown, brown, blazing (because of anger), swift-moving, impetuous, shimmering, shiny, (possibly) glittery, vibrant, or some combination of these possibilities. The adjective xanthos neither requires Achilles to be ‘blond’ nor proves him to be ‘white.’ (Back)
Part 4: Why it is misguided to argue that a ‘black’ Achilles or Helen is historically inaccurate
Setting aside for now the fact that epic is historical fiction: when it comes to the question of ‘historical accuracy,’ we know that ancient Greece and Rome were not ‘white’, northern/western European cultures, but Mediterranean cultures with diverse populations. Even after the Roman empire spread into western and northern Europe, people regularly travelled and settled everywhere within its boundaries. As for the eras and locales most relevant to Homeric epic (bronze age/dark age Greece and its environs), Mycenaean Greeks were not ‘white Europeans’, either, and interacted with other Mediterranean and Mediterranean-adjacent cultures personally, diplomatically, and economically. (See again this site’s post and pdf presentations for “Were the Ancient Greeks and Romans ‘White’?”). The Greek epic tradition even included the presence of what we could consider ‘non-white’ warriors or nations at Troy. Most famously, there is the Trojan ally Memnon (son of Eos, goddess of the dawn), an Ethiopian prince who led a contingent of Ethiopians and was considered Achilles’ equal in martial prowess. But many other Trojan allies were regional, i.e., bronze age Anatolians — who, ‘historically’ speaking, were not ‘white’ Europeans either, and could readily have had Hittite, Mesopotamian, Levantine, or even North African heritage. If there was a Trojan war, nothing rules out the possibility of Mycenaeans, Trojans, or Anatolians with darker skin. Otherwise, for bronze age Greeks, generally: “Greek warriors in Homer probably did not look much like David Gyasi (Achilles in the BBC show), but nor did they look like Brad Pitt (Achilles in the Hollywood movie Troy)” (Whitmarsh 2018).
Yet also, in the same way that it would be historically ‘wrong’ to portray Achilles with an iPhone, you can also handle the epic tradition in a way that is inconsistent with, or that ‘violates’, its historical practice. And given how much those objecting to a ‘black’ Helen or Achilles claim to value ‘historical authenticity’, it does seem strange that they are not further outraged by the historically ‘inauthentic’ act of making a tv or film version of Homer’s Iliad or Odyssey in the first place! ‘Homer’s’ narratives were sung to an audience that imagined the events they described. Similarly, it is a feature of the oral tradition, not a bug, to leave its characters’ appearances to its audience’s imaginations. Modern television and film sweep aside these core Homeric attributes. To be sure, Athenian tragedy was also a visual medium that represented Homeric characters, but its actors wore stylized masks and its audience understood that each play was tailored to please them (and win a competition); no tragic performance was considered its myth’s ‘final word.’ But here lies another potentially ‘unhistorical’ aspect to modern ‘Homer’ adaptations: whereas ancient Greeks understood that myths were fluid, in today’s less mythologically-informed, more visually-oriented culture, television and film do have the potential to implicitly ‘canonize’ a popular visual narrative. Perhaps a contributing factor to the (racist) outrage over Lupita Nyong’o playing Helen is the possibility that some viewers might accept her version of the character as an authoritative one?
To be sure, trying to remain ‘faithful’ to historical epic practice when creating a tv or film version of ‘Homer’ invariably leads to internal contradictions: having your own vision of an epic character or event in your mind’s eye is pretty ‘Homeric’, but translating it into a tv or film narrative, is less so — though, at the same time, all ‘versions’ of ‘Homer’ legitimately reflect the oral tradition’s innate flexibility (see above). This is what happens when ancient ‘oral’ and modern ‘visual’ cultures collide. But if you express indignation about ‘black’ actors playing Helen or Achilles (or a trans actor playing Sinon) because you claim to care about ‘historical authenticity’ — all the while disregarding both the verifiable, historical fact that epic encourages each audience member to imagine their own Helen, Achilles, or Sinon, and the massive ripple-effect of ‘inauthentic’ creative decisions necessarily generated by translating ‘Homer’ into a visual format for a modern audience? You sound bigoted.
Finally, a few questions for those invoking ‘historical accuracy’ as they insist that ‘black’ actors should not represent Homeric characters: ‘Homer’ and the Greek mythological tradition report that Achilles was the son of the sea-goddess Thetis and that Helen was the daughter of Zeus. What nationality or ethnicity does that make them? Should only demi-gods be cast to play them in tv or film? In fact, Helen was born from an egg because Zeus turned himself into a swan to impregnate her mother, Leda. What does a semi-divine, part-swan, stunningly gorgeous woman born from an egg look like and, for historical accuracy’s sake, where should we look first to find an actor who best reflects these origins? We also hear that gods were both physically present on the Trojan battlefield and overseeing events from Olympus. What do gods — who, according to Greek thought, could not be seen by mortals in their true form because it would kill the mortal — look like? (Incidentally: Sophocles has Zeus appear to mortals as a ‘black/Ethiopian’ man in his play Inachus). Do we need to find other gods to represent ‘Homer’s’ gods ‘accurately’ on tv? How might we best cast Achilles’ immortal, talking horse, or the Odyssey‘s monsters Cyclops, Scylla, and Charbydis? And why do you complain about casting David Gyasi (Achilles in Troy: Fall of a City) and Lupita Nyong’o (Helen in Nolan’s The Odyssey), but not Diane Kruger (Helen, in Troy), or Peter O’Toole (Priam, in Troy), or Brad Pitt (Achilles in Troy), or even Brian Cox’s admittedly glorious Agamemnon (in Troy)? What about The Odyssey’s Matt Damon, Anne Hathaway, Tom Holland, Charlize Theron, or Robert Pattinson? These actors are not Greek, either* — and are even descended from pale-skinned northern tribes that Greeks considered completely barbaric. Similarly, their distant ancestors were less likely to be at (or near) Troy than David Gyasi’s or Lupita Nyong’o’s ancestors. But, of course, we understand why some people only object to The Odyssey‘s ‘black’ or trans actors: they are using the pretext of ‘historical accuracy’ as cover for bigotry.
*For a Greek critic’s response to The Odyssey, see Cotonou 2026, who embraces Nolan’s diverse casting. His sole complaint? If Nolan’s goal was to recognize the Odyssey as a grand story with a broad legacy — if, as Lupita Nyong’o herself notes “Our cast is representative of the world” — then where are the Greek actors? Even one Greek actor in a minor role would do: “For Greeks, the omission takes on another meaning: the ancient Hellenic stories are viewed as part of a shared western inheritance — a world literature — while the Greeks are somehow incidental to them. At worst, it suggests modern Greeks (particularly after decades of economic crisis) are no longer viewed as worthy custodians of these stories — a sentiment not unlike the logic used against returning the Parthenon marbles”. Though Cotonou looks forward to watching Nolan’s admirably inclusive film, he does consider the absence of any Greek actors (or actors with Greek heritage) to be pretty glaring. (Back)
Part 5: Conclusion
The perceived need to protect ‘Homer’ from the allegedly wanton, ‘unhistorical’ casting of dark-skinned actors is, quite frankly, silly. The epic tradition, which happens to have originated in a diverse context, deliberately left character appearance to its audiences’ imaginations. Similarly, ancient Greek poets regularly adapted their narratives to suit their performative needs. Indeed, the epic tradition is riddled with anachronism and pure fabrication. It is specious (and unhistorical!) to insist that modern creators meet a standard of ‘historical accuracy’ that epic bards never met themselves. All of which is to say that: on top of the fact that there could well have been ‘black’ Mycenaeans, and that historical Mycenaeans were likely darker-skinned than many today might think, imagining Lupita Nyong’o as ‘Helen’ is also historically appropriate to epic practice. Should anyone dislike Nolan’s version of Helen, it is a matter of personal preference, not proof of cultural collapse. Indeed, Homeric poetry is hardly fragile or endangered. As the lengthy history of artistic responses to the Iliad and Odyssey attests: ‘Homer’ can survive different creative choices. Anyone vigorously appealing to ‘history’ as the reason why directors should not cast ‘black’ (or even trans) actors to play Homeric characters is merely trying to legitimize their bigotry.
Ultimately, it is very much in keeping with epic practice for Netflix and Christopher Nolan to adapt Homeric characters and narratives as they see fit. To maintain ‘allegiance’ to the epic tradition — assuming that is your aim — you need only ensure that each character’s traditional fate or storyline remains somewhat intact (though you might also be surprised at how many different ‘traditional’ fates are reported for some characters). It is also true, however, that the act of translating ‘Homer’ to modern visual media undermines the epic tradition’s strategies for avoiding detailed character descriptions or the ‘canonization’ of narrative specifics. Even so, we each have the power to combat any possible ‘damage’ caused by these non-traditional phenomena: 1) we can choose to recognize that each tv or film version of ‘Homer’ is just that: one version; 2) we can choose not to watch any tv or film version of ‘Homer’ we do not wish to watch; 3) we can choose not to worry that others might like a tv or film version of ‘Homer’ that we personally dislike; or 4) as befits the ‘oral’ tradition, we can create more visual adaptations of Homeric texts to honor the imaginations of their many admirers. (Back)
Bibliography:
Cotonou, C. June 3, 2026. “What the Hellenic! Why is Christopher Nolan’s new Greek epic entirely devoid of Greeks?” The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2026/jun/03/christopher-nolan-no-greek-actors-the-odyssey-matt-damon-zendaya-charlize-theron
Edmunds, L. 2019. Toward the Characterization of Helen in Homer. Appellatives, Periphrastic Denominations, and Noun-Epithet Formulas. Trends in Classics. Supplementary Volumes Bd. 87. Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter.
Lee, B. May 21, 2026. “Lupita Nyong’o responds to rightwing criticism of The Odyssey: ‘Our cast is representative of the world.’” The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2026/may/21/lupita-nyongo-responds-rightwing-odyssey-criticism
Pharos: Doing Justice to the Classics. May 18, 2018. “Scholars respond to racist backlash against black Achilles, part 2: What did Achilles look like?” Pharos.vassarspaces.net. https://pharos.vassarspaces.net/2018/05/18/scholars-respond-to-racist-backlash-against-black-achilles-part-2-what-did-achilles-look-like/
Sassi, M. July 31, 2017. “Can we hope to understand how the Greeks saw their world?” Aeon.co. https://aeon.co/essays/can-we-hope-to-understand-how-the-greeks-saw-their-world
Sententiae Antiquae. May 11, 2018. “What does Helen look like?”. Sententiae Antiquae.com. https://sententiaeantiquae.com/2018/05/11/what-does-helen-look-like/
Smith, A. February 18, 2014. “Were the Ancient Greeks and Romans Colourblind?” www.abc.net.au https://www.abc.net.au/listen/radionational/archived/bodysphere/features/5267698
Whitmarsh, T. May 9, 2018. “Black Achilles: When Homer Envisioned Achilles Did He See a Black Man?” Aeon.co https://aeon.co/essays/when-homer-envisioned-achilles-did-he-see-a-black-man
Wilson, E. 2023. The Iliad. W. W. Norton & Company.
For more information, see also:
Grow, K. June 11, 2026. “How Ludwig Goransson Found Ancient Greek Instruments for The Odyssey“. RollingStone.com https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-news/the-odyssey-ludwig-goransson-score-1235575534/
