BODIES ON THE ROCKS

A Gender Archaeological Approach to the Bronze Age Rock Art of

Bohuslän, Sweden

University of Helsinki
Department of Philosophy, History, Culture and Art Studies
Archaeology
Bachelor’s thesis
6.5.2016
Riina Hämäläinen
Table of Content

1. Introduction...........................................................................................................................1

2. Background ...........................................................................................................................2
2.1 Rock art in Bohuslän, Sweden .......................................................................................3
2.2 Gender archaeology and rock art in Scandinavia .........................................................6
2.3 Alternative archaeological evidence on Bronze Age gender structure .......................7

3. Theoretical framework for gender archaeology .............................................................. 10

3.1 On gender, sex and sexuality ...................................................................................... 11
3.2 Feminist theories .......................................................................................................... 12
3.3 Queer theory ................................................................................................................. 14
3.4 Theory of multiple masculinities ................................................................................ 15

4. Gender in Bohuslän rock art ............................................................................................. 16

4.1 Problems concerning identification ............................................................................ 16
4.2 Identifying men ............................................................................................................ 19
4.3 Identifying women ....................................................................................................... 21
4.4 Sexual couplings .......................................................................................................... 24

5. Ambiguous bodies ............................................................................................................. 28

5.1 Shifting genders ........................................................................................................... 29
5.2 Beyond the gender binary ........................................................................................... 31

6. Concluding remarks .......................................................................................................... 32

Bibliography
Picture references
1. Introduction

The human depictions in the Bronze Age petroglyphs of Bohuslän, Sweden, form the topic of this
bachelor’s thesis. Sorting through various literary sources, using a theory-oriented gender archaeological
approach, I first intend to discover how gender manifests in the carvings by gaining an understanding of
both gender and the body as cultural phenomena; secondly, I aim to discern how sexuality is portrayed
in the carvings; and thirdly, I aspire to expand understandings of the two common gender categories
traditionally thought to be represented in the carvings while also seeking other possible gender
manifestations in the context of Bohuslän petroglyphs. Through introducing new ways the carvings could
and should be approached and interpreted, I hope to demonstrate that it is important to examine rock art
from a point-of-view that incorporates gender, because in including multiple possibilities, interpretative
horizons are broadened, and the normative and stereotypical views of past societies, often taken for
granted in interpretations, are made explicit.
The Bohuslän carvings and the images depicted therein have inspired plenty of research over the
years, but overall, the attention to gender is where the research has been found wanting. The gender
perspective has largely gone unnoticed, even though recently effort has been made to involve it (e.g.
Yates 1993; Skogstrand 2006; Varberg 2013). Sadly, most of the research done in Europe, in languages
other than English, remains beyond the reach of a global audience, which is a real shame as the findings
presented, however astute, are not paid sufficient attention internationally. In the publications available
to all, for the most part, and for a long time, the interpretations concerning the Bohuslän petroglyphs
have been conservative and androcentric: male warriors took the centre stage while women were reduced
to passive secondary roles that were only deemed significant in relation to the accompanying men.
Feminist informed archaeology has seen the potential in rock art from the very first as a resource
to be used in order to make women visible and included in the interpretations of the past. While some
interpretations made about rock art, and especially about gender roles, project present gender stereotypes
into the past (Hays-Gilpin 2004: xi), there now exists a variety of known research from all over the world,
from North-America (Hays-Gilpin 2000), Australia (McDonald 2012), Norway (Mandt 2001), Thailand
(Schoocongdej 2002) and Italy (Bevan 2001) to name but a few, that are more informed of the possible
gender systems that can exist in any given culture. As an umbrella term that embraces all the ways gender
and all imaginable gender manifestations can be studied archaeologically, gender archaeology has no
single all-encompassing theory, but a myriad collage that is as varied as the subject it aims to study. In
this paper, the applied theories are feminist and queer theory, as well as the theory of multiple

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masculinities, which have all been used successfully in gender archaeological research in the past. All of
them are also essential, considering the nature of the carvings in Bohuslän and the writing done on them,
so it would be ill-advised to dismiss one in favour of another.
In light of all that remains to be explored in the field of rock art research, it seems like an
opportune time to re-examine the Bohuslän images from an inclusive gender perspective. This topic is
current and socially relevant, because gender is, in one way or another, a part of all people. It is present
in all societies, both past and modern, which is why this topic is also of interest to the general public.
Unfortunately, the narratives of gender prehistory are, as of yet, in some cases conservatively
androcentric, due in part to a lack of sound archaeological information on gender that could refine general
knowledge (Scott 1997: 11), and so, incorporating a gender perspective could have an enriching effect
within the bounds of academia, but also outside of it. Furthermore, by acknowledging the existence of
minorities and multiple genders, interpretations can more effectively portray the complexity of past
societies (Baker 1997: 183). Applying a gender perspective also exposes gender bias and the magnitude
of distortions the projection of present stereotypes into the past can cause. Kelley Hays-Gilpin (2004: 4)
says, that to truly know the past one should ask questions and not make guesses about the past that are
not based on scientific knowledge, meaning that one should not assume the situation to be similar to what
we have in our own Western culture today. Lastly, as Sarah Milledge Nelson (2006: 18) declares, the
evidence provided by gender archaeology can go a long way in offering role-models for girls and women
besides that of a wife and mother. Furthermore, gender archaeology can show that even women in the
past could hold important positions in society and achieve equality (Spencer-Wood 2011: 13). As the
results gained can end the perpetuation of stereotypes by presenting conclusions that can be used by the
general public, gender archaeology can both promote self-confidence and pride for women and other
genders, and create understanding for difference (Brumfiel 2006: 32).

2. Background

In this opening chapter, my intention is to give some necessary background information concerning both
the site and the petroglyphs themselves. It is impossible to invest myself in an in-depth discussion of the
various research done on the Bohuslän petroglyphs, not to mention the relatively long tradition of gender
archaeology in Scandinavia, as only cursory reviews fall within the scope of this bachelor’s thesis.
Nonetheless, I will attempt to elucidate, in rather concise terms, the history of gender archaeology in
Scandinavia, especially pertaining to rock art, and give an account of the relationship between rock art
and gender, also briefly referring to the gender inclusive ways in which the Bohuslän petroglyphs have

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been approached and interpreted in the past. As the importance of context cannot be stressed sufficiently,
it is also imperative to discuss the Bronze Age in Scandinavia and the prevalent gender structure during
that time. I will adduce the social conditions by drawing evidence from burials and other archaeological
material, and present criticism of some common misassumptions. Before I begin, it is also prudent to
establish terminology for the sake of clarity. Henceforth, when I talk about males and females, I refer to
an individual’s anatomical difference. Respectively, when talking about men and women, I’m discussing
the gender identity of the individual. The essential concepts of sex and gender and the difference between
them will be discussed at length in chapter 3.

2.1 Rock art in Bohuslän, Sweden

Southern Scandinavia is a place renowned for its prehistoric rock carvings and no wonder, for within the
two major hotspots of Bohuslän and Østfold (fig. 1), up to 2700 rock art sites can be found, which is the
largest known concentration in Northern Europe. Even though an exact chronological scale for these
carvings remains unattainable, it is generally agreed that the most vivid and complex of them were made
in the Bronze Age, commonly established to span the timeline of 1700–500 BCE. According to a more
accurate estimation, they were likely carved during the late period and within a relatively short time
frame. (Vogt 2014: 1–3.)

Figure 1. Map of South Scandinavia with

Østfold in Norway and Bohuslän in Sweden.
(Vogt 2014: Fig. 3.1, 27.)

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 Even though the carvings are now found circa 10 kilometres inland, they used to be situated on
the coast in the near vicinity of the sea. It comes as no surprise, then, that apart from the cupmarks, the
dominant and the most common motif is the ship. (Ling 2008: 5.) However, as Tim Yates (1993: 32) has
stated, human figures in Bohuslän are by no means lacking in number; indeed they are the second most
common representation, and also the most numerous in proportion to any other prehistoric rock art site
in northern Europe. (ibid.) Excluding the disembodied hands and feet and the crews on the ships, the
human depictions have been roughly divided into 5 major groups: warriors, bridal pairs, worshipful
figures termed adorants, people performing acrobatics known as voltigeurs, and women (Fuglestvedt
1999: 25). Joakim Goldhahn and Johan Ling (2013: 273) also identify lur-blowers and bodies with
anomalies, such as wings and enlarged hands and feet. Additional categories could consist of archers,
spearmen, horsemen, dancers, ship carriers and processions, but none of the categories should be seen as
rigid, because most figures clearly overlap in terms of different attributes. (Fig. 2)

Figure 2: Human figures: a) adorants (Fredell 2003: fig 5.7, 183 [after Bengtsson 1998]) ; b) helmeted warrior
(Fuglestvedt 1999: fig 1.8b.3, 36 [after Coles 1993: fig 33]); c) lur blowers (Högberg 2013); d) bridal couple
(Hays-Gilpin 2004: fig 2.7, 23 [after Coles 1995: fig. 10.3e]); e) shield bearing warrior (Fuglestvedt 1999: fig
1.6.2, 33 [after Coles 1993: fig 24]); f) figure with beak and wings (drawn from Coles 2005, fig 63, 46); g)
voltigeur (Lindgren 1999: fig 2.1, 42 [after Coles 1990]); h) woman (Lindgren 1999: fig 2.3c, 44 [redrawn after
Coles 1990]); i) sexless (detail from Coles 2003: fig 17, 234); j) disc bodies (left: Fuglestvedt 1999: fig 1.8b.4, 36
[after Coles 1999: 41]; centre and right: detail from Högberg 2013)

The representations of the human body are varied and imaginative, but by far the most common
body to be seen is unsexed and rather simple in shape. Structurally the human figures are line-drawn; the
primary line represents the body and secondary lines form the head, arms and legs, which may not all be

4
attached. The head is usually nothing but a cupmark, though sometimes it resembles a beak, (fig. 2f)
which could indicate a mask. Tertiary lines forming hands and feet, male sexual organs, with or without
testes, and weapons or other adornments, such as headdresses or helmets, have sometimes been added to
complement the basic form. Some bodies appear to be adorned with robes; others, seemingly nude, are
either elongated and cracile with slender limbs, or more robust in shape. (Coles 2005: 31, 33.) Some of
the human figures also appear to carry shields, the shield being situated in the centre of the figure in place
of the midriff. Yates (1993:38), however, is of a mind to disregard them as shields, at least most of the
time, and treats them as morphological traits. These so called disc bodies (fig. 2j) have also been
interpreted as being pregnant females, or perhaps men, whose ability to conceive and give birth to ideas
is being portrayed (Fuglestvedt 1999).
As sexual indicators are few, rather than focusing on the obvious anatomical differences that, in
reality, most figures lack, gender has been inferred from activities and artefacts. Insofar as the sexing of
fragmented skeletal matter can be considered trustworthy, the strong association between depictions in
rock art of weapon wielding males in warlike situations and archaeological burial data, consisting of
male skeletons interred with weaponry, should not be overlooked (Hays-Gilpin 2012b: 206). However,
the fact remains that this association is also due to androcentric ideas about masculine warriorhood, which
presupposes that males are the only ones who can bear arms. As a result of this, most sexless figures
have been assumed to be de facto males even without the added genitalia, the weapons or other more
vague “masculine traits” therefore functioning as symbols of the male sexual organ. It also goes without
saying that these warrior figures have always held the better part of scholarly interest. The unimpressive,
less fascinating figures, that incidentally contain the small percentage thought to be women, have often
been left out of the main research. The importance of men has thus been on the forefront of the
interpretations, and women have remained in the background, their presence acknowledged but never
emphasized, at least in the case of Bohuslän, where indisputable female images are next to impossible to
come by. So, even though women have been present in the interpretations from the very beginning, and
their presence in the carvings is in no way denied, the approach has still been undeniably androcentric,
if only for the reason that the probable representations of women have not been considered interesting
enough to study. Taking into account the maritime content of the Bohuslän images, one could also
suggest that the interpretations that stress the importance of males stem partly from the fact that all things
maritime have been gendered masculine by western culture, while women are only seen as anomalies
partaking in this fundamentally male sphere (Ransley 2005). But even if some of the scenes represent
recordings of maritime initiation, as has been posited by Ling (2012), it does not mean that the rituals
were necessarily gender exclusive by default, as women are physically able to perform seafaring tasks.
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2.2 Gender archaeology and rock art in Scandinavia

Gender archaeology, as an archaeological sub-discipline that studies gender variety and different gender
systems in the past, has its origins in the in the 1960’s women’s movement, whose tireless efforts made
this novel and, in those times, quite radical approach possible (Nelson 2002: 4–5). While in the United
States a gender oriented approach struggled to take hold, in Scandinavia, the first gender archaeological
pursuits began as early as the 1970s’ through the actions of a few early pioneers in a male-dominated
field. Early aims were traditional and concerned with making underrepresented women visible and their
contribution to culture count. This was achieved mainly by establishing female roles in specific cases,
mostly in the context of Bronze and Iron Age societies, but new research fields were gradually included,
and rock art became such a one from a very early stage. So, from a historical perspective, rock art has
always been an important theme in gender archaeology, even though the early interpretations often were
exercises in banality (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 11), in their naive concerns with identifying female deities and
symbols believed to have been associated with fertility cults. (Whitehouse 2006: 733–735, 761–762.)
With time, as the focus moved, more nuanced questions took precedence. Simplistic and universalising
female roles were no longer enough, and ultimately generalisations gave way to differences (Nelson
2006: 2–27).
Presently, the use of patriarchal stereotypes has, for the most part, lessened, at least within the
field of gender archaeology. The fact, however, remains that, in general, gender theories remain a widely
untapped resource as most of the progress is made only by women archaeologists (Nelson 2006: 17).
Additionally, notwithstanding the fact that the field shows some vitality in Sweden (Dommasnes &
Montón-Subías 2012: 371), interest in gender seems to have dwindled after the 1970’s pioneering work
and the golden years in the mid 1980’s, as currently North American gender archaeological publications
have trumped over those from Scandinavia (Dommasnes 2014; Alberti & Danielsson 2014). This
development is somewhat surprising, especially when taking into consideration the fact that in the USA,
gender has been considered a lamentable research subject for professional archaeologists and rock art
only slightly less so, as both have a stigma of being “girlie” interests. This has led to them being regarded
sceptically as dubious subfields hardly worth notice for the mainstream archaeology more concerned
with hard science, with gender archaeology being seen only as a passing fad, while the role of rock art in
the grand scheme of archaeological interest was thought to be minimal, as attested by Thomas Dowson
(2001: 314), who humorously names it ‘the archaeology that dares not speak its name’. But, while gender
archaeology and rock art studies inevitably remain two of the most marginal research topics available in
archaeology, their situation has changed for the better, at least in relation to one another, as more and
6
more scholars admit that studying rock art can help us understand gender in the past, and consequently,
understanding gender can help us to interpret rock art better. (Hays-Gilpin 2004 1, 3–4, 209–210.) The
connection between the two has also been commented by Gro Mandt (2001: 292), who proposed that,
should one seek to find evidence of past gender relations, rock art in lieu of other material culture would
be the place to find it.
Even though the imagery is occasionally challenging to interpret, the study of gender through
rock art is fortunately not as clear-cut as trying to identify depictions of breasts, varying genitalia or
different distributions of body fat or muscle, because there are many ways to depict sex, and where
anatomy fails, one can turn to observable gender markers that are culturally constructed, context specific
and complex in their involvement of hair, clothing, items, activities, and even geometric signs and
symbols (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 11, 15, 17–18). While in this regard, the situation in Bohuslän seems
promising with all of the aforementioned foci accounted for, the petroglyphs have not seen considerable
interest on the gender front, in spite of inspiring countless amounts of other research over the years
(Bertilsson 2015; Goldhahn 2008). This can be understood in relation to the understanding of Bronze
Age culture as the domain of men, where male values held supremacy (Mandt 2001: 291). However, a
few relatively recent cases are of special note.
In his study ‘Frameworks for an archaeology of the body’, Tim Yates (1993) researched the
representations of the Bohuslän human figures to outline the ways in which the human body and its
sexual identity are represented. In classifying the human figures into four categories based on either the
absence or presence of weapons and/or sheaths, and cross-referencing them to the presence of features,
such as erect phalli, emphasized calf muscles, long hair and the proximity of cupmarks, he found out that
phallic figures appear armed and helmeted with exaggerated calf muscles more frequently, leading him
to think that the carvings are representations of warrior men and youths in the context of male initiation,
an interpretation which has seen him criticised for excluding women. This critique stands at the apex of
complaints voiced against researchers’ inability to see women in depictions that lack explicit sex
differentiation, as voiced by Janet Levy (1999: 70). Incidentally, she has argued that the Bohuslän figures
represent at least two kinds of people, gender being one distinguishing feature, and that most of the non-
phallic figures are in fact women (ibid 66).

2.3 Alternative archaeological evidence on Bronze Age gender structure

Lynne Bevan (2001: 85) has quite insightfully stated that “Gender inequality is assumed to be the central
principle in social organization and it is equally assumed that the prime role of the rock art is to express
7
that inequality.” Same can be said of the petroglyphs in Bohuslän, as for example Yates (1993: 41) has
postulated that the society which created the petroglyphs was one dominated by idealistic notions of
aggressive masculinity, as attested by the carvings themselves, therefore implying that males also held a
dominant position in society. Such claims, however, can be countermanded by arguing that the reason
the majority of the human figures have been ascribed maleness, derives in part from the conviction that
women held little importance in male dominated Scandinavian Bronze Age societies (Victor 1999: 83–
84), which is a view that can be subjected to heavy criticism.
In addition to rock art, the information on gender comes from mainly two sources: inhumation
and cremation burials, as well as artefacts from graves and hoards (Levy 1999: 64–65). Research into
these deposits has given rise to the thought that the Bronze Age was a time of change from tribal societies
to chiefdoms, from individuals to group categories, which brought about roles and identities that also
often implicated gender (Sørensen 2013b). According to a universal assumption drawn from differences
in grave goods (Ling 2008: 7–8), the Scandinavian Bronze age societies were hierarchically stratified
units ruled by elites, that in turn are thought to be made up of chiefs, warriors and priests (Victor 1999:
83–84). These three roles are the ones most often implicitly gendered in descriptions, even though the
origin of this thinking is hardly ever explicitly discussed. It is assumed that all of the warriors were men
and priests are accorded maleness similar to warriors, a few exceptions notwithstanding, even though
historical and ethnographic sources attest that women often perform the roles of ritual specialists.
(Sørensen 2013b.) Chiefs have fared little better, even though Bevan (2015: 30) states that there might
have been women among the chiefly elites, while Levy (1999: 74–75) seems certain of this saying that
both women and men held high-ranking positions, although men might have held them more often and
in some cases they may have ranked higher.
Differing opinions and suggestions of gender spheres overlapping (Lindeberg1997: 100) have not
met with universal approval, and a strict hierarchical dichotomy between high-status men and low-status
women is often taken as the prevailing form of social structure, which in turn has heavily influenced the
sexist notion that only men could become chiefs (Spencer-Wood 2011: 13). In the case of elite female
burials for example, it is not often thought that females themselves achieved a high rank. Instead, the
increase in status was only believed to have happened due to the high class of the husbands, or other
male kin to whom women would have been subordinate. (Whitehouse 2006: 741.) In more extreme cases,
richly equipped female graves have been subjected to the “honorary male” treatment, where women of
high rank are believed to have received male status, but as these burials contain no weapons, it is more
likely that the interred individuals were powerful women in their own right, rather than cultural men
(Gräslund 2001: 92). The conventional archaeological interpretation of Bronze Age Scandinavian gender
8
structure therefore consists of passive household-bound women on one end, whose only role in life was
to maintain and support the culture that they did not participate in, while the other end was reserved for
active, controlling, public, political and military men, who took part in all kinds of interesting activities
outside the lacklustre domestic sphere, where nothing noteworthy ever happened. (Victor 1999: 83–84.)
Interestingly, gender hierarchy is a concept, which is defined in terms of its opposition to gender
complementarity, meaning that the prevailing gender system is often understood as either unequal or
equal, with no in-between. This has been the case in Bronze Age Scandinavia, where men were thought
to be the only ones to hold rank high enough to exert power and authority over others. Blinded by this
belief, it is often difficult to imagine other ways power might have been accorded, but as attested by the
newer concept of gender heterarchy that is known to exist in middle-level chiefly societies, power
structures might have been multidimensional, flexible and prone to fluctuation depending on context,
rather than rigid and one-sided. Therefore, in a heterarchical gender system, it is possible that women
may have achieved considerable social power and held the highest authority in certain situations,
especially in leadership positions based on ritual power, which, according to Levy (2006), was closely
connected to political authority in Bronze Age Scandinavia. (ibid: 222–224; 2012: 63–74.) The concept
of heterarchy therefore allows for the incorporation of both genders into the power structures of the
Scandinavian Bronze Age, which also has key implications concerning rock art. While gender heterarchy
does not prove equality between men and women, according to a chart drawing from burial data
comparing male and female height in Bronze Age Denmark, striking similarities were remarked, which
suggests that equal childhood nutrition may have been available to both (Levy 1999: 65), indicating that
female children were no less valuable. Gender equality has also been inferred from cremations, which
emerged as the burial of choice in the later Bronze Age, resulting in both sexes being buried in a uniform
manner, with grave goods markedly reduced in number, sometimes to the point of nonexistence.
(Brumfiel 2006: 37–38).
Even though it has been acknowledged that the gender differentiation in burial rituals might not
reflect actual practise, the funerary record has generally functioned as a good source for studies on past
gender systems. However, as a result of binary sex classification that recognises only males and females,
some artefact categories have become imbued with either maleness or femaleness (Weglian 2001: 140,
144), which, in turn, can influence interpretations and blind researchers from seeing anomalous
arrangements. It is a fact that burials with weapons have been, more often than not, accepted as belonging
to males without proper osteological work, whereas possible female weapon burials tend to be
overlooked, explained away or treated with undue scepticism, even in cases where osteology is utilized
(Thorpe 2013: 237). Razors are another good example of an item usually associated with males (see for
9
example Treherne 1995), that in the context of Scandinavian Bronze Age cremations have also been
shown to be buried with females (Thedéen 2003: 108). This association might have gone unnoticed, if
traditional views had been held. The association of grave goods with specific sexes might represent the
ideal situation in any given culture, in the same way activities associated with gender in representational
art might, but it does not mean that the representations hold truth with the real historical situation
(Brumfiel 2006: 42). In actuality it is the anomalous burials that tell more about the gender system in
place (Weglian 2001: 137), as they may reveal additional genders as well as individuals, who appear
non-gendered (Nelson & Rosen-Ayalon 2002: 6).
Even though it is important to remember that atypical burials with ambiguous gender attributions
can occur without institutionalized non-binary genders, it has been suggested that, during the European
Bronze and Iron age, some societies might have acknowledged more than two genders (Hollimon 2006:
438–439). Furthermore, the study of European Bronze Age clothing tells us that the gender system
seemed to allow for the existence of alternative gender identities, or at least sufficient variation, as
postulated by Sørensen (2013b: 227). Burials with weapons also pose some interesting discrepancies
with regards to the possibility of alternative gender roles, because some cremated bones from weapon
graves have been identified belonging to females. Although some researchers, Henrik Thrane (2013:
756) for example, seem to doubt these results, it may be that, even if those who bore weapons were for
the most part male, more females than we know might have been buried with weapons. It is also possible
that these individuals took up arms, assumed a role usually linked to men, and participated significantly
in warfare as combatants, or in less violent but still antagonistic roles as supporters. Even though there
are no known cases where women instead of men are the only warriors, and even if the inclusion of
weapons in graves does not necessarily infer warriorhood, there is plenty of evidence of women taking
part in conflicts. Hence, there is no reason to assume that warfare in Scandinavian Bronze Age was the
province of men and men only. (Osgood 1998: 84.)

3. Theoretical framework for gender archaeology

The ways in which gender can be studied are numerous, and no established rules or methods exist, apart
from the inclusion of techniques for meticulous and systematic recording and analysis, in addition to
cautious use of analogy, ethnography and historical records. In archaeology, the lack of direct historical
links and appropriate ethnographic analogies is all too common an occurrence; interpretation therein lies
on multiple strands of archaeological evidence all pointing in the same direction; the depictions of sexed
and gendered bodies constitute an important part of this whole (Brumfiel 2006: 42). But even though

10
methods are not set in stone, there is no denying that theoretical frameworks are essential to any scientific
study. Gender theories, in particular, compel us to pay attention to prior assumptions and expectations,
which are to be subjected to critical examination. (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 7-10.) In this section, I aim to
introduce theories that are widely recognised as the most useful and applicable in providing a
comprehensive take on gender in past contexts, but first, as it has become customary to distinguish
between gender, sex and sexuality, it is necessary to define some key concepts, and more importantly, to
clarify what is meant by these terms, as they can be used and understood in different ways. This has not
always been a priority, and the words male, man, female and woman are often used interchangeably and
thoughtlessly, which creates unnecessary confusion. In light of this, it is worthwhile to devote a few
words to explain their meaning.

3.1 On gender, sex and sexuality

Gender as a concept is an analytical tool that has its origins in grammaticism, and it was only a term used
to categorize nouns in many Indo-European languages, before it was adopted by feminism as a way to
distinguish social dimensions and cultural aspects from biological sex. Sex, as opposed to gender, is
usually thought of in terms of the male-female binary as the natural reality of the body that remains
unchanging and forever fixed. In other words, gender pertains to culture, sex to biology and so the two
concepts have been understood, ever since their deliberate separation. (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 6.) Sexuality
has not been widely addressed in archaeology until recently, because of essentialist views that look upon
sexuality not as a historical and cultural phenomenon, but as a constant. Even though sexuality relates
closely to sex and gender, it likewise remains distinct from both and is not a mere derivate, as for example
androphile men need not be effeminate. (Voss 2006: 375; Voss 2000; Voss & Schmidt 2000: 2.)
The concept of gender is essential for many reasons, the foremost of which is the understanding
that the current idea of sex is unable to sufficiently describe variation, whereas gender does not exclude
the possibility of there being more than two categories, nor does it state that the categories are to be fixed
and unchanging (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 41). Even though gender should not be rooted in biology as
categories can be based on differences beyond the sexual and anatomical (Sørensen 2013a: 72), it is
characteristic of our own culture to view sex as the denominator for gender. This, however, creates a
premise, where the binary division of sex and the differences in reproductive anatomy are misguidedly
taken as the starting point for social development that is supposed to culminate in two specific categories
that, in turn, are supposed to consist of only two different kinds of people (Schrock & Schwalbe 2009:
279). Yet, the idea of two polar opposite sexes has not always been prevalent, and the differences between
11
bodies are not necessarily understood in the same way, as different cultures may have varying ideas about
what constitutes as sexual characteristics; respectively, bodily features other than sexual might have been
understood as essential to gender identity. Therefore, it can be questioned whether different concepts of
male and female existed at all. (Alberti 2006b.)
To be sure, many of the physical and psychological differences between the sexes that are
perceived as natural, are in fact cultural constructs selected by and magnified through gender ideology
(Voss & Schmidt 2000: 3). Additionally, sex itself, which is seen in terms of a strict binary consisting of
two discrete polar opposites, is in truth, even in biological terms, more a spectrum (Sørensen 2013a) with
significant overlap and up to eleven distinguishable genotypes, some of which can result in distinctive
phenotypic variation of physiology and secondary sexual characteristics. (Nordbladh & Yates 1990
[Gilchrist 1999: 57]; see also Fausto-Sterling 1993). The male-female, man-woman binaries are clearly
just ways of conceptualising identity among many, and therefore not irrefutable. Other societies may not
regard male and female as forces that oppose one another as we do, but rather as processes that are both
inherent in each person (Yates 1993: 48–51, 60). In gender systems where masculine and feminine traits
exist equally in every individual, gender is also malleable and vulnerable to change, with the potential
shift occurring either by choice or involuntarily (Gero & Scattolin 2002: 160). It is also important to bear
in mind that not all people in any given society are gendered similarly to the same extent, as gender is
also contextual and relational (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 41).

3.2 Feminist theories

The word theory has its etymological roots in theoria, which among other things means viewing. This
corresponds well to feminist theories, which can be described as ways to view the material from a certain
viewpoint. In spite of the existing quantity that required this section to be headlined ‘feminist theories’
instead of using the singular, there is one thing all seem to have in common, and that is opposing and
critiquing present day-sexism everywhere it is encountered (Voss 2000: 182). Within science, the critique
has especially been directed towards the various techniques in use that perpetuate the androcentric bias,
of which two, distortion and erasure, are quintessential concerning the research in Bohuslän and
archaeology in general. The first, distortion, has come to mean the projection of presentist ideas and
universalizing attitudes about women and their roles into the past – a practise, which in effect distorts the
analysis of the data, leading to stereotypical interpretations that are never put under question, as they are
in accord with the cultural views of the present (Nelson 2006: 12). The second, erasure, is as adeptly
termed, for research where erasure is evident deem only men important and interesting to the exclusion
12
of everything else (ibid). Further examination into exclusion has also revealed different variations of the
concept. The one of particular interest here is alienation, as it works not by excluding totally, but in more
subtle ways: women are seemingly included, but they only appear in androcentric terms, namely as
heterosexual partners in unions, matrimonial or otherwise. (Scott 1997: 2–3.) This is significant, because
feminist theories have critiqued the limiting factor of using conjugality and the often resulting pregnancy
to define all females, because it implicitly suggests that women are less able to perform tasks other than
child bearing and rearing (Baker 1997: 185). The notion that the only activities historical women concern
themselves with involve children and household chores, with perhaps the addition of needlework, is a
prime example of essentialism implicit in much of archaeological research, which suggests that both
sexes contain an inherent universal nature and an essence of either manhood or womanhood. However,
the only universal truth concerning the female sex is the ability to conceive, and equally as noteworthy
is the fact that this certainly does not concern all women, nor define the entirety of any woman’s life.
(Nelson 2002: 4–5.)
While original feminist theories most concerned with gender power dynamics and the challenge
against dominant masculinist values are by no means obsolete, the current repertoire has been enriched
with third-wave theories that, above all, are characterized by a common interest in diversity (Dowson
2001: 322–323). These new theories brought with them an understanding that, should the focus rest solely
on women as opposed to men, feminism, and thus also feminist informed fields, could quickly become
guilty of the same oversight which created the exclusive androcentric view in the first place (Lesick
(1997: 33). As a result, new feminist theories have evolved to include the full variety of gender under
one analysis, studying systems rather than focusing on individual genders. Thus, each gender a society
recognises is taken into consideration and analysed in order to recognise difference between categories.
(Nelson 2006: 14.) Among newer theories, for example, is Judith Butler’s “gender performance”, which
states that all genders are continually produced and ascertained through sets of repeated acts (Voss 2006:
370). Suzanne Spencer-Wood (2011: 21) is another theorist worth mentioning. Her “both/and inclusive
feminist theory”, which argues against constructing uniform gender-exclusive categories and
dichotomies, theorizes that categories should be polythetic, meaning that members share some
experiences but not all.
Overall, the legacy of feminism has left a positive imprint on gender archaeology, and it is
especially seen in the tolerant eclectism of methods and interests brought on by the third wave (Gilchrist
1999: 146). Although currently the situation stands that past genders can be studied archaeologically
without drawing from feminist theories considered too political by many, there is a danger that such

13
studies take present and patriarchal gender stereotypes for granted (Spencer-Wood 2011: 4), and so
feminism remains useful even in the face of other gender theories.

3.3 Queer theory

In this day and age, most archaeologists recognise that uncritically adopted, stereotypical assumptions
about gender and sexuality peculiar to our own cultural background are widespread in many
archaeological interpretations of past societies (Voss & Schmidt 2000: 14; Hays-Gilpin 2004: xi). In part,
credit is due to feminism, but in the new arena of archaeological studies of sexuality, feminist theory
quickly found itself ousted by the onset of queer theory which, despite its similar roots, maintains a
unique perspective. Instead of challenging androcentrism, queer theory critiques and challenges the
exclusiveness of established normative practice (Voss 2000: 164), and the prerequisite of
heteronormativity, giving voice to a variety of non-binary and non-hierarchical sexual categories
(Spencer-Wood 2011: 17). Most telling is the oppositional moniker ‘queer’, which has come to represent
both the rejection of taxonomic sexual categories and an inclusive stance that, above all, promotes
difference (Voss 2000: 184).
Even though the word is usually associated with homosexuality, queer theory seeks to challenge
all normative practice, not just that relating to sexuality; in including all minorities and marginal groups,
the theory makes it possible to deconstruct traditional models in favour of exploring the possibility of
practices known to exist, but which remain unacknowledged due to prejudiced values in the western
cultural system. Furthermore, as hitherto unthought-of representations of the past are created (Dowson
2001: 323–324), queer theory helps give support to the understanding that both humans and human
sexuality have always been multidimensional and variable (Voss & Schmidt 2000: 14–18). By
demanding to leave behind the normative stance that is exclusive and intolerant of difference, queer
theory has also influenced archaeologists to accept the existence of nonbinary persons, meaning third
gender males and fourth gender females, who despite their sex are neither men nor women (Hollimon
2001: 181). In gender systems that recognise multiple genders, it is the individual traits, such as
temperament, that tend to be more important in determining gender than biological sex (Hollimon 2006:
435–436). This development is also important for the reason that, in practice, almost all cultures have
more than two gender categories (Hays-Gilpin 2012a: 129), even if they remain unacknowledged by
mainstream society.
Even though queer theory provides and interesting standpoint to past gender studies, the
deconstructions of sex and gender that are peculiar to queer theory, destabilize the categories of male,
14
female, woman and man, rendering the adoption quite challenging (Voss 2000: 186). Thus, the feminist
sex/gender system may sometimes be more appropriate, provided that the criticised sex dualism is not
taken for granted and understood as the basis of gender. However, as Barbara Voss (2000) states, neither
feminist nor queer theories should be applied unquestioningly to the past, even though using them can
undoubtedly enrich interpretations.

3.4 Theory of multiple masculinities

Men have always been part of archaeological interpretations, as has been revealed through the course of
this paper, so their visibility has never been an issue. Problems have originated from another source, as
it is becoming clear that the way men have been treated with regards to gender and other categories of
identity (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 5) has rendered them vague and homogenous with no divergent qualities
between individuals. In agreement, Lisbeth Skogstrand (2010: 35, 38) argues that an archaeological
understanding of prehistoric men has been just as stereotyped as the androcentric image of prehistoric
women, with used-up archetypes reproduced in endless circulation. Even though men are by no accounts
universal and there is a great deal of differentiation between them, this universalization was not
questioned until relatively recently, which resulted in both men and women being perceived as gendered
and culturally conditioned to the same extent (Alberti 2006a: 401–402).
Masculinity is currently thought of as a contextually specific analytical category that consists of
traits, behaviours, and expectations that are commonly associated with males in specific cultures,
aggression for example being a trait universally recognised as pertaining to males in contemporary
Western countries. The concept of masculinity is also quite multidimensional: in addition to its
changeable nature, masculinity can be used quantitatively so that one can have more or less of it, and
even if traditionally masculinity is seen as deriving from the male body, there are things and people
besides males who can be perceived as masculine (Alberti 2006a: 405–407, 410, 416.) For that reason,
it is something females too can assume (Gilchrist 1999: 64, 74, 148). Thus, it has been made clear, that
masculinity is not an essential bodily quality, and what accounted as masculinity in the interpretations of
the past, is in truth only essentialist normative masculinity – a stereotypical view that neglects complexity
and is unable to account for contextual, cultural or historical variation. (Alberti 2006a: 402–403, 407,
412.)
The idea of multiple masculinities values diversity, much in the same way diversity has come to
the forefront in feminist studies. It breaks down the idea of men as a single category of a generalized
masculine identity. Even if archaeologists have focused on aggressive men, it does not mean that any
15
other kind of men did not exist (Alberti 2006a: 421). Aggressive, hyper-sexual warrior men most evident
in Scandinavian rock art fit easily into the concept of Raewyn Connell’s theory of hegemonic
masculinity, which states that male culture consists of a privileged gender group and other less-rewarding
sub-groups. Even though belonging to the former must have been highly desirable, membership could
only be attained by putting on a creditable “manhood act most revered in a culture” and this was no small
task. Therefore the ideal must also have been modified and adjusted, or countered and contrasted with
alternative ways for men to construct themselves, as realistically some men must have had less resources
at their disposal, and some would have been unable or even unwilling to enact the ideal, even faced with
the prospect of being conceived as unmanly. (Schrock & Schwalbe 2009: 280–286.)

4. Gender in Bohuslän rock art

This section of my paper is devoted to establishing categories for the various human figures recognised
in the carvings, but first, it is necessary to discuss the bodily features and other characteristics which are
considered to be the most important with regards to gender, and describe the most common problems
involved in the use of these interpretive tools. What has become clear so far, is that the Bohuslän bodies
seem to represent at least two kinds of people: some are sexed, while others are not. What might have
led to a situation where some bodies were given clear sexual indicators, but the majority was portrayed
without any? Based on the vast number of neutral figures, something else seems to be of greater
importance than group identities based on two sexes. It seems reasonable to suggest that phallic figures
represent males who were culturally viewed as men, but if we accept that the traditional understanding
of Bohuslän rock art advocating adult men in favour of others stems partly from the notion that attributes
action and the outdoors with maleness and passivity and the domestic with femaleness (Bevan 2015: 30),
which is arguably a bad model for heterarchical Bronze age societies, one must ask what sort of humans
could the other bodies represent and whether it is possible to recognise other genders alongside men?

4.1 Problems concerning identification

The different bodies could be explained in a multitude of ways. The easiest and most straightforward by
far, for our own cultural mind-set, would be to think in terms of a binary sex classification system that
understands gender as a cultural dimension of biological sex, and thus seeks to identify male and female
gender, ergo men and women, based on differences between respective anatomies. So far, only
anatomical traits seem to hold true, as attempts by archaeologists to identify universal symbols that have

16
either masculine or feminine implications have resulted in little success (Lindgren 1999). Thus, the male
sexual organ is taken as a certain sign signalling maleness, while breasts act in a similar fashion toward
indicating femaleness. This is problematic however, because as far as can be told, the Bronze Age
petroglyphs contain no figures with apparent breasts. Even though a contrasting opinion has been voiced
by Goldhahn and Ingrid Fuglestvedt (2012: 238), who have suggested that one axe bearing male figure
is actually a female with breasts, overall, definite signs denoting femininity seem to be non-existent. This
inconvenient hurdle has been circumvented in the context of Bohuslän by nominating the female sex
through that which is added, namely long hair or cupmarks, and that which is lacking, essentially meaning
male genitalia. In addition to these, Yates (1993: 42–43) also mentions that the lack of weapons has
sometimes been understood to characterize females, but this criterion is one of convenience only and
quite presumptuous, as it clearly states that females cannot by any means bear arms. It should also be
said that femaleness has also been signified in terms of sexuality and reproduction, and thus women are
often seen as the passive participants in heterosexual unions (Whitehouse 2006: 758), effectively
rendering them to no more than testaments to masculine virility.
Even though the tradition of sorts to “incorporate” women using these aforementioned criteria
can be seen as a positive endeavour, in actuality, these interpretative models are somewhat problematic
in that they not only stem from, but also reinforce the view that men are the norm. With men as the
default figures, women remain rare and identified only if and when certain conditions are met. (Hays-
Gilpin 2004: 23.) In addition, all of the criteria contain a degree of ambiguity. As Yates (1993) and
Skogstrand (2006) have both pointed out, long hair is sometimes seen on figures with male genitalia and
clearly, as it is physically possible for male individuals to grow out their hair, length alone does not a
woman make. Besides, it seems to be quite a rare trait, as only 14 of hundreds of figures appear with long
hair and a half of them are phallic, at least according to Yates (1993), so hair length is evidently not a
sex exclusive a feature. Still, it might have other connotations, perhaps ones pertaining to some aspects
of identity, gender or alternative roles; the hairstyle might not refer so much to length as to a distinctive
and elaborate styling or a snood, a particular headgear as described by Bevan (2015: 30; 2001:78) that
might have been worn by female priests (Fig. 3a). Ultimately the only certainty is that the addition of
hair must mean something, be it either gender, age or something else, even if the meaning yet eludes us.

17
 Figure 3: Renderings of
statuettes: a) female
wearing a snood.
a) b) (Bevan 2001: fig 10, 78
[after Kristiansen 1998,
fig. 47c]); b) female
performing acrobatics.
(Bevan 2001: fig 9, 77
[after Kristiansen 1998,
fig. 47b])

As indicators to female genitalia, cupmarks between the legs are on equally shaky ground as they
too can appear between the legs of phallic figures (Yates 1993), as seen for example in figure 2a. In
addition to being the most common rock art motif in the world appearing in many different kinds of
contexts and undoubtedly having a variety of meanings for the peoples who made and used them
(Lindgren 1999: 41), the innate ambiguity of cupmarks has resulted in over a hundred explanations put
forward on their meaning (Coles 2005: 79). Bevan’s (2001: 69) for instance, concerning the rock art
traditions of Valcamonica, include hypothesising that cupmarks might have signalled sexual maturity,
initiated womanhood, the vagina, childbirth or the menstrual moon cycle. The association of cupmarks
with femininity in the Scandinavian Bronze Age rock art research stems mostly from a long tradition that
has its origins in Oscar Almgren’s research in the 1920’s, through which the notion has gained merit.
Even though the statement presented by Almgren that cupmarks symbolise female genitalia has generally
been accepted by subsequent archaeologists, as remarked by Lindgren (1999: 43), in view of the
ambiguity pertaining to cupmarks, it could also be argued that the merit gained by a long research
tradition is not enough. While it cannot be denied that at least some cupmarks in some circumstances,
contexts and time periods, the Bronze Age for example, probably had a feminine connotation and a link
to the female sexual organ and fertility (see, e.g. Lindgren 1999; Meaden 2008), that is surely not the
case with all of them, and the meaning may differ depending on different contexts and cultural traditions.
Also, for the Bohuslän rock art sites, which are located away from habitation on clay soils, rather than
fertile lands where agriculture was practised, the theory supporting fertility loses some of its validity
(Vogt 2001: 106).
Despite the fact that female criteria have clearly become worn and the ambiguity does them no
favours, there are researchers advocating their use. Bevan (2001: 80) for example, remarks that there are
some very convincing examples that meet the aforementioned conditions. As efforts to procure a picture
of this figure have failed, Bevan’s word is the only testament available. However, a figure known as the

18
Fossum kvinna (Fig. 2h) seems like a suitable alternative, as it is one of the most well-known portrayals
of a supposed female, even though the calves are deemed abnormally pronounced.

4.2 Identifying men

In the spirit of hegemonic masculinity, discussion of men cannot be started with nothing less than first
addressing the issue of the warrior. The warriors can be recognised by their weapons and exaggerated
attributes, and they are the ones most commonly engaged in fighting, as attested among others by
Skogstrand (2006), Bevan (2015), and Yates (1993). The most singular feature noticeable is what Bevan
(2001) has called “phallic display” through which the phallic warriors seem to exude a blatant sexual
charge (Fig. 4).

Figure 4: Ithyphallic warriors engaged in combat.

(Bevan 2015: Fig. 3.1, 22 [Ling 2010: fig 4, 35])

The phallus, that appears either as a flaccid or tumescent appendage attached somewhere near the
torso or the lower half of the body, is the single most important signifier for masculinity (Engelstad 2001:
264). Many alternate explanations have been put forward, and it seems they are either seen as exaggerated
reflections of real body parts, sheaths meant to be donned during rituals, or symbolic manifestations of
hyper-masculinity (Bevan 2015: 27). A distinction is also made between a penis and a phallus, a phallus
being not a “real” penis, but a symbol signifying power, group identity and masculinity. Its meaning is
gained through a process of valorisation, and rather than separating males from females, the phallus
distinguishes between different kinds of humans. (Skogstrand 2006: 88; Bevan 2001: 65.) Even though
its link to males is blatant, the values, qualities and actions associated with the phallus are not exclusive

19
to men, and women too could be considered phallic, if they acted in a masculine manner (Skogstrand
2006: 93). In the imagery, phalli also seem to have a close connection with weapons, and in some cases
these penetrative instruments are hard to tell apart; perhaps intentionally some sword hilts and phalli
seem to merge, in effect becoming one and the same (Horn 2013).
Though most prominent, phalli are not the only attributes linked to masculinity and exaggerated
calves in particular have been notoriously emphasised in interpretations. They, however, are more
ambiguous, as they might also be expressions of a life force that is an inherent in all humans and not just
males (Fuglestvedt 1999: 28). But taking into account that prominent calves were used to infer
masculinity at least by Viking times, Yates (1993: 51–67) suggests that they, along with phalli, are
detachable signs used to distinguish, in his terms, between males and those that lack maleness, meaning
that maleness is not fixed and inherent in the male body, but rather supplemented and achieved by
genderization. This lack of maleness can of course be taken to mean females, but it could also mean
other, less masculine males themselves. If one assumes that all of these individual features, phalli, calves
and weapons are gendered signs that men in general possess, then what about the figures that lack one or
two of the three? Are they less manly than those who have all? Which is the sign most highly valued in
the masculinity scale: the weapon, the phallus or the calves, or are they all of equal worth and therefore
used cumulatively?
If we take into consideration Yates’s (1993) view of the detachability of certain specific signs,
and the concept that masculinity is constructed and emerges with the application of these said signs that
denote it, we are able to explain those human figures that are depicted without phalli, exaggerated calves
or weapons more appropriately. Variation might act as an indication of difference, or perhaps different
types of masculinity according to the theory of hegemonic masculinity, as addressed by Skogstrand
(2006). The phallus can therefore be understood as a sign that both signals and ascertains masculinity,
and taking into account a gender system where it has to be attained and maintained, it becomes clear why
a sexed body is only depicted in certain situations. It also explains why these signs, the phallus and the
calves, appear larger than they normally would, because they are in fact not “natural” parts of the body.
Bevan’s (2001: 75; 2015: 24) observation, that fighting phallic warriors are often involved in what she
has interpreted as hostage taking (fig. 5), where the aggressor is the only one to bear a weapon and a
phallus, while the victim appears genderless, fits quite well into this. The emasculation of the sexless
victims whose bound arms are implied by leaving them armless, as opposed to the power wielded by the
phallic warriors, is a recurring theme in one-on-one hostage scenes, even though it is not quite clear
whether the captives represent de-gendered beings or just gender neutrals. If, however, the captives are
male, they have been stripped of both weapons and other gender indicators, and as a result of being
20
subjugated, their body is replaced with a genderless one that has in effect become unmanned (Bevan
2015: 25.) Through the exertion of dominance over bound captives, the use of the phallus as a “power-
laden motif” also becomes clear. The same has been said by Sansoni (2015: 133), who talks about
ithyphallic figures being used to ‘underline the manly power of dominance’.

a) b)

Figure 5: Captives? a) One-on-one hostage taking. (Bevan 2015: Fig. 3.5.d, 24 [after Sansoni 1987: fig. 65,
71].); b) Phallic warrior with a group of bound captives. (detail from Coles 2003: Fig 9, 226.)

All in all, though Yates (1993) has some worthwhile ideas, his view that the phallic males
represent adult male initiates, while the non-phallic group consists of uninitiated male youths has been
criticized, among other things, due to its use of an unsuitable analogical model. As Bevan (2001: 75)
points out, many of the combatting human figures lack phalli, which would suggest the certainty of
uninitiated youths taking part in combat, which to her is unlikely considering the indivisible nature of
warriorhood and initiated status. Of course, this would not be much of an issue if, instead of representing
actual warfare, the carvings portrayed ritual athletic performances, where the death of an opponent was
not the desired outcome, as has been suggested by Helle Vandkilde (2013: 52). Yates, however, is not
alone in thinking that all of the humans may be men and, in this, Skogstrand’s (2006) views line with
his, as she has postulated that the images represent warriors and other men. Even though a consensus
seems unattainable, a fairly clear picture has emerged of a society that did not consider the binary division
between males and females a natural means to categorize bodies.

4.3 Identifying women

As has been discussed, the typical female gender category ‘woman’ is deemed problematic in the context
of Bohuslän petroglyphs, for there are no clear indications denoting the female anatomy. It cannot be
denied that amidst the hyper-masculine phallic warriors and gender neutral bodies, evidence of
femininity is hard to come by, and its presence even more difficult to attest. In varying degrees women
have either been included, for example by Levy (1999), who suggests that most of the non-phallic figures
21
are women; or excluded from the carvings altogether, most notoriously by Yates (1993), who rightly
suggests that the absence of women need not always be an empirical problem, because initiation rites
can be situations where some groups of people, such as women, are excluded. His argument that the
carvings are not based on male-female binary opposition, but rather a warrior/non-warrior dichotomy is
astute, but it goes too far in assuming that all of the human figures represent males. As Hays-Gilpin
(2004: xi) has suggested, we should not assume women to be prevalent, such as has been done in the
case of men, and this is especially true with images that lack any true gender markers. But as Yates (1993:
47) himself wrote, figures, whose sexual indicators are absent, are ambivalent: they could be either males
or females. Bevan (2015: 27) seems similarly inclined, because she suggests that sexual exclusivity
cannot be proven in the carvings, although she later states that femininity may have been meant to
manifest in more subtle ways, as symbols and animals, rather than on human bodies (ibid: 29–30).
When it comes to women and definite sex signifiers, breasts seem to act as the equivalent of male
genitalia. However, the idea that anatomical representations of either sexual organs or secondary sexual
characteristics are needed to distinguish genders in rock art is flawed, and mainly stems from a culturally
specific western notion according to which external biology and anatomy are the most important features
in designating sex, and therefore also gender. Eleanor Scott (1997: 9) concurs, stating that it is possible
that undue emphasis has been placed on the body as a means of expressing gender differences and ideals
of femininity and masculinity. In truth, the body and its parts can be defined in various ways (Brumfiel
2006: 36), meaning that the body is a social, historical and cultural construct (Engelstad 2001: 267–269).
Therefore depictions of body parts can have diverse meanings in different times, places and contexts
(Hays-Gilpin 2004: 17–18). Furthermore, the use of breasts to indicate female figures is by no means
straightforward: not all cultures that produced rock art depicted females with breasts, at least not all the
time (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 29). Body size and height are not sex specific either, because the mean height
and robustness can vary between individuals regardless of sex. So, although the female form as we have
come to understand it with its ample breasts and widened hips is not among the body types found in
Bohuslän rock carvings, it does not mean that women are not represented, because what was important
to depict might not have coincided with our views of what makes a woman.
Instead of proposing exclusive male initiation or multiple masculinities, Levy (1999), Christopher
Tilley (1999 [Bevan 2001: 77]) and Kristian Kristiansen (2014) have a more inclusive view of the rituals
associated with the carvings, as Tilley concludes they involved the whole community, while Kristiansen
proposes they were performed by high ranking men and women, a view similar to Levy’s. In fact, Bronze
Age statuettes (fig. 3b) depicting women with defined calf muscles and small breasts seem to support the
argument that women have a role in the rock carvings as performers of back flips (Bevan 2015: 27). John
22
Coles (2005: 35) also talks about this, saying that the sexless voltigeurs have slight indicators of being
female with regards to their body shape. Even though this seems like conjecture on his part, there are
some clothed figures, whose body shape in terms of a narrower waist could be characterized as being
slightly feminine (fig. 6), though the clothing clearly has a hand in creating this illusion. Bevan (2015:
30), too, refers to the statuettes remarking that in some of the hierogamic wedding scenes, for example
that of Hoghem (fig. 7), the priest has many significant similarities with the small female statues in terms
of style, clothing and hair, and it is possible that women might have acted as priestesses in rituals that
were recorded in rock art.

Figure 6: Figure Figure 7:

from Lyse. Hoghem priest.
(Foundation for (Yates 1993: Fig.
documentation of 1.7, 47, edges
Bohuslän removed from the
petroglyphs 2011.) original.)

Additional claims connecting women to rituals have been found in abundance: Goldhahn (1999: 15)
suggests, that the carvings could very well have been the outcome of active ritual practices that involved
different genders, seemingly suggesting women’s involvement. More boldly, Umberto Sansoni (2015:
136) proposes that even if women are not overemphasised, they are often represented as protagonists in
ritual scenes; Helena Victor (1999: 85) likewise argues on behalf of women’s association with rituals
and their active participation as priestesses saying, that according to multiple strands of evidence, the
rock carvings were portrayals of religious rituals and ceremonial public performances that actively
included both women and men, with women possibly leading some of the proceedings. Lastly, Jeanette
Varberg (2013) postulates that some adorants adjacent to chariots and horses, shown in figure 8, have
been misinterpreted as men, though women acting as cult specialists is the likelier interpretation, as horse
gear and women’s ornaments are frequently found together in late Bronze Age hoards. Taking into
account the existence of rituals combining women, warriors, horses, chariots and ships and Indo-
European mythology of the sun’s journey (Kristiansen 2012; Varberg 2012), there seems to be some
relevance to this interpretation.
In light of this, Bevan (2001: 77–78) is right to point out that, by claiming all the carvings
represent men, Yates, in effect, disregards they ways women contribute to rituals and society. She also
rightly questions the criteria onto which Yates has based his claims of maleness, mainly the absence of
23
breasts and the presence of exaggerated calf muscles, and deems them debatable, since the necessary
physique for doing demanding athletics, such as backflips, would have to be muscular, defined and toned
with little body fat to accommodate much in the way of breasts. If indeed the rock carvings depict non-
exclusive rituals, and women were involved in said rituals, and possibly held positions as cult specialists,
it goes without saying that women are likely to be depicted in the carvings. So even though women
cannot be exclusively identified based on cupmarks, hair length or distinguished from other neutral forms
based on anatomy, their absence in the carvings is only conjectural.

Figure 8: Robed adorants

near chariots. (Coles
2005: Plate 9, V.)

4.4 Sexual couplings

In the Bohuslän petroglyphs sexuality seems rampant, especially with regards to the erect phalli of the
warriors and the rare but still significant scenes of various sexual couplings. Sexual acts have been known
to be depicted in a multitude of ways, and it is not always clear what is being portrayed. Sansoni (2015:
136) has remarked that, as opposed to scenes that depict explicit sexual intercourse or penetration, the
most frequent sexual scenes are hierogamic. They depict two figures standing face to face, intertwined
or perhaps embracing, sometimes with a figure holding aloft an axe standing in the near vicinity (Fig. 9).

24
 Figure 9: Hieros-Gamos scene from Vitlycke. (Almgren 2016.)

Much attention has been paid to these presumed wedding scenes, but as Bevan (2015: 28) points
out, most of the scenes appear to happen in an antagonistic context, so some of the sexual acts being
depicted may not be consensual in nature, even though scenes of rape are yet to be identified with any
degree of certainty (Bevan 2001: 74). There are even some quite complex unions with two phallic figures
in contact or near contact with a third sexless figure (Coles 2005: 35), but the meaning of these supposed
ménage-a-trois scenes and similar one-on-one compositions remains unclear. The focus on fertility and
hence heterosexuality has been suggested and stated as obvious (Bertillson 2008: 35), but not by all
(Skogstrand 2008: 568), though in truth, none of the sexual scenes in Bohuslän petroglyphs are easily
attributed to any kind of specific sexual behaviour, be it either heterosexual, homosexual or something
else. Therefore it is prudent to question if sex is truly what we are seeing in these images. (Bevan 2015:
27–28.) Skogstrand (2008: 573) is of the same mind, saying that the pairings might reflect relations
between warriors, where the emphasis was not on sex, but on mutual respect and reliance. It has also
been suggested that the ithyphallic figures might not be what, at first glance, would seem as an
uninhibited expression of masculine libido, but a general lust for life and a potential for action
(Fuglestvedt 1999: 28). Thus, the challenges involved in rendering sexuality two-dimensional are equally
present in the interpretation process, as the ambiguity of the images makes them hard to interpret beyond
reasonable doubt. In the case of indisputable sexual intercourse, for example, it can still be difficult to
tell which figure is the one being penetrated, not to mention the sex/gender of the participants. (Hays-
Gilpin 2004: 34.)

25
 Even though there is some variability in these scenes with regards to the degree of contact
between the two figures, they all seem to be perceived as sexual scenes nonetheless, which is why the
traditional view regards the two participants as a female and a male, the latter being depicted usually
with a sword sheath and a phallus. However, as Yates (1993: 43–45) has remarked, they are assumptions
the validity of which is based on contemporary ideas of morality, due to our culture’s way of appraising
sexual acts according to a system in which monogamous martial sex for the purpose of reproduction is
prioritized and accorded the highest value, while non-reproductive and non-heterosexual relations are
ostracized. This form of heteronormative bias can hinder us from seeing sexual variety and diversity in
terms of sexual acts in past societies, leading to sexuality being discussed in archaeology mainly in terms
of heterosexual marriage, as is the case with the Bohuslän spring weddings. (Voss and Schmidt 2000: 4–
6.) To interpret all the human figures who are conjoined or otherwise in close connection as heterosexual
couples, while, at least in some cases, they could very well be something else altogether, is bias plain
and simple. Like Yates (1993: 45–46) has stated, there really is nothing that marks the couples as male-
female pairs, and to prove his argument he points out that in some of the scenes, the “female” figure has
exaggerated calves, a characteristic which he associates with phallic figures. As has been demonstrated
this need not necessarily mean that they are males, but Yates makes a convincing case, arguing that some
of them might be, especially when considering that in some cases, for example that of Hoghem in Tanum
(Fig. 9), both parties seem to have phalli, although this might also be due to inaccuracies of the rubbing.
In light of this, it is far-fetched at best to imagine that all of the pairing scenes, overtly sexual or
otherwise, are neat expressions of the heterosexual norm. Rather, these sort of interpretations usually tell
more about the prejudices and biases of the archaeologists; even Ling (2008: 169) in his thesis refers to
“ideal” sexual acts as those between men and women, as opposed to those, where perhaps in his opinion,
less than ideal scenes of sexual nature are being presented, such as relations between men and men, men
and animals, and men and what has been interpreted as children due to their smaller size. However, as
Bevan (2015: 27–28) remarks, there really is no way to know for sure what is happening in the Kville
182 panel (Fig. 10), and the smaller figure in the scene might not be a child, but rather a symbol of the
powers of procreation pertaining to the phallic figure. Bevan’s belief that a transference of life force
might be portrayed in the Kville panel and not a true act of sexual nature per se, is a useful way to look
at things for some other sexual scenes as well, as most of them share the same fluidity of movement.

26
 Figure 10: Kville 182.
(Ling 2008: Fig: 9.2, 169.)

With regards to scenes supposedly portraying bestiality, such as one from Kallsängen (fig. 11a),
where a phallic figure armed with a sword is possibly intending to copulate with a horse, and another
from Stora Hoghem (fig. 11b) showing a union between a male and a bovid, it should be noted that there
are researchers (see for example Nash 2001) who validly question, whether these sort of acts should be
taken at face value. Rather than portraying real sexual unions, they might have contained a multitude of
symbolic meanings and motives, ranging from the humorous to showcasing the procreative power of the
penis (Bevan 2001: 73). There is also the possibility that cosmological beliefs, such as a myth linking
monarchs, white horses and ritualized sexual acts, might also have actuated their making (Goldhahn &
Fuglestvedt 2012: 251; Varberg 2012: 155).

Figure 11: Bestiality? a)

a) Kallsängen. (Lindgren 1999:
Fig. 2.2, 43 [after Coles
c) 1990].); b) Stora Hoghem.
(drawn from Sansoni 2015:
Fig. 11.9.9, 135.); c) an
additional example showing
Sagaholm barrow stone slab
from Jönköping. (Hays-Gilpin
2004: Fig. 2.24, 38 [after
b) Malmer 1981:Fig. 15a].)

In the end, it goes without saying that societies which encourage ideal sexual behaviour and
outwardly shun other, less-ideal activities, might still exhibit remarkable discrepancies between
ideologies and lived sexual practice (Voss & Schmidt 2000: 4–6). It is also quite clear that these images
27
cannot be taken as straightforward representations of neither, and so we cannot expect them to give us
an accurate view if some sexual practices were considered normal and some deviant. On the other hand,
there is still some variability shown among the few sexual scenes in the petroglyphs, so it is plausible to
think that the societies were not sexually hierarchical, but in the end sexuality might not have had that
much significance, as in the carvings fighting clearly took precedence over loving.

5. Ambiguous bodies

In light of the previous sections, there seems to be a few alternate views through which the carvings have
been approached. Traditionally, it has been thought that all of the figures equipped with phalli, weapons
or other male signifiers are men, and women are those few that have long hair or cupmarks between the
legs. More recently, it has been suggested that all of the human figures are men, while women are
excluded from the carvings, but in contrast, others have postulated that the figures who lack phalli are
primarily women. Lastly, there have been some views suggesting that the warrior figures in particular
represent men, while women, as ritual performers and cult specialists, may have been included after all.
In these differing opinions, one similarity seems to stand out: these interpretations all look for
men and women only, with the unsexed and gender vague figures either left out of the interpretations as
nothing certain can be said about them, or incorporated within the traditional gender structure, either as
men or women. Even if it can be argued that a respectable portion of the rock carvings represent men,
with perhaps women constituting a comfortable percentage of the unsexed, the rest of the overwhelming
number of neutral figures remain unaccounted for. Though a possibility remains, that sex is present in
the carvings, and only due to different cultural traditions we find ourselves unable to decipher them
correctly (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 7–19), it could be, that a gender system unlike our own was prevalent,
where differences beyond the anatomical took precedence and which, in turn, would have been reflected
in the carvings. In addition, there is another possible way these figures could be explained that deserves
to be taken into account: ambiguous figures may realistically represent androgynous sex-ambiguous
individuals (Hays-Gilpin 2004: 17–19). Intersexuality is a viable option, especially as some of the
carvings do seem to combine masculine and feminine characteristics, such as hairstyles, strong lower
body musculature, cupmarks between the legs and phalli. These anomalous associations are used to prove
the ambiguity of female signs, but the idea has never been entertained that they might in fact represent
extraordinary individuals. Even though representations of intersex figures have not been identified in
rock art, and they are either unknown or rare almost to the point of non-existence, figures that have been
attributed to a non-binary gender exist, such as the human figures depicted wearing maiden’s butterfly

28
hair whorls and sporting possible penises in North American contexts identified by Hays-Gilpin (2004:
127–146). Therefore, even though intersex individuals should not be overlooked, nor should their
existence be ignored, as they are by no means rare (Fausto-Sterling 1993; Geller 2005), the possibility
of alternate, non-binary genders, and specifically the ability to shift one’s gender, is more prudent a
choice to consider here.

5.1 Shifting genders

According to theories presented in this paper, in cultural systems where gender is not restricted to its
binary form, gender can be mutable and prone to change. Additionally, in situations where change is
liable, rather than being dichotomous, gender can be described as a continuum (Clover 1993). The
concept of a gender shift therefore makes it possible for an individual to move along it, assuming a gender
identity along the way. It is also worthwhile to note that, rather than ranging from women to men per se,
the continuum could be seen as holding genderless on one end and male gender on the other. This is also
observable in the imagery, as the smaller number of phallic warriors in contrast with the greater quantity
of neutral figures would seem to support the view that masculinity in particular is being accorded a
special significance, while the lack thereof, which applies to a larger number of people, is deemed less
important.
Even though a gender system such as this might seem unusual, the changeable nature of gender
does seem to make most sense of the neutral figures. As has previously been discussed, hostages might
have been denied masculine gender due to their imprisoned status and shortcomings in battle. In addition,
neutral figures might also include children and prepubescent youths, whose low hormone levels ensure
a similar low degree of sexual dimorphism (Hanks 2008: 22). Juveniles’ ambiguity owing to physical
immaturity may in some cases have resulted in a wholly separate gender, but more likely it would have
led to them being considered genderless within their society, until either sexual maturity was reached or
a gendered status achieved (Lesick 1997: 35). In such a society the line between boys and girls, if such
a demarcation even existed, would be blurred as male and female children would both belong to a
homogenous genderless category, from which they would emerge later in life to assume a gendered role.
The late Bronze Age burial rituals of juveniles that become gender-specific at the age of 15, give
testament to this sort of gender system (Welinder 1998: 190). Old age is another example of such a
situation where the lines between the sexes blur, and this can even be evident in skeletal matter (Geller
2005: 598). Both men and women may become re-gendered or de-gendered when they become either
incapacitated due to old age or reach menopause (Lesick 1997: 35), even though in a male focused system
29
the loss of masculinity would have extra serious implications for men resulting in a loss of status
(Bergerbrant (2007). Incidentally, it could be suggested that instead of the categories male and female, a
line should be drawn between able-bodied men and everybody else, the latter category consisting of
women, children, slaves, and old, disabled or otherwise marginalized men (Clover 1993: 13).
Taking this and also the imagery into account, it might seem that the only human worthy of note
was male, as phallic bodies are the only ones distinguished, while the rest remain neutral and
undifferentiated, but the male sexual organ remains the only sign to certifiably indicate male sex and
therefore it can be argued that not all of the figures that display other masculine gender signifiers were
anatomically male. In light of this, the relative question is whether women could adopt a warrior role, or
whether females could take up a gender normally reserved for males (Gräslund 2001). There are
ethnographic data showing that in some cases, women who adopt men’s roles do it without losing their
status as women (Hollimon 2001: 181), but taking into account the fact that weapons, calves and an
aggressive manner are gender signs that denote and ascertain masculinity, it is not likely that cultural
women would be portrayed with them; there would also be no reason for them to be, since they had no
masculinity to begin with, and no need to accumulate it or reinforce it. But as it is possible for some
females to possess a self-identity that does not conform to a socially recognised identity for women, a
possibility remains that these atypical females could, as a result of acting like men and behaving in a
masculine manner, shift their gender, adopt a warrior role, and thus be considered to be men. Cecilie
Brøns (2013) also talks about the possibility that women could change their identity to men or be
“masculinised” by taking or being granted attributes usually reserved for men, or by engaging in violence
and fighting in a manner reminiscent of men (Horn 2013: 239); even Yates (1993: 67) states that
masculine identity was not determined by biology. In some cases the possession of a penis may have
been crucial, a sort of prerequisite for a person to be given the chance to be culturally designated as a
man, but there are other cultural traditions to whom anatomy is irrelevant (e.g. Hollimon 2001; 2006).
The Norse-Icelandic sagas in particular, which have been used to conclude the position of Iron
Age women, portray many strong women who seem to move between genders easily, adopting masculine
roles without derision (Lindeberg 1997: 101). Even though the Iron Age and the late Bronze Age are
separated by hundreds upon hundreds of years, it is not out of the realm of possibility to suggest
continuity in gender systems. Such arguments are not inconceivable, as for example John Robb (1997
[Hays-Gilpin 2004: 109]) has said that cultural traditions can have deep roots, and the links between Iron
and Bronze Age traditions would support such a claim. Varberg (2012: 155) also suggests that the sagas
may have earlier origins in the oral tradition, possibly dating back to the late Bronze Age. The association
of Bohuslän rock art with oral tradition, narration and myths is also brought forward by Åsa Fredell
30
(2003). Carol Clover’s (1993) argument of a sex-gender system in early northern Europe based on these
sagas, where a body’s innate femaleness or maleness could be overridden by either masculine or feminine
behaviour, is particularly fitting here. In this system, although ideal men are masculine and typical
women feminine, both can transfer these boundaries and move back and forth on the gender continuum,
though the shift seems to happen willingly only with women (ibid 2–9). Furthermore, though masculine
women were unusual, they were not unnatural, and this is attested by laws where women took up a
masculine role as “functional sons” in the absence of male heirs, but reverted back to women upon
marriage. (Clover 1993: 6–9, see also Gilchrist 1999: 58.)
The capability to shift from feminine to masculine can be further validated by the prevalence of
the one-sex model that predated modern scientific sex classification in Europe, according to which males
and females possess identical sexual organs that differ only in their placement: genitals were deemed
essentially the same in form and function, only females held theirs inside (Clover 1993: 11). Because
female bodies were in effect inverted male bodies, it was deemed possible for females to transform their
physical form by thrusting their inner sexual organs outwards. (Cilchrist 1999: 55.) The sexes were
therefore seen as substantially the same, with same characteristics and capabilities, only in different
quantities. It was the mentality that either made them different, or similar, and so, some females might
have been drawn to masculine roles, while some conformed to more typical feminine ways.

5.2 Beyond the gender binary

Female warriorhood, and thus also an alternate gender for females, remains for the most part unverified,
as direct bioarchaeological evidence indicating a warrior lifestyle in addition to indirect evidence from
mortuary contexts would be needed to reinforce such a claim, and unfortunately the Bronze Age skeletal
material is sparse and not well suited for such a study (Hanks 2008: 18-19). In the case of males, the
reverse seems true, as they are only too easily identified as warriors without proper bioarchaeological
analysis based on the presence of weapons, even though the addition of weapons might in actuality reflect
warrior values complicit to hegemonic masculinity instead of active warriorhood, as stated by Vandkilde
(2013: 46). Incidentally, the influence of warrior ideology in both the funerary record and the carvings
can make it seem like alternative roles for males did not exist, but if we assume cupmarks and hair styles
to have a feminine connotation, phallic figures with either accentuated hair or cupmarks between the legs
and adjacent to the pelvic region could also indicate male individuals who do not wholly ascribe to the
idea of dominant hegemonic masculinity (Lindgren 1999: 45). Still, the existence of approved alternative
genders for males in a society, which places so much value on masculinity that it recognises only the
31
male sex and structures identity according to masculinity or lack thereof, is difficult to imagine (Clover
1993: 6–9). Particularly, as showcasing one’s individuality could have resulted in effeminacy. This
danger, however, might not have applied to ritualists, and there are multiple voices advocating this.
Bevan (2015: 27), for example, while speculating in passing on the identity of the priestly figures
associated with the wedding scenes, mentions that religious men might have had a different gender
category (ibid 2001: 79). Sandra Hollimon (2006: 440), too, remarks that in some cases gender difference
has been known to apply to ritual specialists, such as shamans who, according to Voss (2006: 378), may
have had a fluctuating gender identity that bridged the gap between man and woman. Interestingly, Hays-
Gilpin (2012a: 127) also says that people who did not conform to societal norms may have been
encouraged to become ritualists.
Susanne Thedéen’s (2003: 109) interpretation that the Scandinavian Bronze Age razor burials
belong to ritual practitioners who had access to ritual knowledge is in line with the aforementioned views.
As these persons’ power would have stemmed from esoteric knowledge and not physical strength and
prowess, their sex would not have mattered. Most interestingly though, the bone structure of the males
alludes to a frame both slender and gracile, a “body type” also seen in the rock art, which could have
been a physical characteristic peculiar to ritualists in its androgyny. (ibid: 110.) Many ancient
Scandinavian gods such as Odin have both masculine and feminine aspects (Lindeberg 1997), and gender
ambiguity may have been considered divine and a signal for a special ritual status (Mandt 2001: 303).
Therefore, even though most males seem to have “adhered to a warrior ethos”, evidently there was
another role available, attested by burials that contain no weapons, but only artefacts relating to hair
removal and other bodily modifications (Bergerbrandt 2007: 133).

6. Concluding remarks

To return to the aims presented at the beginning of this paper, I sought to gain an understanding of both
gender and the body as cultural phenomena, study sexuality, expand known gender categories and, if
possible, introduce new gender manifestations, all in the context of the Bohuslän carvings. Even though
the nature of the images has made this examination somewhat of a challenge, and though to some extent
the chosen approach has ignored cultural change in favour of continuity and presented the Bronze Age
Scandinavian gender system in rather homogenous terms, these aims were more or less achieved. My
findings are as follows:
1) For the most part the warrior figures are representations of hegemonic masculinity, and the
warrior image portrays the ideal which to aspire to. Interestingly, this is also the gender category for men

32
most familiar to our own modern mind set, even though the phallic figures seem to engage in sexual acts
beyond the realm of heterosexuality. 2) Taking into account the possibility of a gender shift, I postulate
that the aforementioned gender category was not reserved for males only; some females could have
shifted their gender, enabling them to enact gender roles conventionally reserved for men. While
becoming cultural men themselves, females could have been portrayed in the carvings displaying their
hard won gender signs. 3) Even though the reinforcement and enactment of masculine ideals became
emphasised in the carvings, there is no reason to assume all conventional women were excluded; they
are present as voltigeurs, adorants and priestesses, in ritual settings. 4) Though the overwhelming
presence of warrior men cannot be denied, it is also possible that there existed alternate roles for other
males, especially a position as a ritual specialist that may have been characterised by a fluctuating gender,
and distinguished by androgyny. These individuals could be portrayed as either phallic or neutral, in
combination with feminine and masculine signs. 5) The remaining unsexed bodies could very well
represent marginalized men and slaves, as well as children and the elderly, ones too young to be assigned
gender, the others too old to maintain one. As all people are born weak and in need of care, masculinity
that equals strength surmounts this innate weakness, but it has to be attained, proven and maintained;
once achieved it also has to be constantly reinforced, because what has been achieved can also be lost,
which is what happens to elderly men in their dotage. Therefore, children and the elderly appear
genderless, while adults are gendered according to a system where biological sex holds some importance,
but not as much as actions and behaviour. The aforementioned conclusions are further demonstrated in
graphic form in the following figure.

Figure 12: Gender continuum illustrating the vast number of neutral figures in contrast with the smaller
portion of phallic warrior figures. The neutral sphere, characterized by a lack of masculinity contains typical
women of all ages, slaves and juveniles as well as marginal and elderly men, none of whom are
straightforwardly identifiable from one another through the carvings. Male ritualists, who are characterized
by a fluctuating gender may move along the gender continuum freely, and could be portrayed either as sexed
or neutral. Warriors, characterized by masculinity, appear with gender signs and are most often sexed.

33
 Taking into account all the supporting contextual evidence presented during the course of this
paper, it stands to reason that a gender system, which made gender shift not only a possibility but a
probability and allowed for the existence of alternate gender roles, was prevalent during the making of
the carvings, ultimately influencing the way people were portrayed. Still, despite all that has been brought
forth, gender attribution can truly be proposed only when multiple lines of evidence all consistently align.
Thus, the extent of the variations between bodies as undisputed indicators of alternative non-binary
genders cannot truly be proven or disproven by studying rock art alone. Only further research can attest
if that which has been brought forth in this paper holds merit, and future endeavours should focus on
applying these results to other Scandinavian Bronze Age contexts in order to look for correlations. This,
however, might be difficult, due to the backhand influence of ideology in representational art that might
not coincide with lived practice. In real life, the various sorts of undistinguished people belonging to the
homogenous mass category surely would have used whatever means at their disposal to showcase
difference in order to distinguish themselves from others, and this discrepancy is what makes the results
of this paper that much harder to ascertain using conventional archaeological methods. Though it is
possible that a gender system unlike our own was in place during Bronze Age Bohuslän, the challenge
ahead is to prove the certainty of it. Otherwise we are only making assumptions about the past and
stumbling down the same pitfalls as those before us, who saw parts of the past as only reflecting that
which was familiar and acceptable to them. In the end this paper is not about categorising the bodies on
the Bohuslän rocks into neat little boxes that, in truth, are far from mutually exclusive. The importance
lies in recognizing that variety and difference are part of the human experience, be it in our past, present
our future.

34
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