Beyond Elizabeth’s bodies
"Queen Elizabeth I of England wears a wig, corset, and ruff. But don’t be fooled: this performance has nothing of the dusty historical drama. Elizabeth defends her choices—above all, those of not marrying and not having children—with the drive and awareness of a woman of today".
A stage play by Elio De Capitani and Cristina Crippa, based on Swive [Elizabeth] by Ella Hickson.
Elizabeth I’s body was never just a body—it was both fragile and powerful, a site of fear and a tool of propaganda, a private image and a public symbol. Two dimensions coexisted within her: the natural, linking her to mortality and the female gender, and the political, which transformed her into the embodiment of the English state. Flesh and power intertwined to the point that it became impossible to distinguish where the woman ended and the queen began. This duality, rooted in the medieval theory of the two bodies of the monarch, became the lens through which Elizabeth constructed her image and consolidated authority in a male-dominated world.
The theory distinguished between a natural body and a political body. The former was mortal, subject to disease and time; the latter was symbolic, meant to ensure the continuity of the crown. Elizabeth turned this distinction into a weapon. Being a woman and unmarried could have limited her, but she transformed her situation into strength. She claimed to have the weak body of a woman but the heart of a king, placing herself in a dimension that transcended gender boundaries. Fragility and authority coexisted within her, and it was precisely in this balance that her power found legitimacy.
This tension between nature and representation resonates with contemporary queer thought and LGBTQ+ perspectives. The natural body corresponds to biology, but it alone does not define a person: society constructs roles and meanings, often in tension with individual experience. Elizabeth demonstrated how one could govern within an identity space that resisted rigid definitions. Her image was the result of constant performance: in portraits, she always appeared young and untarnished, as if time held no power over her. Royal attire and rituals reinforced the idea of a superior, eternal political body, transcending the natural one. Her public life was an ongoing performance, where identity was created through gestures and symbols.
This also parallels experiences in the LGBTQ+ community, where bodies and their visibility become tools of struggle and expression. The fluidity with which Elizabeth combined masculine and feminine traits anticipates contemporary reflections on identity as plural rather than fixed. Moreover, her individual body did not belong solely to her—it was the body of the nation, embodying the collective destiny of England. Similarly, in LGBTQ+ movements, bodies present in public spaces or Pride events represent not just individuals, but the broader community. In both cases, the body becomes a political instrument, a symbol of resistance and transformation.
Elizabeth I’s example shows how identity can be multiple, constructed, and performed. Biologically a woman, but a king in heart and role, fragile and powerful at once, her royalty could not be reduced to a single model. The concept of the two bodies, applied to her life, offers a key to understanding not only the history of monarchical power, but also how the body remains a site of tension between nature and culture, individual and collective, personal intimacy and political dimension. The struggles and reflections of the LGBTQ+ world illuminate how ahead of her time Elizabeth was: the body is never merely biological—it always speaks, represents, and has the power to change history.