Cleopatra Was 25 Once, Too
What it means to rise, reinvent, and rule at any age
To me, the name Cleopatra has always felt synonymous to icon. The eyeliner. The gold. The snakebite. But a recent deep dive sharpened her story beyond the mythology.
I learned she became queen of Egypt at 18. Within a few years, her brother’s advisors forced her into exile. At 21, she was hiding out in the desert, raising a small army, broke but determined. By 25, she had staged one of history’s most audacious comebacks: smuggled into Julius Caesar’s palace rolled up in a carpet, securing his support, and returning to Alexandria as the sole ruler of Egypt. She didn’t just hold power—she reshaped what it meant to embody it.
Her story reads differently at 25—not as mythological constellations, but as coordinates on a map. She shows what it takes to carve power into the world at an age when most people are still finding their footing. And she shows that women can wield power on that scale—not all will want to, and not all will need to, but the capacity is there. Cleopatra is one-of-one in history, but she’s also proof of what lives within each of us. Here’s what I see in her story:
1. Exile as Reinvention
Cleopatra was pushed off the throne by Ptolemy XIII’s court when she was barely 20. Exile didn’t end her story; it gave her leverage to rewrite it. She spent those years gathering supporters and planning her re-entry.
Modern exile rarely looks like being dethroned. It’s leaving a job, watching a relationship collapse, or realizing the plan you built for your life no longer fits. Exile feels like failure, but it’s often the moment when power re-forms. Like Cleopatra, reinvention often comes from writing in the margins, not ruling from the palace.
2. Adaptation as Power
Her comeback didn’t come from marching an army into Alexandria. It came from spectacle and timing. Cleopatra had herself smuggled into Caesar’s chambers, rolled in a carpet (some sources say a sack of laundry). It was absurd, theatrical, and brilliant—it put her face-to-face with the most powerful man in the world when she had no other way in.
This is the essence of adaptation. She didn’t have resources, so she used ingenuity. For women now, adaptation shows up in different shapes: side hustles that buy freedom, unconventional pivots that keep you in the game, creative entrances into rooms that weren’t built for you. Power doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it rolls in quietly, wrapped in the carpet that was yanked from under you.
3. Alliances, With Limits
Once restored, Cleopatra secured her reign by aligning with Caesar, and later with Mark Antony. These relationships gave her legitimacy and protection. They also tethered her fate to theirs. When Antony lost to Octavian, Cleopatra’s dynasty ended with her. She didn’t allow her name to die with theirs.
Alliances amplify power. They also risk it. Modern alliances might be a company, a mentor, or a partner. They can lift you, but they shouldn’t be the only thing holding your throne. Cleopatra shows the balance: use alliances, but build sovereignty that survives without them.
4. Cultural Fluency
Most Ptolemaic rulers clung to their Greek heritage. They didn’t bother to learn Egyptian, treating the people they ruled as foreign subjects. Cleopatra broke that pattern. She learned the language, embraced Egyptian religion, and styled herself as the goddess Isis incarnate. For her subjects, she wasn’t just a foreign queen—she was theirs.
That choice gave her legitimacy. The modern version is simpler but just as critical: authority comes from fluency in the culture you live in. Whether it’s stepping into a new city, a new workplace, or a new community, you can’t lead without learning its language. Belonging is power.
5. Image as Strategy
Cleopatra understood that power is perception. When she sailed to meet Antony, she did it on a golden barge with purple sails, dressed as Aphrodite. This wasn’t indulgence—it was calculated theater. She knew narrative could do the work of armies.
Today, image plays out on social media, resumes, portfolios, and first impressions. Crafting a narrative isn’t artifice—it’s survival. Cleopatra reminds us that how you are seen can decide whether you are heard.
6. The Gamble
Her final gamble—staking everything on Antony—was her undoing. It secured her reign temporarily but ended her dynasty when Rome turned against them. Every gamble carries a price.
For women now, gambles might mean quitting stability to chase independence, moving to a city without a safety net, or risking failure in order to try. The lesson isn’t to avoid gambling. It’s to know the cost, and to choose the losses you can live with.
7. Shades of Power
Cleopatra embodied one form of power: restless, dramatic, world-shaping. But not every woman is compelled to move that way. Some choose steadiness—building families, communities, traditions. Their power is quieter, less theatrical, but just as vital.
The difference isn’t capacity. Women are all capable of wielding the kind of power they choose. The difference is desire. Some feel the compulsion to carve something into the world at any cost. Others find their power in tending, anchoring, and stabilizing. Both keep the world alive.
Why She Resonates mid-20s
Cleopatra is one-of-one in history. But she isn’t proof of what only she could do—she’s proof of what women can do, if they want to.
Her story reminds us that exile can become reinvention. Adaptation is leverage. Alliances are useful but not everything. Culture builds legitimacy. Narrative builds power. Gambles are unavoidable. And the form of power you choose matters less than the fact that you know you hold it.
All love. McC.