Finding Freedom After Retirement: Lessons from Three Extraordinary Women

Retirement often feels like entering a new world with different rules. While our own minds or society may suggest we now face boundaries—health limitations, financial realities, expectations about what "retired people" should do—the truth is quite different. There are, in fact, no boundaries. Retirement offers us perhaps even enhanced choices about how we'll live, what we'll pursue, and what mark we'll leave.

Three extraordinary women from history understood the power of rejecting imposed limitations. Living in eras when women had virtually no control over whom they married, where they lived, or what roles they could assume, they nevertheless found ways to exercise their intellect, political acumen, and creativity. They thrived by identifying the spaces where they could act—and then acting boldly.

Only one was technically a queen. Gulbadan Begum was a Mughal princess, and Nur Jahan was an empress—in fact, the only empress to rule the Mughal Empire. Yet all three share something crucial: they refused to let circumstances define the boundaries of what they could achieve.

Cleopatra Selene II transformed captivity and exile into an opportunity to build a prosperous kingdom.

Gulbadan Begum, confined to a walled harem in middle age after an adventurous youth, waited until her fifties to lead an unprecedented pilgrimage and became the only female historian of the Mughal Empire.

Nur Jahan didn't gain power until age 34—and became the most powerful woman in Mughal history, effectively ruling an empire for sixteen years.

Their message to those of us in retirement? If women in extreme environments with total restrictions over their freedom, whom they would marry, and their roles could still excel—how much more can we accomplish when we recognize that our perceived boundaries are often illusions?

Cleopatra Selene II: Making the Best of a Bad Situation

Whenever we hear the name Cleopatra, we think of Cleopatra VII and Mark Antony—the legendary romance that ended in tragedy. But Cleopatra VII's daughter, Cleopatra Selene II, lived a story equally dramatic, though far less known.

Born in 40 BCE as the only daughter of Cleopatra VII and Mark Antony, Selene was a twin. Her name derived from the Greek word for "moon," while her twin brother was named Alexander Helios, meaning "sun." The symbolism was intentional—great things were expected of both children.

Those expectations were shattered when Rome conquered Egypt. After the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE, Octavian (later Emperor Augustus) invaded Egypt. Cleopatra and Mark Antony committed suicide. Their eldest son Caesarion, Cleopatra's child with Julius Caesar, was executed. Ten-year-old Cleopatra Selene and her twin brother were captured and brought to Rome, where they were paraded through the streets in heavy golden chains during Octavian's triumph, dressed as the moon and sun, walking beside an effigy of their dead mother.

It was a humiliating start to what could have been a miserable life. The twins were prisoners, their parents dead, their kingdom destroyed. Yet Cleopatra Selene was raised in the household of Octavia, Mark Antony's fourth wife and Octavian's sister—a woman who showed the children kindness despite their fathers' bitter rivalry.

Around 25 BCE, when Selene was about fifteen, Augustus arranged her marriage to Juba II, son of a deposed Numidian king who had also been raised in Rome. The emperor installed them as client rulers of Mauretania, a vast territory encompassing modern-day Algeria and Morocco.

This is where Selene's story transforms from tragic to triumphant.

Although Juba was nominally king, Cleopatra Selene had actually reigned as Queen of Egypt in 30 BCE, if only briefly, and had been declared Queen of Crete and Cyrenaica in 34 BCE. She brought genuine royal experience to the role. For the next twenty years, she co-ruled with intelligence and vision.

She implemented policies that promoted economic growth, infrastructure development, and cultural exchange. Her court at Caesarea (modern Cherchell in Algeria) became a center of intellectualism, attracting philosophers, scholars, and artists from various corners of the Roman Empire. Under her leadership, Mauretania increased its integration into Mediterranean trade networks, exporting grain, figs, fish, pearls, timber, and the highly valued purple dye extracted from shellfish.

Selene embraced her dual heritage brilliantly. She brought a decidedly Greco-Egyptian flavor to Mauretania, blending it with local Berber and Phoenician influences. Egyptian iconography like sphinxes appeared alongside Greek art and Roman architectural designs. Coins from her reign portrayed her with the title "Kleopatra basilissa" (Queen Cleopatra) written in Greek, echoing her mother's legacy, while featuring Egyptian symbols like crocodiles and the rearing cobra that symbolized Egyptian kingship.

Perhaps most telling: she named her son Ptolemy, honoring her mother's family with no reference to Juba's heritage whatsoever—a startling assertion of power and identity in the ancient world.

Cleopatra Selene died around 5 BCE, probably in her early thirties. She was buried in the Royal Mausoleum of Mauretania, which still stands today in Cherchell, Algeria.

The Retirement Lesson: Cleopatra Selene faced circumstances that would have broken most people—orphaned, exiled, paraded as a prisoner, married off for political convenience. Yet she recognized that even within constraints, she had choices. Like retirees who find themselves in unexpected circumstances—a forced retirement, a necessary move, health setbacks—she could have merely survived. Instead, she thrived. She built something remarkable not by denying her past, but by integrating it into her new reality. She turned exile into empire.

Cleopatra Selene*

Gulbadan Begum: The Vagabond Princess

Note: The word "Begum" denotes a Muslim lady of high rank.

Gulbadan Begum's name is virtually unknown in the West, yet she led one of the most extraordinary lives of the 16th century. Born in 1523 as the daughter of Babur, founder of the Mughal Empire, she spent her childhood in the exhilarating, nomadic life of early Mughal rule, moving between Kabul and northern India as her father expanded his territory.

Raised within the urbanity of Persian culture and deeply erudite warlike society, young Gulbadan witnessed her father's death in 1530 and the tumultuous early years of her nephew Akbar's reign. Those early years of freedom and adventure shaped her profoundly.

But as the Mughal Empire consolidated, life changed dramatically for royal women. Gulbadan found herself confined within the red sandstone walls of Fatehpur Sikri, in the walled harem established by her nephew Akbar to showcase his authority as the Great Emperor. While court chroniclers praised the harem as offering women "surprising opportunities—wide horizons behind high walls," Gulbadan longed for the free-floating, adventurous life she'd known in her youth.

She had lived decades in opulent confinement, with no freedom except that granted by the Mughal ruler over where she lived, whom she married, and her activities. For many women, that would have been the end of the story.

But not for Gulbadan.

In her fifties, she approached Akbar with an audacious proposal: she wanted to lead a group of royal women on a pilgrimage to Mecca. While individual women often accompanied men on pilgrimage to Islam's holy cities, it was virtually unheard of for a group of women to make such a journey independently.

Akbar granted permission. In October 1576, at age 53, Gulbadan led twelve other "Holy Presences" from the harem. The group included Akbar's wife Salima, women in their seventies, and servants who had been with the family for decades. It was an unprecedented expedition.

The journey was far from simple. They faced difficulties obtaining travel passes from the Portuguese, and Gulbadan reportedly gave one of her estates to secure safe passage. They sailed from Surat in spring 1577, and what was planned as a pilgrimage became an epic odyssey lasting over three and a half years.

What happened in Mecca was remarkable. Gulbadan and her party caused such a sensation with their extreme generosity and charity, becoming "a prominent spectacle in public places," that they were perceived as a threat by Ottoman Sultan Murad III. In the complex politics of three competing Islamic empires—the Ottomans, Safavids, and Mughals—the Ottoman sultan, who claimed authority as Caliph, felt his position challenged by these munificent Mughal women.

The Ottoman authorities issued at least five orders kept in the National Archives in Istanbul, commanding the sherif of Mecca to expel these ladies for creating "fitna" (chaos)—their un-Islamic behavior threatening the sultan's religious authority. They were kicked out.

But even expulsion couldn't dampen Gulbadan's spirit. The group was shipwrecked in Aden and stranded for many months before finally making their way home. By the time they returned, they had been gone for over four years—an extraordinary period of relative independence for women of the Mughal court.

Gulbadan lived into her eighties, dying in 1603. But perhaps her greatest contribution came after her return. When Akbar commissioned a monumental history of the Mughal Empire in 1587, he asked Gulbadan to contribute her recollections. What she produced was unprecedented: the first prose history of the empire, the only extant work of prose by a woman of the Mughal era.

She called it "Ahval-i Humayun Badshah" (Conditions in the Age of Humayun). Unlike the formal chronicles written by male court historians, Gulbadan's writing was a constellation of memories, offering intimate glimpses of domestic life and the character of the empire as it took shape. Her unique voice preserved details no official chronicler would have noticed or valued.

The Retirement Lesson: Gulbadan spent her middle years in comfortable but constrained circumstances, longing for the freedom of her youth. Many retirees feel similarly—remembering more adventurous decades and assuming those days are gone. But Gulbadan proved that yearning for the past doesn't have to mean passive nostalgia. At 53, she turned longing into action. She didn't have unlimited freedom—she needed permission, faced political obstacles, and was eventually expelled from her destination. Yet she went anyway. And in doing so, she reclaimed her sense of self, led other women to their own adventure, and ultimately became the voice that preserved her family's history for future generations. The pilgrimage lasted three and a half years. How are you planning to spend your next three and a half years?

Nur Jahan: The Empress Who Proved It's Never Too Late

Nur Jahan's story resonates particularly with those entering new chapters of life. Born as Mehr-un-Nissa in 1577 in Kandahar (present-day Afghanistan) to a family of Persian nobility, her early life was far from privileged. According to legend, she was born in a caravan traveling from Tehran to India as her parents fled to seek their fortune at the Mughal court. When the caravan was attacked by bandits, the infant was temporarily abandoned before being retrieved and returned to her family.

She married an Iranian-born Mughal official named Sher Afghan in 1594 and had one daughter, Ladli Begum. When Sher Afghan was killed in 1607 during a political altercation, Mehr-un-Nissa found herself a widow at about thirty, with a young daughter to raise.

She was brought to the Mughal court in Agra and served as a lady-in-waiting to Dowager Empress Ruqaiya Sultan Begum for four years. She could have remained in that role for the rest of her life—respectable, secure, but relatively powerless.

Then, in 1611, at age 34, Emperor Jahangir noticed her and they married. She became his twentieth and final wife. Jahangir gave her the name "Nur Jahan," meaning "Light of the World."

What happened next was unprecedented in Mughal history.

Jahangir was intelligent and cultured, but he had severe addictions to alcohol and opium and struggled with frequent illness. His trust in Nur Jahan was so great that he gave her the imperial seal, meaning her consent was necessary before any document or order received legal validity. For the next sixteen years, until Jahangir's death in 1627, Nur Jahan effectively ruled the Mughal Empire.

She issued royal decrees and minted coins in her own name—privileges typically reserved only for sovereigns, not consorts. She was the only Mughal empress to achieve such power, becoming the de facto ruler of one of the world's great empires.

Her accomplishments were staggering. She owned jagirs (estates) that generated substantial revenues, which she invested in trade and architecture. She owned ships that conducted maritime trade in luxury goods like indigo and embroidered cloth from Surat to Arabian coasts. Politically astute, she favored British traders over the Portuguese, understanding the rivalry and choosing allies who would allow her ships to sail smoothly.

She built magnificent sarais—roadside inns for the exchange of goods—at Jalandhar and Agra, bearing the entire expense herself. These structures reflected her immense wealth and served the empire's growing trade networks.

Her cultural contributions were equally impressive. She commissioned the Tomb of I'timād-ud-Daulah for her father, a masterpiece that combined Persian and Indian architectural styles. She designed the Mughal gardens of Kashmir and Agra using Persian-inspired layouts with flowing streams and disciplined geometry.

Nur Jahan took special interest in women's welfare, providing land for women and opportunities for orphan girls. Coming from a line of poets, she encouraged the women of the court to write and share their poetry.

She made a conscious decision to leave her mark on history. Her name appeared as "Nur Jahan, the Queen Begum" on all official letters and grants sent with the emperor's name. Art historians recognize a painting held at the Rampur Raza library, created between 1612-1617, showing Nur Jahan holding a gun—a powerful symbol of her authority and capability.

When Jahangir died in 1627, Nur Jahan was about fifty. She backed her son-in-law Shahryar in the succession war, hoping to maintain influence through her daughter becoming empress. However, she was outmaneuvered by her own brother Asaf Khan, who supported Shah Jahan. Nur Jahan lost the political battle and spent her remaining years in Lahore with her daughter, dying in 1645 at about sixty-eight.

Yet those final eighteen years of retirement from power don't diminish her legacy. She was a Shia married to a Sunni Muslim who was half Hindu Rajput, embodying the multicultural character of Mughal India. She is considered one of the great Mughals of India—an inspiring female sovereign.

The Retirement Lesson: Nur Jahan didn't achieve power, wealth, or influence until her mid-thirties—middle-aged by the standards of her time. She could have accepted a quiet life as one of many wives, grateful for security. Instead, when opportunity arose, she seized it completely. She proved that taking on new responsibilities at an "advanced" age can lead to your greatest achievements. Her sixteen years of rule accomplished more than many accomplish in a lifetime. And when she lost political power at fifty, she didn't disappear—she lived nearly two more decades, her legacy already secured. How many of us write off our potential because we think we're "too old" to start something significant?

Nur Jahan*

Conclusion: Your Turn

Cleopatra Selene transformed captivity into kingdom-building. Gulbadan Begum turned middle-aged longing into epic adventure and became her empire's historian. Nur Jahan rose from widowhood to rule an empire, achieving what no other woman in Mughal history accomplished.

These three women lived in societies that told them exactly what they could and couldn't do. They were told where to live, whom to marry, what roles to accept. Their freedoms were far more constrained than anything most modern retirees face.

Yet they didn't accept those limitations as final truths.

The boundaries we perceive in retirement—age, health, finances, social expectations—are often more flexible than we imagine. These three women proved that extraordinary achievement isn't about having perfect circumstances. It's about recognizing that even within constraints, we have choices. And those choices matter.

Cleopatra Selene was a prisoner who became a prosperous queen. Gulbadan was a confined princess who became an adventurer and historian. Nur Jahan was a widowed lady-in-waiting who became an empress.

What will you become?

Your retirement isn't an ending or a withdrawal. It's your chance to identify where you

can act—and then act boldly. The question isn't whether you have limitations. The question is: within whatever circumstances you face, what will you build? What mark will you leave? What adventure will you claim?

These three extraordinary women already answered that question for themselves, living centuries ago in far more restrictive times.

NOW IT'S YOUR TURN!!!!

*images, citation. The trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons attribution, non-commercial share.