c. 1505–1558

Roksolana

Wife of Sultan Suleiman I

Statesman

How did a girl from Rus’, sold at an Istanbul slave market, become the lawful wife of Sultan Suleiman I and the mother of Sultan Selim II? Less is known about the real Roksolana than the legends tell.

Key accomplishments

  • The first for whom the Ottoman title “haseki,” meaning “favorite sultana,” was created
  • Won a lawful marriage to Sultan Suleiman I (probably in the 1530s)
  • Mother of Sultan Selim II
  • Founder of mosques, a women’s hospital, schools and soup kitchens for the poor in Istanbul, Edirne, Jerusalem, Mecca and Medina

How does a slave become a sultana?

Nobody knows her real name. Venetian diplomats in Istanbul wrote that she was “from Rus’,” and Michalo Lituanus wrote that she had been taken captive by the Crimean Tatars. The girl, born around 1505, was probably sold at a slave market in Istanbul, and that is how she came into the harem of Sultan Suleiman I.

In the harem she was named Hürrem, Persian for “joy.” The title “haseki,” meaning “favorite sultana,” was created for her first. The dynasty’s customs allowed a concubine only one son, yet she bore Suleiman six children. Probably in the 1530s the sultan took her as his lawful wife.

Power that left no paper trail

There is no direct evidence of her role in politics. Her daughter married Rüstem Pasha, who became grand vizier in 1544. It seems that, together with him, Roksolana convinced the sultan that Prince Mustafa, the son of another concubine, was after the throne; in 1553 Mustafa was executed. Roksolana died in 1558, and after Suleiman the throne passed to her son Selim II. She founded mosques, a women’s hospital, schools and soup kitchens for the poor, from Istanbul and Edirne to Jerusalem, Mecca and Medina.

Debates and assessments

Her origin in Rohatyn is the traditional version, given by the Polish diplomat Samuel Twardowski in the 17th century. The names Nastia Lisovska or Oleksandra appeared only in the 19th century and have no reliable evidence behind them.

Her example began a period when women of the sultan’s family influenced politics, which historians call the “Sultanate of Women.” The Habsburg ambassador Busbecq portrayed her as a witch and a schemer, and that image long prevailed in Europe.

Ukrainian writers from the 19th century on, by contrast, cast her as a patriot and even a defender of Ukraine, although the sources don’t confirm it. Novels, a TV series (1996–2003) and a monument in Rohatyn (1999) reinforced this image; historians criticize it as unrealistic. Even all the known portraits of Roksolana, including the earliest, by Titian (around 1552), come from the artists’ imagination.

Why her story matters today

Roksolana’s fate is a reminder of the Ukrainians who in those times were taken captive and sold into slavery. Her story also teaches us to tell facts from legends.