Before We Were Trans

It's been a long time since I've had the time and calm to read a book cover to cover in just a few days.  (And a really long time since I've made a post about a book on this blog.)  Maybe both can happen more regularly in 2023 and beyond.  Theresa sent me a pic of the cover of Kit Heyam's Before We Were Trans a few weeks ago.  I looked for a quick/affordable way to access it and ended up tacking it onto our Walmart order.  It arrived the day my overseas friends were leaving, during these few weeks I have in between ending a position at one local college and starting a new position at the other.  

Along with time and calm to read, I've been yearning for history that includes queers.  Before We Were Trans is a nice summary and commentary on both trans and history conversations in general.  I highlighted a Leslie Feinberg quote that Heyam shares in the Introduction: "we should aspire...to be the best fighters against each other's oppression, and in doing so, build links of solidarity and trust that will forge an invincible movement against all forms of injustice and inequality" (18).  I was introduced to Feinberg in the aisles of the Oberlin College library and was warmed to circle back to hir here.  I also love this wiki excerpt that I came across now when I googled for the correct pronouns to use when writing about Feinberg: 

Pronoun usage[edit]

Feinberg stated in a 2006 interview that her pronouns varied depending on context:

For me, pronouns are always placed within context. I am female-bodied, I am a butch lesbian, a transgender lesbian—referring to me as "she/her" is appropriate, particularly in a non-trans setting in which referring to me as "he" would appear to resolve the social contradiction between my birth sex and gender expression and render my transgender expression invisible. I like the gender neutral pronoun "ze/hir" because it makes it impossible to hold on to gender/sex/sexuality assumptions about a person you're about to meet or you've just met. And in an all trans setting, referring to me as "he/him" honors my gender expression in the same way that referring to my sister drag queens as "she/her" does.

— Leslie Feinberg, 2006^[3][22]

Feinberg's widow wrote in her statement regarding Feinberg's death that Feinberg did not really care which pronouns a person used to address her: "She preferred to use the pronouns she/zie and her/hir for herself, but also said: 'I care which pronoun is used, but people have been respectful to me with the wrong pronoun and disrespectful with the right one. It matters whether someone is using the pronoun as a bigot, or if they are trying to demonstrate respect.'"^[5]

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A couple quotes from Heyam's "Author's note" of Before We Were Trans:

"In writing this book, I was keen to do something different: to write a trans history that made space for complex and messy gendered experiences, and that had care and ethics at its heart, prioritizing the dignity and humanity of people in the past and the present" (29). 

"I've chosen to use they/them pronouns to refer to the majority of the people in this book...avoiding presumption of gender...and...emphasizing the multiplicity and plurality of these people's genders" (29-30). 

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I want to do more of this in my own life--acknowledge and allow for the complexity and mess in all lives, including my own, prioritize respect and kindness, and use they/them pronouns.   These are not new values, and yet aren't always as easy to practice as it seems they should be-- to allow mess, to find kind and calm ways to respond when feeling disrespected or stressed, to use they as the default when that hasn't been the habit.  It will take time and collective intention.  

It was helpful to read a book that used they/them pronouns in the way I want to use them more--not to erase someone's gender, but to avoid assumption and allow for evolution.

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An email thread from last March in response to a friend's text:

IMO, using/acknowledging someone else's preferred pronouns is what is most important.  ("Thanks for asking; it's always okay to ask" a transgender employee at the farm told me several years back.)

I see the trend of including your pronouns in your introductions with your email signature as a safety pin. ("In general, people wear safety pins as "a symbol of solidarity" with those who are marginalized. It's an albeit superficial way to say those people are "safe" with the pin wearer. Whether that display of solidarity is enough these days is another issue.")  I do think including your pronouns in your introduction or signature can help people know you are an ally and open the door for them to feel safe sharing their true gender/pronouns with you.  I also think that action makes an assumption about the importance of pronouns to all queer people.  Personally, I'm pretty indifferent about my pronouns, but I am comfortable in the body I was born with and have never needed to ask to be seen and spoken of differently.  Similarly, I have heard Native people express complicated thoughts/feelings around land acknowledgements.

Maybe I'll turn this email thread into a blogpost someday.  You are not the first person to come to me with these questions, so it would be helpful to be able to answer with a link. I share my gender/pronouns when asked, but don't have them in my tagline because they are evolving and sacred and deserving of context.  

reply: This! This is how I feel too. Like, it's complicated! I don't have/want a tagline either, but I can see why other people do and respect that as well. Lately I've been feeling pressure to have one - I worry that by not having one I am refusing to show my support. But now that I think about it, I'm sure I can add a small rainbow emoji and that will do well enough.

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Like, it's complicated  

The people I met in Before We Were Trans I didn't always like.  The lives of Njinga and Ahebi in particular stick with me, the traumas they faced, their resistance of and collaboration with Europeans.  There were relations they helped/saved and relations that suffered/died under their leadership.   They were complicated people with complicated lives, living in incredibly complicated times.  Their stories put the dramas of our present day into perspective -AND- all of us are capable of helping or harming the lives around us and probably do some of both.  Including RuPaul, who Heyam did not show any love for in this book.  Throughout the book, Heyman will occasionally include social media commentary.  Sometimes I thought it provided interesting context, other times I found it annoying and incomplete, in particular the commentary on the reality TV show RuPaul's Drag Race (which I really enjoy watching).  Beyond what Heyam shares on p. 96-97 you can read more about the dislike between Carmen Carrera and RuPaul here or watch some episodes of Drag Race if you feel like taking a side.  At the very least, I recommend reading this article on the 10 Trans Queens That Made History On 'RuPaul's Drag Race' in the U.S..  Ru might not be popular or liked by all trans people, but I’ve seen real love between Ru and the openly trans queens of the more recent seasons.  In history, in reality TV, in this blogpost, in community, there will always be people who rub each other wrong, and that's okay.  Mii-go maanoo --it's okay, let it be-- is an Ojibwe phrase my friend Clarissa Bressette taught me last winter and that I try to channel.

In the Epilogue of Before We Were Trans, Heyam shares a love scene from a favorite novel and then comments: "This true and complete appreciation of the unfamiliar gendered experience of another: this is the future I want, both for our society and for our way of doing history" (229).  This is part of what I love about watching Drag Race and other drag reality shows, like We're Here and Queen of the Universe--  I am not someone who is interested in wearing make-up or wigs or fancy clothes, in acting or singing or dancing on stage, but I love getting to know these people who do it so well and sharing one big beautiful messy community with them all.