Odds and Ends

It’s time for another housekeeping post, in which I catalog what I’ve recently read and am currently reading and occasionally diverge into events of my personal life. Let’s get to it!

I recently finished Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, the earth-shattering compilation of poetry, prose, and in-between writings of those somewhere along the gender spectrum or outside the gender binary speaking about their experiences pertaining to that positioning. Or, at least, it would be earth-shattering if more people knew about it. Despite its being published seven years ago now, and despite its being edited by such a well-known author and activist as Kate Bornstein (with the indispensable help of trans writer and theater artist S. Bear Bergman), and despite its being relevant to one of the foremost debates in this country at this time over the politics of gender identity, the book was entirely unknown to me before it arrived on my doorstep. Truth be told, I bought it thinking I was purchasing an updated version of Gender Outlaw, and was more than pleasantly surprised when I saw the diversity of form, perspective, and background of the contributing authors. And it was extra special to see the work of someone I knew personally through an an early music a cappella group we were both a part of in my first semester of college. I was thoroughly impressed with the book, and would love to work in some of this complex perspectives on trans+/gender non-conforming/other-gender identities into my eventual thesis. Thanks to Seal Press for bringing this book to life and to my attention–I have a feeling I will be rereading these stories for personal benefit for years to come.

Today, I also finished Thea Hillman’s collection of short essays on her intersex identity relates to her politics in romance, family, and society: Intersex (for lack of a better word.) The essays (which evolved into poetry at the very end) ranged from heart-wrenching to heartwarming, and I enjoyed the act of reading all of them, including the ones that left me aching for the sorrow or enraged for the divisiveness of some members of the trans+ community. I also had the surprisingly uncomfortable experience of reading about a location in one of the stories and realizing it was one I had passed countless times, having grown up in nearly the same neighborhood as the author. It was nice to learn that Hillman received a Master’s degree from and served on the Board of the college I will (hopfeully) be attending in the spring.

Separately, I am knee-deep in Julia Serano’s Whipping Girl, and let’s just say I’m excited to write another masterpost once I’ve finished hearing what she has to say. I think it would be interesting to write on my experience of Whipping Girl as an audiobook read by the author, having the words literally coming from her own mouth. More to come on this.

I also attended the San Francisco Trans March last Saturday. This was my second time at the event, and I was once again impressed by the out-and-proud displays of trans+ folk and allies from the Bay Area and beyond. But the event coincided with many of my conflicting thoughts surrounding the trans ‘community’ and the ‘trans-‘ label itself coming to a head. I am not at a point where expressing these thoughts in writing will be helpful to me, but I hope to eventually reach that point.

In objectively happier news, I’ll be collecting four books from the university library next week. Among these are the predictable Gender Trouble by Judith Butler, Female Masculinities by Jack Halberstam, and the medieval text Ami et Amile. The unexpected party guest is Histoire des transsexuels en France by Maxime Foerster. I know nothing about this book beyond the title and that it was the only result returned in my search for the terms ‘transgender,’ ‘history,’ and ‘france’ at once. I can only access Le Roman de la Rose inside the library itself, and consequently it has its own events on my Google Calendar.

That’s all for now! Fingers crossed that I can produce an acceptable paper proposal for the Institut de Genre (the organization that put out the call for papers) before July 10.

Silence and the Next Generation

Yesterday, I completed my first reading of Sarah Roche-Mahdi’s translation of Silence, a thirteenth-century French-language romance by one Heldris of Cornwall. The romance charts the story of Silentius/ia, a person of fluctuating gender presentation and identity. S/he is born to royal parents who decide to present their child as a boy to the kingdom. The reigning monarch has forbade women from inheriting property in his land, and so it behooves the child to present as a man. The narrator is aware of a possible contradiction between identity and presentation, referring to Silentius/ia (often simply referred to as Silence) as “the boy who was a girl” and variations thereof. The narrator switches between he/him and she/her pronouns for Silence whenever (presumably) he thinks it appropriate. This manifests when the child, having entered puberty, becomes the subject of a spirited debate between Nature and Nurture, both allegorical figures in the story. Nature would like for Silence to act “according to her nature” and engage in activities typical of young medieval women (spinning thread and staying out of the sun.) But Nurture, a figure representing the process that we today might call socialization, pushes Silence to continue living as a man–this s/he does to great success. Silence is skilled in minstrelsy, jousting, and warfare–all typically mens’ activities. S/he inspires a queen’s lust, traps the wizard Merlin, and reverses the law against women’s property rights. Oh, and s/he becomes Queen of England. While Silence is an altogether fanciful tale, I believe the author raises some serious questions about gender roles and inequalities as well as the smoke and mirrors of gender presentation. I’m not at a point in my analysis where I think I understand the author’s stance on the questions (presumed) he raises, not to mention my own opinion. More later when I reach that point.

Also, I began the sequel-of-sorts to Kate Bornstein’s Gender Outlaw, titled Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation. This work is a collection of perspectives from both established and emerging gender outlaws, edited by Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman. I’ve read nearly four perspectives thus far, and find each to be rich and illuminating. I’m excited to read the rest, as well as to track down my next two medieval targets: le Roman d’Eneas and Grisandole.