In the 1890s, German medical doctor Magnus Hirschfield noticed a disturbing trend among his homosexual patients. Many of them attempted suicide, and many more bore scars from suicide attempts. When one young military man left behind a suicide note urging Dr. Hirschfield to “contribute a future when the German fatherland will think of us in more just terms,” Hirschfield embarked upon his life’s work of advancing sexual science and devoting himself to sexual rights activism. He founded the Scientific-Humanitarian Committee in 1897 to defend gay rights and work against societal hostility toward homosexuals. Around 1904, Hirschfield was called to consult on the case of a suicidal man who had been hospitalized after an electrical accident. This turned out to be one Martha Baer, who had been raised as a woman but had chosen to express himself as a man and go by the name Karl. Karl Baer was not a female-to-male transgender person as we would recognize one today. In fact, he had been born biologically male, but due to the relatively common birth defect known as hypospadias, in which the urethral opening forms somewhere other than the tip of the penis, his sex was misidentified. Raised as a girl, this erroneous gender assignment caused him especially great distress after puberty, when he began to grow body and facial hair. His sexual attraction toward women led him to identify as a lesbian, and eventually to identify as a man. Dr. Hirschfield diagnosed Karl Baer’s gender misidentification based on biology, performed corrective surgery, and helped Baer obtain official gender reassignment in the eyes of the law. While this surgery was essentially a hypospadias repair, it is viewed by many as the first gender reassignment surgery, and certainly Dr. Hirschfield went on to advance social and medical knowledge of intersex individuals as well as cases of what he would call transvestism and transsexuality. At his Institute for Sexual Research in Berlin, Hirschfield provided counseling and treatment for a wide variety of people struggling with their sexualities and gender identities. While he still often viewed transgender individuals as suffering from a physical or psychological disorder, he pushed for reform and understanding and was in many ways ahead of his time. Unsurprisingly, his work was not popular with the Nazis, who shut down his institute in 1933. While in exile in Paris, at a cinema, Magnus Hirschfield had the distinct displeasure of watching a newsreel in which fascists plundered his institute and burned his life’s work. Today, many conservative and religious ideologues justify their intolerance of and opposition to transgender rights by claiming that it is a modern phenomenon, a symptom of liberal decadence, but in truth there is nothing new about transgender identity, just as there is nothing new about blaming changing gender notions on societal decadence. But in many cases, as in the case of Hirschfield’s institute, this history has been erased by the intolerant.

This post started out as another survey, this time listing and discussing all the transgender figures in history in an effort to demonstrate the ubiquity of the phenomenon throughout history. I envisioned it as a refutation of the critics who try to assert that this is a new phenomenon. However, what I found is that this is a difficult task. No doubt, it is an easy thing to turn up lists of historical figures who have been embraced as forerunners by the transgender community. But I feel compelled to dig deeper and consider some further points. First, we would today recognize an entire spectrum of subsets within the term “transgender.” Dr. Hirschfield rightly recognized transvestites, or “cross-dressers” –people who were comfortable with their biological sex but enjoyed dressing in clothes typically reserved for the opposite sex—as separate from transexuals, or those who longed to live entirely as a member of the sex they were not assigned at birth, or even to surgically alter their biological sex in order to more fully realize this desire. Our modern terminology did not arrive until the 1960s, when psychiatrist Robert Stoller began using terms like “gender identity” and “gender assignment.” The term “transgender” wasn’t coined until 1970 by activist Virginia Prince and was originally used to denote heterosexual transvestites. Today, the term is used more generally as an umbrella term, including those who identify genderfluid and non-binary or genderqueer. We now recognize sex assigned at birth and gender identity as just two elements in a larger spectrum of personal identity, which also includes gender expression, and sexual orientation, which itself can be further broken down into physical attraction versus emotional attraction. This evolution of our terminology and understanding of personal identity is what complicates our ability to identify trans figures in history. If we use it as an umbrella term, then it’s more simple. Any persons in history whose outward gender expression is recorded as being at variance with their birth-assigned sex can comfortably be labeled transgender. However, the critics of trans rights typically aren’t denying the presence in history of figures known to have dressed in the clothing their society reserved for the opposite sex. So it would seem some further differentiation and categorization is needed to refute those who desire to erase trans people from history. For example, everyone is familiar with the legends of Joan of Arc and Mulan, women who dressed as men in order to fight as soldiers. Few would argue that they are transgender figures, a fact that clearly indicates how important motivation is to making such an identification. The fact is that it is very difficult to discern what motivated gender transgressive behavior by historical figures, especially past a certain point in time, when polite society dictated that people should not speak or write about such matters. Thus we are left with only inferences and educated guesses. For example, there were many women who dressed as men in order to fight in the American Civil War, but one in particular, Albert Cashier, might be differentiated from the others and from figures like Mulan and Joan of Arc as well, for he chose to live as a man for more than fifty years, long after the conclusion of the war.

19th century depiction of Elagabalus in priestly vestments. Public Domain.

So to discern whether a given figure may reasonably be raised as an example of a transgender individual, we must scour the historical record for evidence of their motivations for gender transgressive behaviors like transvestism or for some indications of their feelings about their gender identities. Another problem that a historian faces in attempting this is the reliability of the primary sources that may give us such evidence. A perfect example of this difficulty is Varius Avitus Bassianus, who in 218 CE, amid a rebellion against Roman Emperor Macrinus, was raised up as a figurehead emperor at just 14 years old, taking the name Elagabalus. As the story is told, this emperor, assigned male at birth, alienated the aristocracy by dressing in clothing considered suitable only for women, by painting his face and wearing jewelry in an effeminate manner. It is even asserted that he wanted to be addressed as a woman, stating, “Call me not Lord, for I am a Lady,” and promised generous rewards for any physician who could surgically alter his genitals to be like those of a woman. This certainly sounds like a clear example of not just an ancient historical figure who identified as being of a gender opposite to the one assigned him at birth, but also of a trans person seeking gender reassignment surgery long before any such procedures had ever been invented. In my view, this is a strong argument for the presence of trans people throughout human history. The problem for the conscientious historian, however, is that the three primary sources from which all of this information about Elagabalus is gleaned, the works of Cassius Dio, Herodian, and his biography in the Roman collection of biographies, Historia Augusta, are all manifestly hostile toward Elagabalus, written by contemporaries who had been alienated, like so many others in his realm, by Elagabalus’s religious practices. So unhappy were the Roman elite with young Elagabalus as a figurehead that they ended up having him murdered within a few years of installing him, and his biographers in some passages include manifestly fictitious accounts of his outrages. As such, the accounts of this Roman Emperor’s gender transgressions may or may not be true.

Long before the terms “transexual” or “transgender,” the Age of Enlightenment gave the western world the term “Eonism” to describe such transgression of gender norms. The origin of this term, a remarkable person named Chevalier d’Eon, serves as the perfect example of both the presence of transgender figures in our historical past as well as the inadequacy of the historical record in helping us determine with any certainty the true feelings of historical trans figures regarding their gender identities. As such, the remainder of this episode will be devoted to this unusual and fascinating individual. Born Charles-Geneviève-Louis-Auguste-André-Timothée d'Éon de Beaumont to a noble but not a wealthy family in 1728, he lived his life as a young man, and thus I will refer to him using the masculine pronoun for now, for clarity’s sake. A gifted scholar, he graduated as a student of civil and canon law at 21 years old, in 1749, and embarked on a political career as a secretary to a series of administrators before being appointed a royal censor. In this role, he read literature and history extensively, but rather than working to ban books, he appears to have spent his time acquainting himself with the most current Enlightenment thinkers. He began to develop political philosophies of his own, which tended toward the idea of benevolent despotism, that absolute monarchs were the ideal agents of progressive reform, taking power away from the aristocracy and the church and imposing policies inspired by Enlightenment principles. With such an ideology, it’s no surprise that he sought to serve the purposes of King Louis XV by entering the diplomatic corps and working with the French Ambassador to Russia for a few years. Despite being of slight build and a “pretty boy,” as some described him, he thereafter entered military service during the Seven Years’ War between Britain and France, serving as dragoon and sustaining an injury. He was afterward sent to London, appointed secretary to the ambassador negotiating the Treaty of Paris that would end the Seven Years’ War. For his service in drafting this treaty, he would be awarded a knighthood, earning the title Chevalier. Throughout his military career and during his years living in London, despite his slender frame and somewhat effeminate beauty, d’Eon earned himself a reputation as a manly fellow. He always went about in his dragoon’s uniform, always proudly defended his own reputation and honor, and eagerly escalated personal conflicts by frequently challenging other men to duels, as though to prove his own manhood. This aspect of his character is especially interesting considering what would later be revealed.

Chevalier D'Éon, as a younger man. Mezzotint by Vispré. Credit: Wellcome Collection. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)

Outwardly, Chevalier d’Eon was a rousing success in London. After the signing of the Treaty of Paris, d’Eon returned to London to take charge of diplomatic affairs between the two nations, being promoted to the position of plenipotentiary minister during an interim period when the previous ambassador had returned to Paris and a replacement had yet to be appointed. Chevalier d’Eon was a fixture of King George III’s court and made numerous social connections among the English nobility. He was living a life of luxury, rubbing elbows with the wealthy and powerful. But then the rug was pulled out from under him. A new ambassador arrived, the Comte de Guerchy, whom d’Eon thought of as inferior in intellect. D’Eon was knocked back down to the role of secretary, a regression that caused d’Eon keen humiliation. Brazenly, d’Eon refused to step down from his post, and the newspaper coverage of d’Eon’s defiance was widely read because of just how entertaining it was. When pestered by an agent of Geurchy, the newly appointed ambassador, d’Eon refused to grant him an audience because he was not highborn and challenged him to a duel when the agent persisted. This set off a pamphlet war, with Guerchy denouncing d’Eon’s refusal to step down and d’Eon, explosively, claiming that Guerchy had tried to drug him, kidnap him, and have him murdered. Indeed, d’Eon even pressed charges against Guerchy for attempting to have him assassinated, a legal action which Guerchy tried unsuccessfully to have nullified. Amid this feud, Chevalier d’Eon published Guerchy’s private correspondence, seemingly to embarrass him. In retaliation, Guerchy had d’Eon charged with libel in France, where of course d’Eon refused to return, thereby making d’Eon an outlaw in his home country. In England, however, d’Eon still enjoyed wide support. King George III refused his extradition, and the public, reading about d’Eon’s stand against his king in newspapers that portrayed his struggle sympathetically, began to view him as a hero of the people, pushing back against royal abuses of power. He was compared with Britain’s own John Wilkes, a radical journalist who around the same time had made enemies of king and prime minister alike and had likewise been transformed into an outlaw who enjoyed popular support. But there was more to all of this than the public was aware. Chevalier d’Eon’s publication of private papers was, unbeknownst to all, a powerful message to King Louis XV. It was, in fact, an overt threat, for Chevalier d’Eon kept a volatile secret that the King of France could not afford to see revealed.

We know now that, even before his work as a secretary to the Ambassador to St. Petersburg, a young Chevalier d’Eon had been enlisted into King Louis XV’s espionage service, “Le Secret du Roi,” or the King’s Secret. In general, this spy organization within the diplomatic corps was tasked with gathering foreign intelligence and working for the king’s purposes even when they were at cross-purposes with the goals his diplomats were publicly trying to reach. For example, while in Russia, d’Eon had been working on some schemes in Poland. Outwardly, Louis supported Polish independence, but through his agents in the King’s Secret, he was endeavoring to install his cousin on the Polish throne. In England, Louis’s secret agenda was even more devious. While Chevalier d’Eon and the Ambassador drafted the Treaty of Paris to end hostilities between France and Britain, King Louis had his agents making inroads with and bribing politicians, with the end goal of launching an invasion. Chevalier d’Eon had actually been placed into an even better position to work toward Louis’s goals when he had been made plenipotentiary minister, and as such had been spending a great deal of money in his efforts to forge relationships that he could leverage. It has been suggested that one reason d’Eon was replaced was that he was spending too much money, and likewise that this was the reason he refused to step down, because he had become too accustomed to his lifestyle. Whatever the case, when he defied King Louis, he knew that his knowledge of the King’s machinations might work to his benefit, and his publication of private correspondence was a shot across the bow, warning that he was all too willing to betray confidences. King Louis could not afford for his plan to invade Britain to be revealed, as it would precipitate war before the French were prepared to renew hostilities. However, as time went on and d’Eon failed to preserve his title, his pension, and his reputation through implied threat and negotiation, his leverage began to lose its power. During the early 1770s, the rumblings of colonial rebellion in America weakened d’Eon’s position, for Britain already began to suspect that France might use the opportunity, while Britain was embroiled in a war with her own colonies, to break the treaty and make war on them again. However, by that point in d’Eon’s years long negotiation with Louis XV, there was another secret of d’Eon’s in play, one that had been revealed and would have far greater consequences for his reputation.

Chevalier d’Eon as an older man. Public Domain.

In 1770, rumors began to circulate among the British that, despite his masculine comportment, the slight and comely Chevalier d’Eon was actually a woman. Some began to portray him a heroine who became a man solely to serve her country, first in the military and thereafter in politics, like a modern Joan of Arc, or to use a more recent and British example, like Hannah Snell, who had donned men’s clothing to travel in search of the husband who had abandoned her and ended up serving as a foot soldier fighting against the Jacobite rebellion of 1745. Most, though, doubted the rumor entirely, and the matter became the subject of much wagering in London, resulting in a pool being started at the actual London Stock Exchange. Interestingly, Chevalier d’Eon refused to confirm or deny the rumor and would not submit to a physical examination that would put the matter to rest, stating that it would be a great dishonor. When King Louis XV died in 1774. D’Eon renewed his negotiations with Louis XVI, seeking to maintain his title and pension and finally return to France. Due to the shrewd negotiations of playwright Pierre de Beaumarchais, who was working on the King’s behalf, the question of Chevalier d’Eon’s sex was made central to the matter. In a courtroom setting, witnesses swore that they had seen d’Eon in the nude, affirming that he was in fact biologically a woman. Using these testimonies to convince Louis XVI that d’Eon was a woman, Beaumarchais hammered out a deal. If d’Eon wanted to resolve the matter and return to France, he must adopt female dress and habits and agree to live the rest of his days as the woman he was. If he did so, he could keep his pension, but he would be stripped of his title of plenipotentiary minister because a woman could not hold such a position. To the surprise of many, d’Eon accepted, returned to France and lived as a woman the rest of her days, some 33 years. She was legally recognized as a biological woman, and she lived for many of those years as a sort of celebrity. She participated in fencing tournaments and was thought of as a kind of warrior lady, like the legendary Amazons. Thus it was a great shock when, after her death in 1810, a post-mortem examination revealed that she possessed “male organs in every respect perfectly formed.”

It is unsurprising that Chevalier—or as she would be known by the feminine form of her title, Chevalière—d’Eon is featured prominently on most online lists of historical trans figures. She is remembered by many as a male-to-female transgender person who had the audacity and genius to come out in the 18th century by convincing the world that she had actually been a woman cross-dressing as a man and was now just discontinuing her transvestism to live as the sex assigned her at birth. In her 1779 ghostwritten memoir, The Military, Political, and Private Life of Mademoiselle d’Eon, it was explained as such: she had been raised as a boy by her father because he required a son in order to ensure an inheritance from his in-laws. However, d’Eon’s post-mortem proved that this was just a cover story, and some other observations of the physician who examined the Chevalière’s body, specifically that she was round of limb and curvaceous, with “breasts remarkably full,” have led some to suggest that she was in some way biologically intersex. However, historians typically take an opposing view that is equally understandable. They might suggest that whatever feminine aspects her body showed were a result of weight gain and the shaping that occurs from wearing women’s clothing, such as corsets. These academics use the male pronoun and look at the circumstances surrounding d’Eon’s transition to argue he was a hoaxer, asserting that his adoption of women’s garments was simply a means to resolve his conflict with the French crown and negotiate his return home, or that it was not even his idea and he was forced by the playwright and negotiator for the crown, Beaucharnais, to humiliate himself by adopting women’s attire in order to return from exile. They will point to the fact that he never showed a desire to dress as a woman before the conclusion of his negotiation, that he in fact preferred his military uniform, and that he even resisted the stipulation to dress as a woman for two years. In fact, d’Eon even challenged Beaucharnais’s partner, who claimed d’Eon had confided to him that he was a woman, to a duel, a challenge easily avoided by saying it was dishonorable to fight a woman. Then there are further reports from during the remainder d’Eon’s life that, although he dressed as a woman to comply with the terms of his repatriation, he refused to behave as one would expect a lady to behave, climbing into and out of carriages without aid, and remaining after dinner parties to socialize with the men when the women retired.

Portrait of Chevalier d’Eon in women’s clothing. Public Domain.

Nearly every academic point raised to claim Chevalière d’Eon was a mere impostor can be refuted pretty easily and logically, starting with the claim that she never wore women’s clothing before 1777. According to her own memoir, while traveling to Russia on a diplomatic mission he had dressed as a woman in order to evade the British, and while at the court of Empress Elizabeth of Russia, would have taken part in that monarch’s unusual weekly masquerades, which forced everyone to cross-dress and weren’t exactly masquerades in that no masks were to be worn. The notion that she did not wish to dress as a woman receives a further blow by evidence that d’Eon promptly purchased an entire set of lady’s garments as soon as it became clear that dressing as a woman would be a stipulation of the repatriation agreement. Furthermore, d’Eon’s early resistance to dressing as a woman after the agreement was signed, as well as the challenging of Beaumarchais’s partner to a duel, likewise have an alternative explanation. It turned out that, in making d’Eon’s gender identity a part of the negotiations, Beaucharnais and his partner were motivated by greed. Recall that the rumors of Chevalier d’Eon’s womanhood had sparked a great deal of wagering in London. It turns out that the odds favored d’Eon being a man, so Beaumarchais and his partner stood to win a lot of money if they bet d’Eon was a woman and then were able to legally prove it. And this is exactly what they did, producing witnesses willing to perjure themselves by stating they had seen or touched Chevalier d’Eon’s female genitals. So d’Eon’s early refusal to comply with the order to dress as a woman, as well as her anger and attempt to duel these men, was prompted by the fact that she discovered they had used her gender identity in a scheme to make money. However, there is every reason to suspect that the original rumor about d’Eon being a woman was started by d’Eon herself, and that it was she who suggested using the repatriation negotiation to make this gender identity official. Remember that at any time, d’Eon could have disabused everyone of this notion. And she had good reason to, as well, for maintaining her female gender identity ensured that she could not retain her plenipotentiary minister title. This was something that she had previously made central to her demands, so it stands to reason that living as a woman was worth more to her than maintaining her status. When Beaumarchais’s partner afterward tried to sue the bettors who refused to pay on their wagers and was obliged produce evidence of d’Eon’s womanhood in a court of law, he did so counting on the fact that d’Eon would not show up to present evidence to the contrary, which she did not. And finally, following the French Revolution and Louis XVI’s execution in 1793, d’Eon returned to London, and thus was no longer subject to the terms of her repatriation agreement, yet she continued to live as a woman until her death in 1810. Some will argue that she enjoyed her reputation as a heroic woman too much to give it up, and others suggest that reversing the transition would have been too great a dishonor, but the simplest explanation, which accords with all the events of her life previous to that, is that Chevalière d’Eon had always secretly wanted to live as a woman and had schemed in the 1770s to find a brilliant way to do so despite the gender norms of her society.

Even when the academic literature about Chevalière d’Eon concedes that she may have wanted her gender transition, it tends to search for some further explanation, as though unwilling to accept the simple and clear idea that she had always identified as a woman, even throughout her military career and her constant belligerent dueling. They point to d’Eon’s sexual orientation to suggest a homosexual lifestyle may have led to the gender transition. As evidence, they observe that there is no record of his being engaged in heterosexual affairs. In fact, he lived for years in London apparently having an affair with his married landlady, who during the repatriation negotiations swore that she regularly slept with d’Eon, had seen d’Eon naked, and knew d’Eon to be a woman, which was at least in part, or in some sense, a lie. Likewise during several of her later years, d’Eon lived with a widow. But regardless of these relationships, the fact is that Chevalière d’Eon’s sexual orientation proves nothing about her gender identity, a fact that seems to escape some historians. Still other academics look to gender norms and evolving notions of masculinity in Enlightenment Europe in an effort to “explain” her gender transition. They point to the “effeminacy” that had become more and more common among the upper-class male, especially courtiers like Chevalière d’Eon. This was, after all, the age of fops and Macaronis, who preferred dainty and embroidered hose and garter belts, and wore their wigs high with dangling curls in a style previously popular only among women. However, to suggest that d’Eon’s gender transition was a result of the 18th century feminization of men would be to ignore the fact that in most circles, even those in which d’Eon moved, “effeminate” was still considered an extremely offensive descriptor for men, an insult over which duels were commonly fought, and the “effeminacy” of courtiers was one of the greatest criticisms of decadent court life. But again, regardless of the accuracy of this argument, it misses the mark on an even more fundamental level. Searching for a cultural “cause” of d’Eon’s gender transition is a tacit denial that she might have identified as a woman her entire life, regardless of her social environment.

A sketch of Chevalière d’Eon as an older woman. Public Domain.

Another academic view of Chevalière d’Eon’s gender transition is that it was more of a philosophical or theological statement. Once again, these academics look to notions about gender roles that were then prominent in the zeitgeist for an “explanation” of her transition, and also to evidence of the literature that d’Eon kept in her library. They make much of the fact that Chevalière d’Eon owned one of the largest collections of querelle des femmes literature in the world. This proto-feminist literary genre attempted to refute the notion, common in that era, that women were a corrupting influence in royal courts and society in general, arguing instead that women were actually morally superior to men, and that men should imitate their virtuous ways. But again, with the knowledge of gender identity we have today, Chevalière d’Eon’s transition does not require some further explanation. Furthermore, it’s backward to suggest d’Eon’s feminist views caused her transition, when it seems far more likely that her feelings about her gender led her to seek out and collect literature that complemented her deepest convictions about herself. Academics who suggest her transition was a result of her theological principles make this same mistake, but at least they rely on her own words, from an unfinished autobiography. Later in life, Chevalière d’Eon found religion, specifically leaning toward Jansenist Christianity, about which I spoke a great deal in my series on miracles in Enlightenment France. In her autobiography, though, she revealed a theological reason for disregarding her gender entirely. According to her, the bodies God gives us are absolutely corrupt, a tenet with which many devout Christians would agree wholeheartedly. Chevalière d’Eon’s point is that sexuality and gender variance is meaningless to God and irrelevant to whether or not one achieves salvation. In the end, all physical differences, whether they be that of biological sex, or infirmity, or race, will vanish when in paradise we are reborn in glory. When historians look at this and suggest these beliefs might “explain” her gender transition, it boggles the mind. If anything, these views, which she seems to have developed long after her transition, served to comfort and reassure her that there was nothing morally wrong with the acceptance of her gender identity. In fact, rather than picking this theology of gender apart for some better understanding of a gender transition that should be simple to understand, I think it should be viewed as a remarkable interpretation of Christian doctrine that promotes tolerance—something that many Christians today should consider adopting.

Recently, the opponents of trans rights—or should I more accurately say the oppressors of trans people?—shifted the focus of their arguments. In the recent past, they have focused on transgender women posing a threat to cisgender women, portraying them as public restroom prowlers. More recently, Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling suggested that recognizing the rights of trans women somehow negates the rights of cisgender women. You may notice that much of this opposition is focused on male-to-female trans people, as it seems the gender identity of these individuals in particular upsets patriarchal notions of masculinity. But another thread in recent arguments against recognizing the struggles of trans people as legitimate focuses instead on the science of human biology. Nothing can be more ironic than Qanon conspiracy enthusiast congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene posting a sign outside her office that states “There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE. ‘Trust the Science!’” Of course, I recognize that the irony of her saying “trust the science” may not actually be lost on her, since she put the phrase in scare quotes, but I don’t trust that she has really worked out the problem with mockingly repeating a phrase while seemingly trying to be earnest with its use. Regardless, let’s close our discussion by talking a bit about science and transgender issues. Actually, science has come a long way since the days of Dr. Hirschfield’s institute. The fact is, science no longer tells us there are only 2 genders. One example is the 2018 article “Only Two Sex Forms but Multiple Gender Variants: How to Explain?” in the academic journal Communicative & Integrative Biology, in which the author concludes that “there are probably as many different gender variants as there are sexually reproducing individuals.” The error of Marjorie Taylor Greene’s argument, of course, comes from the erroneous conflation of sex and gender, but science no longer recognizes only two sexes either. This can be clearly discerned in the 2015 Nature article “Sex Redefined” which states that “[t]he idea of two sexes is simplistic. Biologists now think there is a wider spectrum than that.”

But if we look at the history of scientific examination, and specifically psychological studies, of gender transitions that were conducted throughout the 1990s, we see some of the same problems that are present in the academic exploration of transgender history. One tested hypothesis was that boys who were “pretty” or deemed beautiful were treated more like girls and because of this treatment became transgender. Findings seemed to support this hypothesis, but the whole notion could be inverted, such that these “pretty boys” had actually changed their appearance to fit their gender identity, rather than changing their identity to match how others viewed them. Likewise, a similar study’s findings suggested girls who were seen as “ugly” were treated like boys and then identified as male, even though it appears those who later identified as male may have originally not been seen as pretty because they had cut their hair short to complement their burgeoning transgender identities. Researchers also tested the hypothesis that parents with depression or borderline personality disorder somehow turned their children trans, but again, the notion could be flipped to suggest that these parents actually suffered depression and BPD because of the mistreatment and struggles their transgender children were enduring. Then there was a study that sought to confirm that parents who allowed their kids to play with the wrong toys were somehow responsible for their children becoming transgender, when obviously the child’s desire to play with the toys deemed inappropriate to his or her gender was already present. What all these studies had in common was that psychologists and researchers viewed transgender identity as a mental illness, “gender identity disorder.” Because of this, they invariably approached their studies as experiments to determine the “problem.” This is exactly how historians often approach the study of transgender figures in history. If they are not trying to disprove entirely the notion that a historical person was transgender, as we understand it today, they seek to determine what might have “caused” the person to dress or act as a member of the opposite gender. They try to explain away their gender transgressions because historians are trained look more deeply, to avoid supposition, and to doubt the obvious. However, the story of Chevalière d’Eon shows us that, just as scientists struggled to measure and test transgender identity, so too historians often dismiss the apparent in their efforts to analyze it. It seems that academics would do well to remember that practicing critical thinking does not mean rejecting what is clear and evident.

A portrait capturing Chevalière d’Eon’s beauty. Public Domain.

The Story of Chevalier d'Eon and the Inadequacy of the Historical Analysis of Transgender Identity

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