Before we are trans is a new insight into queer culture and how people lived their lives throughout different time, countriess and cultures.

Amongst all the noise on TV, the news and politicians it was refreshing to see how people have been expressing themselves throughout history. I felt I gained a new insight through this book and really enjoyed it! It wasn't a challenging read, and I felt it was well written to convey people so clearly. Will definitely recommend.

Source of book: NetGalley (thank you)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.

Welp, I’m so late on all my NG reviews, that it’s gone past fashionably late and into just … like … a fucking mess. This is technically a re-read since I read this forever ago, did not quite have the time to formulate my thoughts in a way it deserved, then continued to lose the plot for many months, so here we are again.

This is a thoughtful and fascinating re-evaluation of the history of—for lack better language (and the limitations of language is something the book itself wrestles with continually)—
gender-nonconformity. Since the author notes in the book that they find the constant jokes at the expense of historians somewhat hurtful, I’ll do my best not to dwell on the degree which it feels to me, as someone who does have an academic background in the field, that conventional historical approaches to marginalised identities seem more interested in erasing them than exploring them: as Heyam themself observes, no historian has never been required to prove that a historical figure is straight or cis, simply because we take it as read that acting in accordance with the western cisheteropatriarchy is a natural state of being. In any case, part of the stated aim of Before We Were Trans is to explore examples of gender non-conforming / gender disrupting behaviour across history in ways that are less focused on looking for “proof” of indisputable transness or cisness (whatever those things mean and whatever proof of it would look like) and more about formulating, as the subtitle states, an approach to gender that allows for nuance, ambiguity, complexity and—frankly—messiness.

I think, for me, it was the honest exploration of messiness that I found most personally valuable. I think, ironically—and I’m aware I sound like an episode of Black Mirror here—that one of the most difficult aspects of social media is a tendency towards kind of moral binaries, especially when it comes to the complex spaces of identity i.e. that identity is a kind of zero-sum game. Heyam touches on this directly when they discuss their own experiences in wording a commemorative plaque for Anne Lister, inadvertently becoming the subject of a great deal of hurt and hostility for including a reference Lister’s gender non-conforming behaviour (they did, after all, describe their desire for women in specifically masculine terms and dress in masculine-coded clothing) while leaving her attraction to women implicit in the description of her entering a life-long commitment to one equivalent to a marriage. This led some people to interpret the plaque as a rejection of Lister’s lesbianism and an attempt to co-opt her for a trans/nonbinary agenda. Which is exactly the sort of discourse I find most harmful since—while I would never want to cause hurt or grief to others—it seems to me, for Lister in particular, the answer can very comfortably be both? Which may not be the case for other figures, who left behind more definitive statements regarding their self-perception.

In presenting their own take on approaches to gender non-conforming behaviour in historical context and by historical figures, Heyam is at pains to widen spaces of interpretation instead of narrowing them, referring to nearly all of the people they reference by gender neutral pronouns, imposing no conclusive identity upon them, noting the way categories of experience overlap (including the ever-contested butch woman / trans man boundary) and careful to emphasise the impact of different cultural contexts, alongside the danger of assuming western ideas of gender and gender binaries are universal. That the history of gender is inextricable from the history of colonialism is a stark reminder that ideas about gender are also inextricable from ideas about power.

I have seen a few reviews that are inclined to read Heyam’s tone as defensive. Personally, I read it as cautious, as well it might be. This is a complicated, emotive space, one that scholarship is only just beginning to admit reconsideration of, queer people of all sorts have personal investment in, and which has genuine potential to re-shape our current thinking. Before We Were Trans is not a work of polemic. I’m not saying it doesn’t have an agenda—all historical work is carried out with an agenda—but it is an exploratory agenda, rather than one that wishes to seek, demand or present definitive readings. It is, of course not, not for me to challenge other people’s interpretations nor to deny whatever feelings Before We Were Trans might have inspired. But, to me, to draw out of the text a rejection of fluid and/or nonbinary gender expression in favour of binary trans ones or to treat gender disruptive readings as antithetical to feminism or other elements of queer identity, seems actively reject Heyam’s own stated goals for the book and ignore the consistent care with which they navigate these very fraught topics.

As to the form of the book itself, it’s a fairly slim but not necessarily light read, moving thematically rather than chronically through historical examples of gender disrupting behaviour, either from specific individuals (for example the case of Thomas(ine) Hall) or specific cultural contexts (like World War I interment camps or the floating world of Edo Japan). Of course it is not possible for Heyam to fully de-centre western perspectives—nor do they try—but I personally appreciated this invitation to consider questions of gender, gender expression, and gender disruption from a more global point of view. I think Heyam had to walk something of a tightrope here, in order to neither exclude or erase groups of people, while not attempting to speak for them (or over them) either. For, you know, people like me, it seems fairly clear that Heyam’s book provides (and is probably intended to provide) a useful starting point, but should not be taken as any sort of comprehensive or definitive statement on the experiences of gender nonconforming people across the world.

In general Heyam has a brisk personable, style that neatly navigates both the need for accessibility and precision. I will say, I sometimes found the sheer breath of the book overwhelming—I’ve read it twice now and I still don’t feel like I’ve got a grip on every topic or story touched upon. I can see the advantage of the book not looking like a massive, intimidating tome, but at the same time Heyam took me to places I wasn’t super familiar with and introduced me to people I hadn’t heard of before and while I’m not necessarily saying I needed them to talk slowly for the ignoramus at the back, I did think the book could have potentially benefited from a more measured pace now and then, and perhaps a touch more detail about some of its subjects. After all, Before We Were Trans is dealing quite explicitly with the “lesser knowns” of gender nonconforming history (i.e. those who we might not be inclined to classify as trans to a modern understanding precisely because their lives were ambiguous or complex) which means this could, in fact, be the first time some of these stories have been made available to people without access to research archives.

On a purely personal note, Heyam occasionally lost me a bit when their explorations touched upon portrayals of trans and nonbinary people. This is obviously a topic way beyond the scope of the book and most of the time Heyam is speaking entirely personally, but their choices feel frustratingly limited in a book that is otherwise interested in expanding boundaries. Don’t get me wrong, like all confused queer teenagers who grew up at a certain time, I love The Left Hand of Darkness with all my heart, but it came out in 1969. Modern SFF is full of books that centralise trans and nonbinary protagonists, and sometimes they don’t even have to die! Similarly, Heyam’s recommendation for a fab read with a nonbinary protagonist is The Lauras, a novel which—while it admittedly defies bodily or genital classification of its main character—also contains multiple graphic assaults upon the main character. Again, I’m not saying that it is wrong for writers to address these topics—sexual assault is the reality of many queer people’s lives—nor I am denying Heyam’s right to feel spoken to by this or any other book, but it sort of feels like handing a newly out lesbian a copy of The Well of Loneliness. I was also not super thrilled that the bit of the book that Heyam chose to quote as part of their pitch in favour of this work as a welcome to nonbinary identity was, um, one of the assaults? This felt especially jarring because, while Heyam does not diminish the traumatic experiences of the historical figures they’re discussing (the previously mentioned Thomas(ine) Hall is repeatedly subjected to invasive examination), they go out of their way not to dwell on them or textually replicate them. Obviously the difference is that Alex (the protagonist of The Lauras) is fictional but I’m not sure that necessarily changes the impact upon an unprepared reader.

Our respective tastes in queer fiction aside, I am full of admiration for Before We Were Trans, and Heyam’s passion for their subject. Given the complexity of the entire topic, and the ambitious scope of the work itself, it’s a very readable book that I genuinely found educative and illuminating. Most importantly, however, it contributes to what feels like an extremely necessary, and hopefully on-going conversation, about sex and gender as mutable categories that have historically been subject to disruption just as they are today. In fact, let me give Heyam the last word(s) as they express it far better than I could:

<blockquote>This is why it was so important to me to insist that the stories in this book are trans history. They are histories of gender not being binary, fixed, or tied to the body. They show there have always been people who disrupt these norms, and there have always been societies in which they aren’t norms at all.<blockquote>

I thought a lot of the information in here was valuable and I found the chapters around how histories of both intersex and other queer people conflict with trans histories interesting and insightful - especially the approach that of course we can't know everything about those people and that queer identities and contexts have evolved a lot over time. I did however find the writing a bit of a slog (it took me months to finish this book after starting it) - perhaps I just haven't been in the mood for this kind of historical analysis or perhaps it was the writing style, I'm not sure.

The stated goal of this book is not only to argue for the possibility and presence of trans histories in many facets of human experiences across time and geography, but also to examine the many ways in which trans histories are inextricable from the histories of sexual, intersex, antipatriarchal and spiritual experiences — I think it fulfilled those objectives in a fascinating and engaging way. I think it did a great job as an introductory text and as a spring board to a deeper looking into many of the histories and topic covered (the footnotes and bibliography give you plenty to pursue if you want to read more).

This is a book about “trans history […] of histories not being binary, or fixed, or tied to the body.” It’s also a book about how queer experience interacts with context, and Heyam offers some interesting considerations about queer theory and historiography. While it’s largely written with accessible language, the tone leans towards the academic side of non-fic — I personally found that this didn’t slow me down at all, however if you’re not familiar or comfortable with that, you might find it a little harder to get through. As someone with an interest in both queer and fashion history, I particularly enjoyed the chapter on gender-nonconforming dress, which examined the ways the relationship between clothing, gender and sexuality have changed over time.
I received a free copy from NetGalley in return for an honest review.

Kit Heyam’s book offers an exploration of a historical niche through accessible academic writing. Wonderful!

An interesting, detailed, and thoughtful look at trans identites and gender through time and cultures, and in a variety of contexts.

The tl;dr could be 'things are complicated' and I felt that it did a good job of offering a variety of aspects and perspectives that both contradicted and complimented each other. I liked the willingness of the author to question their own assumptions while keeping respect for the individuals involved.

A really interesting and thought-provoking book that I recommend.

Kit Heyam's Before We Were Trans offers a series of case studies of what Heyam terms 'trans history' across the globe, from seventeenth-century West African female kings to contemporary South Asian hijra to figures like Jemima Wilkinson, who rose from their deathbed as the genderless Public Universal Friend in 1776 and preached Quaker ideology throughout the northwestern United States. Heyam's definition of 'trans history' is 'deliberately expansive': he argues that trans history must include 'people who've troubled the relationship between our bodies and how we live; people who've taken creative, critical approaches to gender binaries; people who've approached gender disruptively or messily.' Rather than trying to figure out whether people from the past were 'really' trans, therefore, he argues that we can make room for a much wider range of experiences of gender non-conformity, and also that many of these histories can belong to women's history, or to lesbian and gay history, at the same time as belonging to trans history.

This trans 'reading' of the past makes a lot of sense to me - even if I don't think it's the right approach for all history at all times - and Heyam's introduction to this book is extremely useful and insightful, making a number of key methodological points. They note that focusing solely on trans people who fit into a modern binary understanding of gender identity means that we are only going to make the histories of white Western trans people who follow a medical model of transition visible. It also privileges modern understandings of gender as being about an internal sense of 'gender identity' rather than how other people understand you and how you present yourself. Following lesbian theorists, they argue that assuming people in the past were 'cis' is just as ahistorical as assuming they were 'trans'. Finally, they criticise the language of 'reclaiming' LGBT+ histories, arguing that this is a 'capitalist way' of thinking of history as a 'scarce resource' that LGBT+ people have to fight over: we don't have to choose whether a historical figure was 'really' trans or gay or lesbian.

The methodological points Heyam makes in his introduction are followed through in a couple of especially insightful chapters. Heyam is careful to show that intersex histories, for example, should not simply be appropriated by trans people, talking through the example of Roberta Cowell, a British trans woman who had gender reassignment surgery in 1948. Cowell always claimed that she was really intersex rather than trans, and had 'developed along the wrong lines'. However, in order to support her own story, she relied on homophobic and transphobic tropes to present herself as a 'real woman', rather than a male 'sissy'. She also argued she was fundamentally different from Christina Jorgensen, an American trans woman, whom she called a 'transvestite' who pursued transition 'entirely through artificial means'. Cowell's appropriation of an intersex identity was therefore actively harmful. Another strong chapter concerns the experiences of men who lived and performed as women in First World War internment camps. Heyam effectively uses these histories to show how many different motives people in the past might have had for gender non-conformity, whether it was to 'legitimise' homosexual attraction, to participate in music-hall traditions of drag, or to seize the opportunity to express their true gender.

This book, then, is almost more about the methodology of doing trans history than it is about trans history. Given its wide chronological and geographical scope, Heyam is obviously not an expert on all of these histories. To an extent, this is inevitable and understandable - if we're ever going to have popular global histories, like Lucy Delap's excellent Feminisms, then we have to accept that one writer can't be a professional historian of everything. However, I did have problems with Heyam's approach. I found their attitude to the past inconsistent. Heyam refuses to use a lot of modern terms that they judge are ahistorical, but then frequently uses very recent terms like 'AFAB' or 'cis' that are equally ahistorical, without justifying why they think this is a different case. This feels especially uncomfortable when Heyam discusses Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí's brilliant book The Invention of Women, where Oyěwùmí argues that in Yoruba society, social roles are not traditionally linked to biological roles, so our idea of 'woman' as a sex/gender category does not work for Yorubas. Heyam glosses this by talking about 'AFAB and AMAB' [assigned female at birth, assigned male at birth] people in Yorubaland, but this is not the language that Oyěwùmí uses in her book; she instead speaks of obinrin and okunrin, making it clear that these Yoruba categories don't line up with our ideas of female and male, or indeed AFAB and AMAB.

(Heyam's selective use of modern terminology also influenced their controversial decision (as part of a committee) to omit the word 'lesbian' from Anne Lister's blue plaque in favour of calling Lister 'gender non-conforming'; they argue that, at the time, 'the plaque was going to say they married a woman, so what did it matter whether we used the word or not?... everybody knew Anne Lister was a lesbian'. This seems to me to be both ignorant and disingenuous given that fact that lesbian history has been marked by invisibility and erasure; Lucy Allen-Goss's excellent blog post on Lister explains this better than I can.)

This links to another issue I had with how Heyam treats the intersection between lesbian and gay histories and trans history. In short, he sets up a false binary between simplistic histories of homosexuality that are focused solely on who you sleep with, and the more expansive trans history that he advocates. I like Heyam's umbrella definition of trans history but it ignores the ways in which lesbian historians, in particular, have drawn on lesbian activism to present similarly expansive definitions of lesbian history that overlap with Heyam's trans umbrella. Judith Bennett, for example, argues that by using the term 'lesbian-like', 'we might incorporate into lesbian history sexual rebels, gender rebels, marriage-resisters, cross-dressers, singlewomen’. This draws on earlier activist ideas from groups like Radicalesbians who argued that lesbians are positioned in a specific way in relation to patriarchy; being a 'lesbian' is to step outside the acceptable boundaries of what it means to be a woman, and therefore to face the full force of patriarchal oppression, as well as making as the choice to orientate your energies towards other women rather than men. As historians, we might sometimes find 'trans' or 'lesbian' history to be a more useful umbrella term, but it's not true that one is inclusive and one is not: they include different people.

Heyam argues that there is an emotional case for trans history; that it is important for trans people to see themselves in the past. 'We're... trying to reassure ourselves that our genders are real'. While I completely agree, I thought this book did treat some histories with less care than others, especially Global South and indigenous histories, and the histories of lesbians/wlw. (Heyam does reflect on the problems of white Western trans people appropriating terms like 'two-spirit', but then goes on to include these kind of histories in their book on trans history; there's something not quite right here). In short, I'm totally behind Heyam's ideas about trans history, but they don't always play out convincingly in practice, and the book ends up sitting uneasily between popular history and academic theory.

Before We Were Trans is a much needed book, in the current climate, about Trans history.. It is well researched and sensitively and factually delivered. I found it easy to read and was sorry to have missed the author at Waterstones Liverpool..
I think it is enlightening and I for one learned a lot about the 'unseen' (unspoken about) history of Trans people. Whilst being educational in context, it wasn't too highfaluting and therefore is accessible to everyone.
Delving into the history of gender identity, and placing it in the context of real trans peopkle with real trans lived experiences makes this book both relevant and necessary.

I must admit that I Dnf'd this book on the first read. My mind was not in the right place to read it. However, I was still intrigued. So, when I heard it was available on Audible, I jumped at the chance to read it. I am glad I did. It was a good decision. The book is an interesting read. It asks the questions: which historical figures can be labelled trans, and how do we categorise those individuals who would not accept or understand the label? It looks at the emotional connections we make with historical characters and the way that those connections can help the shaping of our identities. It highlights the importance of emotion in our reading of history. I highly recommend this book. In addition, I highly recommend, the author read, audiobook.

An incredible book surrounding trans history. I have learned so much as a cis person reading the different ways non-binary and trans people existed, how colonialism affected gender in non-Western countries after the invasion, and how different cultures see gender differently. I would highly recommend this to any cis person in order to understand how long trans people have existed in our history.

Heyam writes from a place of pure passion and love in this celebration of gender and identity. Each chapter is well researched and informative about a history I wasn't fully informed of. Before We Were Trans expresses the lives of people who expressed their gender identity in a while when the terms we commonly use now weren't available or did not yet exist yet. An interesting insight into the history of trans history. I'll definitely be looking into more books like this.

This book was wonderfully written, socially important, and utterly engrossing. It was simultaneously personal and thoroughly researched. It's an important, fascinating book written at just the right time, and I can't praise it highly enough.

Before We Were Trans is an important read. It's a collection of Trans history and it is so well-researched. I truly cannot recommend this unfortunately short book enough. Highly recommended!!

I love reading trans history that celebrates us in all our forms. There are some parts that are (expectedly) hard to read in terms of inequality etc, however overall this is an important collection of trans and gnc identities across time and place; the inclusion of indigenous gnc identities is eye-opening.

This was a fantastic book about trans history. It’s not often you read a history text where the writer lets their personality and their values shine through so Kit is a breath of fresh air.

There is SO much information contained within this relatively short book that I’m definitely going to have to revisit it. It was so well-researched and carefully constructed, whilst also not being scared to have honest conversations around trans history (especially in the chapter regarding how intersex and trans people’s histories intertwine)

In the current climate where trans people are used as pawns in a culture war, this book is so timely and relevant.

This is an important book. Even more so given the current political climate and creeping erosion of respect for those who don't conform to a binary view of the world or indeed shut up and put up... I can already see that there are those who will be blinkered in their reviews, but this is a compassionate and fascinating read that I think should be shared and amplified. Meticulously researched and engagingly written, it explores the intersection of gender, sexuality and social expectation and how we understand the above and have done through history. Thank you to Kit Heyam, and everyone involved in bringing this fabulous book to publication.

It's also caused me to add a huge number of both fiction and nonfiction books to my TBR...

A well researched and informative book that talks about gender and how some things were already presente in the ancient times.
It's never preachy, I appreciated the style of writing and the clear explanations.
Highly recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

This has a fairly simple core premise (that gender diversity has always been present, in varying ways, across the globe) that’s enriched by deep research, solid politics, and self-reflection. If occasionally it gets a bit long-winded or repetitive, it is never preachy, and the notes and bibliography are a goldmine. I made numerous highlights - it’s really scratched my academia itch, though it’s very accessible. Anyone with an interest in queer history should read this - and anyone who thinks gender diversity is a Gen-Z indulgence should, too.

It’s rare that I’ll buy a copy of a book I’ve read an ARC of, but in this case it’s a no-brainer.

My thanks to Seal Press and NetGalley for the ARC.

This is such an interesting, well written, researched insight and is written by a non-binary historian. Before We Were Trans is a history of gender expression , which is largely untold previously. This book explores how people expressed their gender identity in a time where there was no word for it, this gives a unique and interesting insight into the history of the Trans community , this is academically written but the author manages to keep it interesting and not at all dry, this is essential reading for, well everybody as far as I’m concerned

Thanks to netgalley and the publisher for a free copy for an honest opinion .

I’ve found that a pretty reliable metric for reviewing a book is how many bookmarks, electronic or otherwise, that I’ve left in it. And by that criteria, I clearly got a lot out of Before We Were Trans, because I bookmarked a lot. Kit Heyam has collected some fascinating and forceful arguments here, not to mention shone a light on some absorbing historical detail.
The book’s core argument is fairly straightforward and made with persuasive conviction — that some transphobic arguments that a current emphasis and acceptance of nonbinary or fluid gender identities is some kind of modern invention, a passing fad or a symptom of our ‘post-truth’, post-postmodern age. That one sees this argument being made pretty often and in numerous areas of public discourse is depressing and makes Heyam’s book timely and important. You would think that even the most cursory examination of the history or culture of just about any human society you could care to name would render obvious the problematic nature of gender identity and how deeply wrapped up it is in questions of politics, power and control.
Heyam sets out their stall pretty quickly and persuasively within the first few pages and what follows beyond is not so much a development and deepening of this core argument as a series of case studies to back up the historical claims for a more nuanced vision of human gender identity. This is both the book’s main strength and its main drawback. Heyam draws upon an impressively wide range of examples from a diverse range of cultures and presents them with an admirable sensitivity to problems of appropriation and romanticisation.
And while Heyam has avoided too academic a tone, some of these case studies can be rather dense, packed with anecdote and tangential fact and written in a rather sententiously dull style. More than once, I had to fight the urge to skip through the text or even give up on the book completely. While the book is pretty accessible and spares the reader too much immersion in complex theoretical argument, the prose is nevertheless rather plodding and lifeless in a number of places.
You could, in fact, read the opening and closing sections of the book and bypass much of what lies in between as a surfeit of detail of varying interest. The research is impeccable and there’s much to learn within these pages but it feels rather a lot of the time as if it’s presented without particular insight and one is left occasionally wishing for a more personable guide.