Showing posts with label Confession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confession. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Trans Literature: Transgender as a Literary Archive


"When you hear the same stories over and over again, from people from all over the world, you start realizing that transgender is not an anomaly. 
It’s a part of the spectrum of people’s realities."

Susan Kuklin
Beyond Magenta
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Introduction

As a recognized archive, transgender literature remains largely on the horizon. There are no "trans lit" sections of most major book stores. Yet in recent years, feminist and LGBTQI book stores are beginning to have shelves or at least special displays that host a variety of books on transgender: history, medicine, self-help, family stories, memoirs, and fiction. As a field of academic study, trans literature is even further behind. This is ironic, given the number of transgender studies scholars who have degrees in English or at least have used trans films in their work. Yet even as transgender studies begins to break away from being a mere sub-set of queer or gender studies, trans literature remains largely subordinate to other fields of trans research: psychoanalysis, sociology, history, and media studies. Of them all, media and film studies has come perhaps the closet to describing transgender film as an archive worthy of study in its own right. As more trans films begin to win awards or at least get nominate, film may continue to lead the way in public awareness of the wider literary archive.

Yet once one begins to ask the question, the number of trans literary texts and narratives that begin to appear are massive. On the surface are those books and films that have begun to get some distinction. When one expands beyond those books marketed as "transgender" by publishers, marketing firms, or stores, one sees how trans literary archives have long existed. One finds trans narratives categorized in genres and archives defined more broadly as women or queer literature, as well as disability, post-colonial, and African-American literature. Looking further for trans narratives, genres, and literary forms, suddenly one arrives at medical, legal, religious, and historical texts that tell trans stories as pieces -- even center pieces -- of other agendas. At this point, one needs to begin to learn other methods of research, other professional and linguistic languages, in order to locate these trans narratives. But once learns how to find them in places not readily marked by the category "transgender literature here," the flood-gates burst open. Suddenly one begins to see trans literature all over the place, from media and books, to medical and government documents, to blogs and suicide notes, to historical manuscripts and saint's lives.

With such a massive and widely distributed archive, it is difficult to give a mere reading list. Such lists are available and reflect mostly recent English language publications currently sold in local book stores or films available on Amazon or iTunes. What I wish to provide in place of giving a "Top 10" or potential candidates for a new literary canon, is a method of categorizing and patterning trans literature as types of narrative. Through such an approach, my goal is to help you dig into the broad, interdisciplinary, and buried archive of trans literature so you will be able to grow the canon rather than merely reiterating the same handful of books and films on sale in specialty markets. So let's dig in and see where and when these narratives lead us!


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The Transition Narrative

As a formal genre, I argue that the transition narrative fits into the example (or exempla) genre. The example (or exempla) are defined by a doctrine (or dicta) that provides a theoretical concept for proof and facts (or facta) that provide the evidentiary grounding. In the case of most transition narratives, the visualization and narration of the facts of altering one's gender signifiers are supposed to fulfill the doctrine of one's trans identification. This doctrine may be as simple as "I am a woman, not a man," or may be as complex as "I have gender dysphoria." While other genres may utilize the transition narrative, the example is the genre most often used and most closely tied the rhetoric used for many transition stories.

Historically, the discursive context that produced and consumed the most number of transition narratives in the modern era is the medical field. In this case, the facts of case studies are given to prove whatever medical and psychological doctrines the researcher is trying to prove. For authors seeking to explore the histories and literary archives of trans persons undergoing transitions, one will spend a lot -- if not most -- of one's time reading such case studies from books written and consumed within a medical context. In some cases the dicta being proven are affirming of these transitions, offering advice for procedures, and others are critical warnings against transitioning. This tension is more pronounced the further one goes back in the study of medicine. If one pushes back even further, prior to the modern medical interest in transition narratives, a researcher will find them present within religious texts that also take the form of exempla. In this case, religious exempla are interested in using these histories and folk stories to prove doctrines of faith and philosophy. As in the early medical exampla, the dicta that accompany the trans facta are often not affirming of transitions, although there are some surprising examples of sympathy for the facts of the case.

The examples of transition narratives take on three dominant forms. These forms present the facts in different ways which correspond to different doctrines of change. The three dicta of change I highlight here are greatly influenced by Carolyn Walker Bynum's work on Metamorphosis. The three forms of transition narrative are: absolute change, hybrid change, and no change:


  • The Doctrine of Absolute Change
    • Facts are presented within a structure of before and after. There is often a defining event (such as surgery or a name change) which represents the transition. The narrative often diminishes the time given to this period of change because it represents the ambiguity that Absolute Change is trying to diminish.
    • In this form, the narrative will often refer to the person's time before transition using the name and pronouns that accompanied that gender presentation (such as "he") and then after the event the person will be described using the name and pronouns that fit that gender presentation (such as "she").
    • Examples using absolute change include: Caitlyn Jenner's The Secrets of My Life, The Danish Girl (book and movie), and many medical journals, especially the more sympathetic ones.

  • The Doctrine of Hybrid Change
    • Facts of different genders are presented alongside each other, before transition and after. Whereas absolute change tends to collapse transition into the short period of a single key event, hybrid change narratives tend to prolong transition to a much greater degree. One may see multiple transitional events, where the person is living one gender in one context and another gender in another context. The effect of this narration often supports doctrines of gender as a fluid spectrum, where male and female traits are present at the same time just in different degrees.
    • In this form, the narrative will often switch between pronouns and names. Such examples will even favor the name/name or pronoun/pronoun way to describing a person, such as "John/Eleanor" or "He/She."
    • Examples using hybrid change include: most discussions of Eleanor Rykener, Boys Don't Cry (and other discussions of Brandon Teena), and She-Male porn (a genre which depends on presenting trans women as monstrous hybrids, thus the choice and construction of the word "she-male" as "the best of both worlds").

  • The Doctrine of No Change
    • Facts are presented so as to foreground the present of the identified genders from the very start. The gender assigned at birth is presented as secondary and based on appearances and the identified gender is presented as primary and based on essences or predispositions. Also called the "born this way narrative." This is the most popular among current transgender stories because it affirms that transgender is a discreet and insular identity that is unchanging, based in nature rather than choice or nurture. These qualities have proven important and effective in convincing doctors, medical insurers, the courts, and government bodies to provide assistance and protection for trans people.
    • In this form, the pre-transition name and pronouns are de-emphasized. Sometimes, the post-transition name and/or pronoun of the person is used from the start even while it records how other people used the socially assigned deadname and pronouns. Other times, these names and pronouns will be used in describing the person pre-transition but will come with an explanation, "scare quotes," or asterisk* denoting them as based on appearances rather than the person's identified gender.
    • Examples using this form include: If I Was Your Girl, A Fantastic Woman, Trans America, and Leelah Alcorn's suicide note.

Transition narrative exempla are very effective and common in circumstances where transgender is considered novel or contentious. This is because exempla transitions are geared at showing as a way of telling. You get the theories of transgender communicated but in a way that typically does so obliquely through narratives and facts that work on the emotions of the audience. By giving case studies with facta that invoke pity (how terrible!) or identification (they use the same lipstick as me!) the dicta can be consumed without inciting the debates that tend to arise when discussions are based more in abstraction.


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The Memoir

Whereas Transition Exempla may be the most numerous in the archive, the confessional memoir is perhaps the most popular. It occurs with relative frequency since transgender has entered public discourse that a trans person gets told, "you should write a book! Tell your story!" Indeed, this turn towards memoir is often part of the process of marginalized identities entering the mainstream. When there is a recognized lack of fact or fiction (beyond the medical or sociological which can be considered to academic for public audiences) memoirs or biographies tend to be the first to fill the void. Whereas exempla demand that readers take some medicine with their sugar, some dicta with their facta, memoirs seem to offer pure sugar, all facts with no doctrinal agenda. Now, one may still derive theories and believes from reading a memoir but they are not nearly as important, if they come at all. Memoirs thus give the sense of learning truth (or truthiness) without the fetters of ideology.

Calling trans memoirs confessional gets at their rhetorical function and their historical genre. Because memoirs are typically highly formalized, edited, and published for a wider (if still somewhat niche) audience. As such, not every trans person will have the chance, means, or desire to write a memoir. Yet nearly every trans person will be asked or even required to tell their life story. This biography may sometimes be given by others but the first person confession is generally preferred as the most authoritative. This may take public form such as an interview, a vlog/blog, or a speech in front of a community group. This may also take an important institutional form, wherein the trans person must confess the truth of their lives to doctors in order to get treatments, to insurers in order to get coverage, to employers or Human Resources to get accommodations, to government agencies to get new documentation, and lawyers or judges to get protections or compensations. Confessional life stories also are frequently used to persuade friends and family members to cooperate with a transition. Rare is the situation where a trans person transitions name and pronouns without someone demanding to hear the life story of the person.

Historically, before transgender was accepted enough to get book deals, confessions were a prominent and important genre in establishing transgender as a discrete condition of life. Before a psychiatrist is willing to sign on to support an individual trans person and before the wider medical industry got into the business of publishing research on trans people in general, a trans person had to sit in front of a doctor and convince them of the veracity and necessity of their gender. The most common and effective way to get these authorities on their side was by providing the facts of one's life. Before doctrines (dicta) could be drawn up to explain the facts (facta) of trans people, making exampla possible, the facts were confessed wholesale to the best of the trans person's ability. And before the private confession of the therapist's office, there were confessions to priests and judges. For much the same reason, as religious institutions and the courts have dominated much of western culture, trans people historically had to also try to convince these authorities of their veracity as well. Thus we see the long history of transgender found in religious and legal documents. At times, the recorder of the confession imports their own doctrines and ideology, but often enough the confession is so surprising to the authority that they do not fully know how to make an example of it. As such, confessions often break free of over doctrine in order to persuade often suspicious audiences of the internal and external realities of transgender.


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The Journey

If transition examples frequently collapse time into a before/after picture and confessional memoirs often assert an essential truth that took a lifetime to unravel, journey narratives tend to fall somewhere in the middle. In fact, journey narratives are often all about the middle, extending the second act of a three into a narrative in and of itself. As such, even though transition narratives can at times be presented as journeys they are presented in ways generically distinct from examples of transition. In fact, they may be seen as inversions of each other. An example typically focuses the narrative on the trans person as the object of study. Even confessional memoirs are sold as the outside looking into the mind and soul the trans person. Yet trans journey narratives are more interested at looking through the eyes of transgender person outward at the world. The trans person becomes the subject and the world becomes the object. Whereas the before/after picture emphasizes the visual difference in the trans person, the timeline of a journey is more about the scenery and saying look at my life "here" and compare it to my life "there." At times, these places are literally different spaces, such as the move from a rural or suburban hometown to the city. Yet frequently, whether or not there is a journey through space there is a usually journey through time. And the goal of this journey from a narrative stand-point is to get the reader to come along with the trans person, to look along with them, to see how the world looks from a different perspective.

For a fan of pilgrimage narratives and travel narratives, it is unfortunate that the vast majority of such trail literature is not only cisgender but white able-bodied heterosexual and male. Yet tropes and narrative structures of these journey narratives are still at play in transgender journeys but in a different form. As noted, there are often physical journeys that define a trans journey narrative, moves across country, from a parent's home to college, going to a new job, getting a new place after a divorce. These physical moves often correspond to other changes in the trans persons life. Part of the journey may be transition but may also be coming out to the family, finding a safer place to live, getting a more accommodating job, etc. Such physical journeys are often described in great detail because journey narratives generically focus on environment. Details such as social contexts and the availability or absence of support are important features of the social terrain, even though the physical differences between one city and another may not be as drastic as walking from the mountains into the dessert. Yet any journey through space is also a journey through time. A journey narrative in this way may resemble a confessional memoir, insofar as it gives details of a life across time. Yet their purposes and foci are different. A confession functions to give insights about the interior life. A journey narrative on the other hand focuses more on the change of circumstances over time. How did moving in with Dad after your parents divorce affect your gender presentation? How did living in Boystown, Chicago affect your freedom of gender expression? How did taking the rural small town job affect your work life? The focus in these journeys are on the external life, which this genre considers no less important.

Because they often lack the typical markers of travel literature (a hiker with a backpack, a walking stick, mountains in the distance) it can seem tricky to locate trans journey narratives. Often you will find them located among other genres: memoir, transition examples and case studies, and histories. An interesting trend in journey narratives are the higher number written by activists or academics. This may be because the activist and academic are habituated in analyzing their surroundings as much if not more than analyzing themselves. For instance, when Eli Clare tells his life story, he will often pause for an extended consideration on his geo-social context, his historical context, his philosophical context. Thus one learns as much if not more about Clare's world as one does about him. Likewise, a characteristic of Laverne Cox's interview or lecture style is that she will introduce a piece from her own life story but primarily as a way to take a journey through the other stories that surround her social contexts: the experience of people of color, women, working actors, LGBTQIA people etc. Yet even non-activists and non-academics will turn to the journey narrative. If I Was Your Girl tells the story of a trans girl moving back in with her father after her transition and mental health breakdown while she lived with her mom. Thus the novel records being a fish out of water in her new school. Being a fish out of water is one way of describing many trans journeys but also travel narratives in general. This is because journey narratives give perspectives that allow us to see the world we live in through a new light and suddenly the world becomes stranger and more interesting. 

Admittedly, a specific form of trans journey narratives are beginning to develop utilizing more traditional markers: the trans road story. From To Wong Fu to Trans America, the trans journey on the road becomes a way of showing the different contexts and problems trans people experience as they move from one place in the country to another. These journeys typically involve many of the features of other travel narratives, including the negotiation of transportation, pilgrimage narratives, including a prophesied holy land or loca sancta on the horizon, or epic and romance, including strange battles, dangers, and veering.



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Next up: Transgender as Literary Theory



Thus far, we have consider the tropes of transgender often found in cisgender narratives as well as the common types of narratives written by or at least focused around a transgender person. Yet this still leaves trans literature largely in the position of text or object for academic study. What is important to consider are the ways in which transgender may affect our methods of reading or enacting literary analysis. What is a trans way of reading? How does transgender affect the way narratives and archives are formed? Stay tuned for the third part of this series as we consider transgender as literary theory!

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Tuesday, June 7, 2016

New Publication: "Unconfessing Transgender" Featured in Accessus 3.1


"Man / The which, for his complexioun 
Is mad upon divisioun"

John Gower
Confessio Amantis
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by M.W. Bychowski
Accessus: Vol. 3: Iss. 1, Article 3.
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Abstract

On the brink of the twenty-first century, Judith Butler argues in “Undiagnosing Gender” that the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) defines the psychiatric condition of “Gender Identity Disorder” (or “Gender Dysphoria”) in ways that control biological diversity and construct “transgender” as a marginalized identity. By turning the study of gender away from vulnerable individuals and towards the broader systems of power, Butler works to liberate bodies from the medical mechanisms managing difference and precluding potentially disruptive innovations in forms of life and embodiment by creating categories of gender and disability.

Turning to the brink of the 15th century, we find that John Gower’s Confessio Amantis narrates the division and dysphoria of gender according to the hermeneutic of the seven deadly sins. The “Tale of Iphis and Ianthe” occurs in the Confessio’s Book IV on “acedia,” or sloth. Iphis, whose story is bordered by a priest’s penitential advice and thereby related to sloth, is a biologically female youth dressed as a boy and later physically transformed into a man. Medieval disability scholars have demonstrated that for premodern thinkers, religion and medicine were so intertwined as to be inseparable, especially in cases such as the management of sloth, where the symptoms of depression, despair, and sluggishness spanned the categorizes of physical and spiritual disease. Gower himself considers the God of Love to be both cause and physician of this ailment.

In “Unconfessing Transgender,” I contend that Gower's text considers the medical definition and control of medieval “trans” bodies under the auspices of sin by presenting both Iphis’s problem and cure as socially constructed. The first part of this article explores “Divisioun and Dysphoria” to establish how Gower prefigures the modern social model of transgender as an experience of living in a world full of change and contradiction. In part two, the particular social forms of “divisioun” identified as “Acedia and Depression” signal Gower’s discussion of the sin of sloth that frames the “Tale of Iphis and Ianthe.” In the third part, I examine how Gower's removal of the dysphoric youth’s voice and agency in the tale emphasizes the systematic character of suffering caused by a dysphoric Nature (represented by Isis) and a subjugating patriarchal Nature (represented by Eros).
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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Eve Salisbury for her indispensable enthusiasm and insights throughout the birthing of this piece, as well as Georgiana Donavin, Jonathan Hsy, Chelsey Faloona, and other readers who helped (like Isis) to midwife this dysphoric work into the world. Furthermore, I would like to extend gratitude to Jenny Boyar, Sarah Gillette, and Pamela Yee, who presented alongside me on the Gower Project panel, “Gower and Medicine,” at the International Medieval Congress in Kalamazoo, MI, in May 2015. For the conviviality and mentorship that has helped in the development of this project, I thank Robert McRuer and David Mitchell, as well as Jeffrey J. Cohen and all members of the George Washington University Medieval and Early Modern Studies Institute. Finally, to my partner in all things, the Rev. Rachel J. Bahr, and our children, who every day teach me more about the power of speaking together, the agency of youth, and the radical demands of love, I dedicate this work to you.

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Accessus

Accessus: A Journal of Premodern Literature and New Media is a biannual publication of The Gower Project. In Accessus, The Gower Project publishes theoretically informed readings of premodern literatures, demonstrates the impact of new media on these texts, and provides a venue for innovative work on John Gower's poetry.

The Forward to this issue was written by Georgiana Donavin, bepress (DC Admins), and Eve Salisbury, Western Michigan University. In this Foreword, the editors summarize the articles published in Accessus 3.1 and offer conclusions about their importance for Gower Studies and contemporary medical practice.

The issue also features another Gower Project participant, "Reflection, Interrupted: Material Mirror Work in the Confessio Amantis" by Jenny Boyar, University of Rochester. In the abstract for the article, Boyar writes: The Confessio Amantis concludes with a revelatory scene in which Venus holds up a mirror to Amans, allowing him to recognize John Gower the poet— a moment that is often read as a mimetic and healing counterpoint to the Confessio’s sickness and self-questioning. My intention in this paper is to very slightly modify certain aspects of this narrative, to consider how the materiality of the mirror can inform its metaphoric deployments in the Confessio. I organize my discussion around two seemingly contrasting moments in the poem in which the self is seen and in different ways recognized through a reflective surface: the “Tale of Narcissus,” and the concluding moment in which Amans looks into the mirror to see, eventually, John Gower. Drawing in particular on the production and dissemination of mirrors in the Middle Ages, as well as basic properties of reflection, I point to certain challenges facing the medieval mirror: the hazy reflective properties of the lead mirror, and the impurities of the precariously made, limitedly accessible glass mirror. I ultimately suggest that, more than a revelation through reflective recognition, the Confessio’s ending would have proven most resonant for its portrayal of seeing through a complicated medium.

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Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Toxic Environments: the Place & Genre of Transgender Suicide Notes


"My death needs to mean something"

Leelah Alcorn
The Transgender Queen of Hell
Text: 12/28/14, Image 12/11/14
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Prelude: Voices of Light

Let’s take a breath. “Fiat lux et facta est lux” (Genesis I.ii-iii) In the beginning the spirit of God was over the waters. God said, Let there be light and there was light. Let’s speaking together for a moment on speaking. God spoke and light filled void. This is the power of the speech of God’s spirit, literally God's breath, the living form of speech. This is the story of the first day of Genesis from the Latin Vulgate. It tells of God’s Creation of all that is, ending on the sixth day, when God breathed the spirit of life into humans made of dust and ashes (Genesis II.vii). The same breath that hovered over the void and spoke the words of light, now resided in humanity.

This is the power of voice that Augustine of Hippo struggled for when in Book I of his Confessions he cries “sine me loqui” (Suffer me to speak... me, dust and ashes. Allow me to speak," Augustine I.vi). As a model of confession, Augustine exemplifies speaking not only to God but the community. This isn’t muteness but sin, what Jasbir Puar describes as "necropolitics," systems that mark which and how bodies lose breath and die (Puar, Terrorist Assemblages). God places breath, a voice of light, in the body so that silence is akin to death and the work of reclaiming that voice is akin to resurrecting a spirit from the grave. There is no true reconciliation then, until the isolated are brought back, empowered to speak and so give light to the environment, the encircling, that confined the life in the first place. This is the meaning of con-fession, the together-speaking. Towards that end, I intend to earn the right to do what I tell my students never to do, starting a paper with the sentiment, “since the beginning of time,” in order to establish transgender suicide note as existing in a current genre of trans literature connected to a long tradition and medieval genre of literature in the Church: confession. I intend to mark how the Church and its secular psychiatric counter parts form programs such as conversion therapy and places of silence, in order to contain the trans discourse.

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Posted by Leelah Alcorn 10/7/2014
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I. Introduction: Un-Confessing Trans Suicide

A year ago Pope Francis, another speaker and writer of Latin was attempting to reconcile with the transgender community by inviting a trans man to the Vatican for a private meeting. The meeting was said by the executive director of New Ways Ministry, “as genuine interest in learning about the transgender experience from a firsthand source” (National Catholic Reporter). The meeting ended with the man asking if despite the Church being a toxic environment for trans people if “there was "a place somewhere in the house of God for him” (NCR). Francis hugged him, but, a shrewd politician, he voiced no reply. The meeting was arranged to pre-empt the publication of a book in later 2015, This Economy Kills where Francis compares the trans population with atomic bombs (Liturgical Press). Francis fears trans people as what Puar calls “terrorist assemblages,” those with the atomic power to speak, “Fiat lux,” making an explosion of light that will transform how we understand the order of nature. Excerpts of the book were released in early 2015. Thus the meeting, question and silence. Francis wants reconciliation but fears confession, speaking words of life for trans people.

This is the circumstances of confession between Church and transgender in January 2015, only weeks after the silencing of another trans voice, Leelah Alcorns, when after writing a post entitled "Suicide Note" under her blog “The Transgender Queen of Hell,” as well as a hand written note that read, "I had enough," and after years of silencing in a toxic environment, she stepped into oncoming traffic and died (Salon). It was a silencing without reconciliation, the loss of the spirit, breath, and a return to “terram et cinerem” ("dust and ashes," Augustine I.vi). This is the desperation to speak and be heard, wherein the transgender person is made to feel lucky enough to speak at all, following Augustine’s, “sine me loqui,” ("suffer me to speak" 
Augustine I.vi). This is what happens when suicide is the only way to gain the public voice and power. Necropolitics is so deep, many trans people feel more able to serve biopolitics is as the forsaken spirit, the last breath, of the suicide.

In this paper I argue that the transgender suicide note exists as a distinct genre of trans literature (as well as digital literature and humanities) with characteristic tropes, structures, and social functions. A trans person does not spontaneously decide to get literary just before death. Rather the note is compelled to fulfill political demands that (1) a note must confess a mental illness, typically dysphoria but compounded by depression, (2) it must contextualize the death of the suicide as highly private and personal through a brief narrative of self that begins with diagnosis of transgender and ends in death. To map how the genre functions and is compelled by society, I will close read Leelah Alcorn's "Suicide Note" not because her life is particularly atypical of many trans persons who commit suicide but because she describes her not atypical life with atypical eloquence (Alcorn 12/18/2014).

In the process, I point to this eloquence to show how Alcorn's "Suicide Note" shows knowledge that her life, death, and note fall into a social script. This self-awareness allows readers to map the note is the last step of a long necropolitical process. The moment target voice trans identification, the system kicks into gear to (1) silence trans persons from speaking non-pathological transgender discourses, (2) isolate them from trans community, and (3) compel notes that recast the necropolitical process from the public elimination of undesirables into a personal tale of mental illness or bad luck in birthplace. I conclude that the genre of personal confession and place of isolation are not accidental to transgender suicide but socially engineered, and reframing notes as public confessions of necropolitics turns trans identity from personal pathology into collective community and isolation from an accident of place into a prison designed to silence the trans voice and smother the trans spirit. Through transgender literary study, the genre and place of the transgender suicide note explodes to reveal “facta est lux,” there is light even where we perceive silence, dust and ashes.

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Posted by Leelah Alcorn 12/22/2014
Captioned: "Transitioning. I Love How Literal This Is 
and How You Get a Sense of the Pain It Takes"
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II. Genre: Silencing Discourses

Let’s speak together of genres. The confessional nature of the trans suicide note is meant to compel an explanation for the death of its author to answer the lingering “why?” Usually, some form of psychological illness is given as always already terminal. Alcorn answers to the demand for self-diagnosis in her opening line, “The life I would've lived isn’t worth living in... because I’m transgender” (Alcorn 12/28/14). What at first seems like a personal spontaneous claiming of self unravels as a performative enactment of social conventions. “I never knew there was a word for that feeling,” explains Alcorn. “When I was 14, I learned what transgender meant,” presumably from her online community, “and cried of happiness. After 10 years of confusion I finally understood who I was” (Alcorn 12/28/14). Alcorn's filled her blog, Transgender Queen of Hell, with images and messages shared by other trans people. Alcorn was particularly fond of pictures adapted from anime, such as Sailor Moon or Pokemon, that often emphasized gender ambiguity or transition. Likewise, Alcorn shared with her trans bloggers messages of the hardships and depression. Just a week before her suicide, Alcorn posted to her blog, "every time i want to kill myself it’s always inconvenient to everyone around me. i want to fade away without ruining everyone else’s plans #personal" (Alcorn 2/22/14). The online trans community also shared messages of hope and affirmation with one another, including more than a few posts that communicated to Alcorn how beautiful and inspiring she is for her readers. On December 12th, 2014, Alcorn posted her appreciation to her readers, "oh my god people on here are just so nice to me I don’t deserve this you guys treat me like a princess and it makes me so happy whenever I feel like shit... i don’t have that many followers but the followers I do have treat me like a human being and you have no idea how much that means to me <3 #i'm crying #thank you" (Alcorn 2/12/14). This re-blogging formed networks of transgender discourse that affirmed the posters as part of a shared community. Drawn from online networks, Alcorn’s understanding is based on a social model, a collective identity that instills the political spirit, ‘hey you are like me, and we are all together in this.’ The online network and transgender literary archive formed from a kind of public confession, a together-speaking, that gave Alcorn the power of collective speech and life.

“I immediately told my mom,” writes Alcorn, “and she reacted extremely negatively, telling me that it was a phase, that I would never truly be a girl, that God doesn’t make mistakes, that I am wrong” 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). At the moment of speaking the trans discourse, Alcorn is marked as “wrong” by her mother, an agent of a Christianity that seeks to silence and contain dangerous trans spirits. Transgender moves from a social discourse, a way of connecting self and other, to be contained in the “wrong” individual as personal pathology and a phase which can be contain to specific “phases” of life. In the process, God moves from the giver of breath, voice, and light to the authority by which others contain, silence, and extinguish her spirit. In a post to her blog entitled, "All," dated November 30th, 2014, Alcorn wrote that she viewed God as "a meanie," heaven as "nonexistant," and hell as "my parent's house" (Alcorn 11/30/14). Contained within her parent's house and church, as well as their definitions of gender and God, Alcorn does not see the light of the heavens spoken into being on the first day of Genesis. Instead she only sees the walls of her all too personal, all too human hell. God is the mean truth that "doesn't make mistakes" which is held only to contrast and shame Alcorn as "wrong." In the binary of write and wrong, man and woman, Alcorn and God exists on opposite sides. Yet both discourses, divine and transgender, are contained by the hermeneutic of Alcorn's Church. God is made to speak (in specific biopolitical forms) and Alcorn is made silent (in specific necropolitical forms). This is one critical sense that confession becomes privatized as the means of speech between God and humanity, as well as humanity and humanity, it comes under the proprietary control of specific Church agents. As a private confession, Alcorn speaks but the authority assigns, contains, and hides the meaning Alcorn’s words – preparing her for conversion therapy and biopolitical correction or necropolitical elimination.

Conversion therapy helps to facilitate Alcorn’s shift from a collective identity into personal shame signaling the shift of genre from a pubic into private confession. This movement follows the shift from the public digital sphere into the privacy of church and the doctor’s office. “My mom started taking me to a therapist, but would only take me to christian therapists,” writes Alcorn on her first session of conversation therapy 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). Such conversion therapists are spurred on by psychiatrists such as Dr. Paul McHugh of Johns Hopkins University. As self described orthodox Catholic, McHugh continues to push that transgender identification is a medical disorder that needs therapy to correct despite the vocal opposition of The American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology, the American Psychiatric Society, the American Public Health Association, and the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (The Trans Advocate). Among McHugh's other anti-LGBT opinions espoused by Christian therapists is that the sex abuse of children rampant in the Catholic Church is not due to pedophilia but is a natural extension of homosexuality (The Advocate). While Alcorn does not disclose what the doctor told her, we do learn that she felt, “I never actually got the therapy I needed to cure me of my depression. I only got more christians telling me that I was selfish and wrong and that I should look to God for help” (Alcorn 12/28/14). The doctor’s prescription that Alcorn is self reflects the work to isolate transgender from a collective identity into a personal condition, marking it as a form of narcissism, she is “selfish.” Alcorn is taught that this personal condition is “wrong” (the diagnosis), and to be made right she must submit herself to the doctor and then to God (the treatment plan). Her trans and depressive feelings her selfish, private problem. The solution was to redouble commitment to stay in the Church and submit to their tightly privatized discourse. Rather than speaking together with Alcorn, listening to her express her identified gender as well as her feelings of depression, the conversion therapy worked to contain and control her speech. 

By moving from the public to private, confession has turned from an act of empowerment to a mode by which she is depowered, her power becomes depressed. “When I was 16 I realized that my parents would never come around, and that I would have to wait until I was 18 to start any sort of transitioning treatment, which absolutely broke my heart,” writes Alcorn (Alcorn 12/28/14). The confession to parents and doctors that offer diagnostic access to the powers to transition were inverted and became a mode to limit Alcorn. Some people might suggest bunkering down, waiting, as she cites, until her emancipation, the age of eighteen, is only two years away. Yet what most people who advocate bunker mentalities don’t understand – but what a transgender person or medievalist (or a trans medievalist) knows well – is that siege wars are worst on those bunker down. The besieged become starved out by those well supplied power who surround them from all side and cut them off from lifelines. The flow of power is on the side of those who surround the city and grows as those contained by it become weaker. Being locked into a single environment, like being locked into a single discourse is dangerous to any ecology. Too quickly the ground waters can be poisoned, resources depleted, the air used up until the life held inside must surrender or die. 

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Posted by Leelah Alcorn 12/24/2014
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III. Place: Disabling Environments

Let’s speak together of place. Alcorn grew up in King’s Mills, Ohio, where she began identifying as "gay" at school in preparation for later gender transition. When her parents found out, they went into action to circumscribe her with the church, the Northeast Church of Christ in Cincinnati. “They took me out of public school, took away my laptop and phone, and forbid me of getting on any sort of social media, completely isolating me from my friends,” she writes (Alcorn 12/28/14). The place of Alcorn’s suicide is isolation. She is taken out of public school and kept in a private home, separating her from her local community. Moving from high school where friends see one another five times a week to solitary confinement in the house for several months was a shock to Alcorn's system. Nor was she able to explain to her friends what was happening because she had no one of contacting them. Yet the environ cuts also Alcorn off from her public online life. Alcorn no longer had the words of affirmation from the readers of her blog nor could she call to them for help.  The purpose of this separation from her transgender and ally community was to purify her eco-system of LGBT life. Likewise, this was an expression of her parent’s power disciplining her with the knowledge that they and not her controlled her voice and environment. “I was completely alone for 5 months,” Alcorn writes, “No friends, no support, no love” (Alcorn 12/28/14). The togetherness brought on by friends, support, and love of her confessional community was expunged from her as her environment because increasingly privatized, individualized, and isolated. In a war of attrition, the key to siege, Alcorn’s parents cut her off from the resources for life, suffocating her voice and spirit. 

In less than two years, less than five months even, Alcorn’s spirit shrank in the toxic environment of isolation, moving her steadily towards death. Her note traces the relation between the depression of power and necopolitical forces engineering her death. “This was probably the part of my life when I was the most depressed,” writes Alcorn, “and I’m surprised I didn’t kill myself” 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). The work of alienation is not a one time event but has lasting impacts. When Alcorn was allowed back into social media, the loss of contact made it harder to reconnect. “I felt even lonelier than I did before,” she writes (Alcorn 12/28/14). “The only friends I thought I had only liked me because they saw me five times a week.” This very socially conscious observation strikes at the stakes of transgender discourse and confession as living ecosytems. Without participation between many actors, confession can become just speaking into a void. Some voices and spirits are powerful enough to create lights that brings a community into being but most people require the power of co-creation in order to build and maintain such systems of life support. High school in particular is such a hard time for some many people, youth often depend on the larger established frameworks of classrooms, buses, lunches, after school activities. These systems can provide those lucky enough to take advantage of them the necessities of communal life while each person undergoes personal transformations and hardships during adolescence. Without being part of the framework of public education, Alcorn is removed from the living, breathing, and changing ecosystem of the school. In five months and without alternative forms of connection, the friendships she once had are not the same friendships that she had previously. In the lack of a social media, her suffering is turned from a collective struggle to a personal hell, fulfilling her digital handle, the Transgender Queen of Hell.

Alcorn’s personal hell is toxic. A toxin is distinct from other drugs and poisons because it is not necessarily harmful. A toxin is any substance, even air or water, that reaches a quantity at which it suppresses life. For Alcorn, the process of her environing was that she was cut off from her public queer and trans resources and flooded with anti-trans Christian necropolitics. By the end of the summer, Alcorn recounts she had “almost no friends,” either local or online, and in their place she only had  “church” where “everyone... is against everything I live for” 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). For Alcorn, the Church was a toxic environment. The presence of this particular anti-transgender brand of Christianity made her unable to grow and survive. The community was so full of its own gendered ways of life that it did not allow other forms of life to coexist. This community designed to be a heaven for certain straight cisgender Christians was in a sense designed to be an unlivable hell for transgender women like Alcorn. Indeed, for her parents and church, trans people like Alcorn are toxins that challenge their tolerance. Thus they wanted her substance in their community but wanted to contain it to ways and amounts they could control. Thus like a toxin in the ground water of a besieged city, the very eco system that kept Alcorn alive, her parents and church, also made life unlivable. This is how Alcorn's church environment existed at the cross-roads of a biopolitics that worked to contain her and a necropolitics that worked to suffocate her spirit.

The sum consequence of the depression of power and mind in a toxic environment is that Alcorn despaired of ever being able to escape the body and life of a boy. “I felt hopeless,” confesses Alcorn. In time, the body itself becomes an unlivable environment and the imprisoned feel that escape is impossible. “There’s no winning. There’s no way out,” concludes Alcorn 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). The Transgender Queen of Hell became increasingly convinced of the perpetual reality of her hell in contrast to the "nonexistant" heaven. Three days before her death, Alcorn posted an image to her blog of Elsa from Frozen dressed in red and dancing in her "world of isolation" but recast as Hell. Along with the image came the quote: "Parents: 'you are going to Hell'" (Alcorn 12/24/14). The Christian church her family built around Alcorn increasingly marked her as a target of its necropolitics, the desire for Alcorn to be a part of the great eternal pyre wherein all the things are obliterated of the world that this exclusive brand of Christianity deems as worthy to be selected for eternal life. The alternative to necropolitical destruction was to live a life bound up a kind of living Hell that Alcorn comes to identify with her body. “Either I live the rest of my life as a lonely man who wishes he were a woman or I live my life as a lonelier woman who hates herself.” While Alcorn once externalized Hell as existing in the constructed environment of her home and Church has become so personalized and privatized that Hell now seems to be written on her skin. She has breathed in the toxins so long that she feels as though her whole life spirit is now toxic.  She cannot escape hell when she is hell herself. Alone, this may be true. Under parents, a doctor, a church, and a god, she may not have the power to reclaim herself. Because of her isolate, toxic environment, she may not have the power to escape. “That’s why I feel like killing myself,” she concludes (Alcorn 12/28/14). “Sorry if that’s not a good enough reason for you, it’s good enough for me.” Two-thirds into the note, Alcorn no longer cares of the public’s opinion. In the end, she is left alone to decide how to escape a depresses spirit, an unlivable body, & a toxic environment: she choses escape by suicide. This is the final work of necropolitical environments and the privatizing of confession, by making the subject identify the toxic environment as within themselves the walls are no longer necessary because the subject will police herself, embody her hell in herself, and if it comes to it to kill herself. The necropolitical work of killing the unwanted life is done while the system keeps its hands clean. 

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Posted by Leelah Alcorn 12/24/2014
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IV. Conclusion: Re-confessing Trans Suicide

Let’s speak together of genre and place, the reclaiming space and spirit. As of the final third of the note, Alcorn seems to feel that she has sufficiently fulfilled the demands of the genre to give the cause and circumstances of her death, so there is a significant turn from the personal to the political and the private to the public. Aware of how her confessions have been cut off, she wants her story become a public confession prompting social change. “My death needs to mean something,” Alcorn writes (Alcorn 12/28/14). “My death needs to be counted in the number of transgender people who commit suicide this year.” For Alcorn, her life and death have meaning because they exist in the context of other trans lives and deaths. She is aware of the number of trans suicides and accompanying notes. She is all too aware she is not only writing in a genre but a growing archive of trans literature.

Alcorn does not simply want to make literature, she wants to change how we read. “Gender needs to be taught about in schools, the earlier the better,” she concludes, among which, trans literature and the trans suicide note 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). We need to treat trans literature as worthy of serious study; by excluding it, cisgender studies is causing serious trouble without it as trans voices continue to be erased. The atomic bomb of Alcorn’s trans speech went off, enacting significant political power on the United States at the same time that Leelah Alcorn’s personal life and death are systematically unconfessed. Leelah Alcorn was buried as Josh by her parents who insisted on using Alcorn's assigned name despite outcry from activists (ABC News). Alcorn’s parent’s deleted her "Suicie Note" post as well as the rest of her blog (Pink News). The physical suicide note which read "I had enough" was also destroyed by her parents (Salon). The blog was saved by digital archivists and activists who preserved Alcorn's on a downloadable zip drive (Archive.org). At first, it was an elimination of the "con-" of confession, our togetherness, of being a part of a wider public. But this comes with an elimination of the "–fess," the -fateri, the speech that gave Leelah power in death that she did not have in life. The war of attrition on trans culture, literature, and history is as real as the murders in the form of homicides and murders in the form of suicides. 

Alcorn is not content to merely exist as a piece of literature divorced from social implications, she demands that readers respond to what they read and act. “I want someone to look at that number and say “that’s fucked up” and fix it,” she insists 
(Alcorn 12/28/14). The numbers that Alcorn is likely referring to is the report that she blogged on November 20th, 2014, from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, stating that 41% of transgender persons will attempt suicide in their life and among transgender women 48% will attempt suicide (Alcorn 11/20/14). Beyond this one study, however, other studies report higher numbers at or above 50% attempting suicide by the age of 20. For transgender women of color, their total life expectancy is set at 35 years (The Advocate). At least half our population find themselves isolated by siege, unable to escape, and die. Too many trapped in toxic environments that work to eliminate trans lives one way or another. In such dire circumstances, Alcorn affirms that words need to turn into providing liberation and systematic change. “As for my will,” she writes, “I want 100% of the things that I legally own to be sold and the money... to be given to trans civil rights movements and support groups” (Alcorn 12/28/14). Alcorn’s death allows for what resources she retains to be directed to providing resources to pull other trans persons from their toxic disabling environs. Since her death, a petition called "Leelah's Law" has gone up to ban conversion therapy in across the United States endorsed by over 300,000 signatories including President Obama (Change.com). In the wake of Alcorn's note and collective political pressure, a law was passed in Cincinnati, Ohio, where Alcorn went to Church, banning the practice of conversion therapy (Pink News). 

These are the stakes of telling trans stories, speaking words of life for the trans community, however dangerous they may be. We will speak the words, “Fiat lux,” and create our own light at the end of the tunnel. A light like the first glimpse of liberation. Until we storm the bulwarks of isolation and silence, in bathrooms, in Mississippi, in North Carolina. Nor will we leave the church a safe haven for the systematic isolation. We will not give up the war. Until we rise in power, we will not rest in peace. We will speak the words of Alcorn that Pope Francis fears and will not be silenced by mere hugs. We may learn to love the bomb’s we are because we know from it comes untapped nuclear power, a sentiment expressed by My Chemical Romance’s True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (2010), which could as well be called the True Deaths of the Trans Suicides, “Everybody wants to change the world, everybody wants to change the world; but no one, no one wants to die. Wanna try? I'll be your detonator” (My Chemical Romance, "Na Na Na").

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This talk was delivered by Gabrielle M.W. Bychowski
as part of the Toxic Ecologies Panel
as part of the Composing Disability: Crip Ecologies Conference 
at the George Washington University on April 8th, 2016.

#TransLivesMatter

The Transgender Suicide Hotline
877.565.8860
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