Tag: Queer history

  • Trans‑Masculine Pioneers Through History: Power, Purpose, and Legacy

    Trans‑Masculine Pioneers Through History: Power, Purpose, and Legacy


    Trans‑Masculine Pioneers Through History: Power, Purpose, and Legacy

    Trans and trans‑masculine people have long shaped the world in ways that go beyond survival. These figures have made significant contributions in medicine and public health. They have also excelled in military service, sports, arts, and community building. Their lives and achievements are worth celebrating. Their stories remind us that trans masculinity is not a modern invention, but woven deeply into global history.

    James Barry — Surgeon & Medical Innovator (British Empire)

    Dr. James Barry (c. 1795–1865) was a remarkable military surgeon in the British Army, born in Ireland. Barry performed one of the first known Caesarean sections. In this operation, both mother and child survived. It was a huge medical feat for the time. He was deeply committed to improving hygiene and sanitation in military hospitals. Barry pushed for better medical care for soldiers and local populations. Barry lived publicly as a man, signed as “Dr. James Barry,” and challenged early-19th-century gender norms while saving lives.

    Why he matters: Barry’s identity didn’t limit his contributions. Instead, he used his position to heal, reform, and innovate in colonial-era medicine.

    Alan L. Hart — Radiologist, Tuberculosis Pioneer & Writer (United States)

    Alan L. Hart (1890–1962) was a pioneering radiologist who helped revolutionize early detection of tuberculosis. He introduced the use of X-ray imaging for TB, greatly improving public health efforts. Beyond medicine, Hart was also a writer, weaving themes of identity, science, and healing into his fiction. He lived as a man for decades, and his lifelong work saved lives and pushed medical boundaries.

    Why he matters: Hart’s transmasculine identity is inseparable from his legacy. He was both a healer and a storyteller. His commitment to public health left a measurable impact.

    Karl M. Baer — Writer, Reformer & Gender Pioneer (Germany / Israel)

    Karl M. Baer (1885–1956) authored Memoirs of a Man’s Maiden Years, reflecting on his childhood, identity, and transition. In the early 1900s, Karl underwent what is widely recognized as one of the first gender-affirming surgeries. He gained legal recognition as male. Baer also worked with Magnus Hirschfeld, influencing early sexology and social reform. His life bridged personal narrative with political and social change—he was a social worker, suffragist, and advocate for marginalized people.

    Why he matters: Baer’s work helped lay the foundations for gender-affirming care and gender rights. His story is both deeply personal and socially transformative.

    Michael Dillon — Physician, Ethicist & Medical Trailblazer (United Kingdom)

    Michael Dillon (1915–1962) was a British physician. He became one of the first trans men to medically transition using testosterone. He wrote Self: A Study in Endocrinology and Ethics, exploring gender identity, medical decision-making, and ethics. Dillon’s work helped shape early frameworks for trans healthcare and medical ethics.

    Why he matters: He merged professional rigor with personal courage. His life and writings helped build compassionate, evidence-based approaches to gender-affirming care.

    Amelio Robles Ávila — Soldier & Revolutionary (Mexico)

    Amelio Robles Ávila (1889–1984) was a Colonel in the Mexican Revolution. He lived openly as a man from his mid-20s, and his military leadership was recognized by the Mexican government. Robles earned a Revolutionary Merit Award and is celebrated in Mexico for bravery and service while living authentically.

    Why he matters: Robles demonstrated the intersection of trans identity and revolutionary activism. He fought for justice and recognition. He left a lasting legacy in Mexican history.

    Lou Sullivan — Activist, Community Builder & Writer (United States)

    Lou Sullivan (1951–1991) was openly gay and trans at a time when that was revolutionary. He created resources for FTM people. He built peer support networks. Lou clarified that gender identity and sexual orientation are distinct but overlapping. His diaries and posthumously published writings reflect hope, insight, and advocacy.

    Why he matters: Sullivan built community structures. He fought for medical recognition. He articulated trans masculinity in ways that continue to guide activism today.

    Reed Erickson — Philanthropist & Trans Movement Fundraiser (United States)

    Reed Erickson (1917–1992) founded the Erickson Educational Foundation (EEF), which funded early transgender medical research, community outreach, and publications. His work expanded medical care and education opportunities for trans people in the 1960s–80s.

    Why he matters: Erickson’s philanthropy helped create infrastructure for trans communities and ensured early access to gender-affirming care.

    Albert D. J. Cashier — Soldier & Union Veteran (United States)

    Albert Cashier (1843–1915), born Jennie Irene Hodgers, served in the 95th Illinois Infantry during the U.S. Civil War. Cashier fought bravely, lived as a man for decades, and was respected by his community. He exemplified heroism, integrity, and authenticity.

    Why he matters: Cashier’s dedication to country and self demonstrates courage in both service and identity.

    Zdeněk Koubek — Athlete & Gender Trailblazer (Czechoslovakia)

    Zdeněk Koubek (1913–1986), born Zdena Koubková, was a world-class runner in the 1930s, setting records and winning medals. In 1935, he publicly announced he would live as a man and continued to pursue life openly in Prague. His story expanded conversations around gender in sports.

    Why he matters: Koubek’s athletic excellence and public transition challenged norms and left a legacy of courage and change.

    Why These Histories Matter

    Trans identity is not new: These men and transmasculine figures span centuries and continents. Their impact was positive and varied: Medicine, activism, war, arts, sports—their lives left tangible contributions. Visibility strengthens communities: Recognizing these stories empowers transmasculine people today. Global and intersectional representation: Figures from Mexico, Czechoslovakia, the U.S., and Australia illustrate the diversity of trans histories.

  • L-G-B BIGOT: You Can’t Remove the T from Bigot—Or the Stain It Leaves Behind

    L-G-B BIGOT: You Can’t Remove the T from Bigot—Or the Stain It Leaves Behind

    This post was prompted by a Substack account literally named “LGBWithoutTheT.”

    I wasn’t going to say anything. Then I remembered who threw the first brick. People quickly forget the hands that built their liberation.

    Consider this a journal entry, a call-out, and a refusal to be erased.

    And for the ones who keep trying to correct me about Marsha P. Johnson. Yes, she was a drag queen. But don’t weaponize that title to strip her of her womanhood or her role in our lineage. You say it like it means she wasn’t trans, like that disqualifies her from this fight.

    Let me remind you: they didn’t make names for us back then. We weren’t supposed to exist, they lumped us in boxes for sexual orientations and forgot about gender. So excuse her for only fitting in the box allotted.

    They didn’t have the language because they didn’t want us to exist. DUH! They could no longer deny the “sexual orientation” aspect. That is why we always fight together. Yet, some still find it hard to see how we ended up together.

    It is erasure in eyeliner and eyeliner in erasure.

    – That Tranny Axton

    You really think they were out here making neat little identity labels for people they were trying to erase entirely? They shoved us in boxes with the rest of the “undesirables” called us faggots, trannies, freaks, perverts, criminals, and left it at that. We weren’t given nuance because they weren’t interested in letting us live long enough to need it.

    They forced us into the same box as the cis gay and lesbian community. Even then, we still fought for you. We stood beside you when no one else would. We understood oppression, and still do. I, for one, know how it moves, how it mutates, how it devours the most vulnerable first.

    Still, when it’s time to return that solidarity, a lot of you disappear. You go quiet. Or worse, you join in.

    I don’t see many of you showing up when it actually counts… not even for yourselves…. When there’s no parade, no post, no performance, and nothing in it for you. That’s the difference between LGBT & queer, we show up for others you all just show up for beer.

    And to be clear, this isn’t an attack on the LGB community as a whole. I do know most of y’all aren’t the ones trying to cut the T off the end of the alphabet. However, bisexual folks have also been erased, belittled, and pushed out of both straight and queer spaces. You know the feeling of being treated like a phase. You understand when you’re seen as a joke. It’s familiar to be considered a threat to the comfort of others. So please consider that when you are transphobic.

    This is about the ones who align themselves with exclusion once it starts to advantage them. The ones who climb out of the struggle and turn around to shut the door behind them. It’s not about whom you’re attracted to but, who you’re willing to throw under the bus. Sadly, to feel more palatable to people who never wanted any of us around in the first place. Remember that before you try to put your boots on our necks.

    The “LGB without the T” movement is not only a slap in the face. You spit on the memory of our history. Look! There goes the ungrateful child pretending to have raised themselves. We know whose hand was held through the storm. We saw who clothed, fed, and got them safely to where they stand now. It’s galling. The way some cisgender community members will proudly wave rainbow flags and say “We’re finally free.” Wholeheartedly, leaving behind the people who took the first swing at their oppressors. It is cowardice dressed up as “purity politics.” It is erasure in eyeliner and eyeliner in erasure.

    You do not get to rewrite history because you’re uncomfortable with the mirror trans people hold up to your face. Marsha P. Johnson, a Black transgender woman, was on the front lines at Stonewall. And not to become a sanitized footnote in your cis-centric, whitewashed retelling. Sylvia Rivera, a Latina trans woman, was screamed at and booed by cis gays when she dared to stand onstage. She told them the truth: trans people were dying while they were sipping cocktails in their freshly legal bars.

    The first bricks thrown at Stonewall weren’t chucked by some white suburban gay couple who just wanted to get married. ALso not sorry we never wanted to blend in. They were thrown by trans women of color, by drag queens, by homeless youth, the “too political,” and “too much.” Your comfort was built on our chaos. Your legal rights were carved out of our blood. The very idea of “Pride” was born from our refusal to die quietly. You do not get to inherit our revolution and then evict us from it.

    It’s not just historical revision, it’s betrayal. Newsflash, it’s not new. The movement gets close to acceptance, cis LGB folks try to cut the T loose. Like we’re some inconvenient asterisk instead of the architects of your liberation. You wanted our rage when it was marketable and our defiance when it made you feel brave. Yet, now you don’t want our truth when it challenges your false comfort. You want our fashion, our language, our style, our slang, but not our struggle.

    Let’s be honest, a lot of you didn’t just forget us. You actively turned your backs. You watched the same system that once crushed you now turn on us, and you looked away. You even joined in, parroting right-wing points like “biological reality” or “just protecting the children.” Without the slightest trace of irony. As if they won’t come for you next. As if they didn’t already.

    You try to frame this as a boundary, some protective line drawn around “just LGB issues.” But how can you talk about queerness and not talk about gender? Do you think homophobia just pops up in a vacuum? Don’t you see how much of it is rooted in the fear of people who deviate from gender norms? Effeminate men, masculine women, people who don’t “perform” their gender in a way that straight society deems appropriate? The line between “too gay” and “too trans” is razor-thin and violently enforced. You think they only care who you sleep with, but they care how you walk, talk, and dress. How you take up THEIR space.

    And let’s not even pretend this movement is about safety. Nothing makes a space safer than removing the people who’ve been targeted the most, right? Trans people are not the danger. We are the canaries in the coal mine. When our rights start to fall, yours are already next in line. If you think throwing us under the bus will delay the fascists at your door… wrong and next are both words describing you.

    So let me say it plain, in a way even the “respectability gays” can’t misinterpret:

    You did not build this alone.
    You do not get to gatekeep the house we all bled to build.
    And you sure as hell don’t get to evict us and redecorate in rainbow pastels.

    You are not the only letters that matter. They never were. You only got here because of the ones you now try to cut off the end like a typo. But we are not a mistake. We are not your footnote. We are the reason you get to pretend that’s your flag in the first place.

    So if you’re uncomfortable, GOOD. That’s fine. Be uncomfortable. Sit with it. But don’t you dare rewrite the story, and don’t you dare call it unity when you mean uniformity.

    Keep it cute. Put it on mute.
    Or better yet, keep it honest. Remember who threw the first brick so you could afford to forget it.

    This isn’t a debate. It’s a reckoning.

    To every trans person reading this: we were never the problem. We are the reason there’s anything to celebrate at all.

    To the LGB folks cutting us out:

    You can’t take the T out of bigot.

    And you sure as hell can’t scrub away the stain it leaves behind.

  • The Fire Still Burns, Stonewall Was a Riot

    The Fire Still Burns, Stonewall Was a Riot


    They Threw Bricks!

    Today marks the anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising.

    Not a party.

    Not a parade.

    Not your corporate-backed, rainbow-branded nonsense.

    A riot.

    A breaking point.

    A sacred rupture in the silence forced on queer people for generations.

    With Nothing Left to Lose

    June 28, 1969

    They fought back.

    Black and brown trans women, drag queens, queers with nothing left to lose.

    They threw bricks because nobody would hand them dignity.

    They lit fires because we were dying quietly.

    They chose noise over erasure.

    Marsha.

    Sylvia.

    Stormé.

    Countless others whose names we never got to learn because this country didn’t think we needed to know them.

    We carry them.

    We carry their chaos, their refusal, their brilliant, protective rage.

    We carry it when we come out.

    We carry it when we take up space.

    We carry it when we live anyway.

    Pride isn’t just a celebration. It’s a warding spell.

    A reclamation.

    A reminder that we never asked to be beaten into silence

    and we will not go back to whispering.

    For me, Pride is survival.

    It’s my middle finger to a world that tried to bury me in shame.

    It’s the bruise that turned into a banner.

    It’s my queerness as spell work, as scream, as soft altar.

    So today, I remember.

    Today, I say thank you.

    And today, I rage, beautifully, queerly, loudly.

    We are not done.

    We are not docile.

    We are not ashamed.

    And we are not going anywhere.

    Happy Pride, my sacred rebels.

    Keep the fire lit.


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