$36.00
ISBN 3936636044
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Reviewed by David Steinberg
(12/03/03)
The closet is neither plush nor womblike
It is caustic
Lined with sandpaper
And you will erode yourself
And you will disappear.
--Colleen Mullins, in The Gender Frontier
Mariette Pathy Allen has been photographing gender outlaws since 1978, when
she befriended a group of crossdressers who happened to be staying in her
hotel. Her first book, "Transformations: Crossdressers and Those Who Love Them," is
a thoughtful, stereotype-busting collection of portraits that offer rare
insight into the reality of who crossdressers really are, what motivates them to
lead their lives as they do, and how those decisions affect their most intimate
relationships with others.
Allen's new book, "The Gender Frontier," extends that perspective and insight
from crossdressers to transsexuals -- the wider, rapidly-growing community of
people who are increasingly asserting their right and desire to define gender
for themselves -- and who, as a result, profoundly call into question the
traditional notion that gender is a polar issue -- male or female -- defined at
birth by the shape and nature of a person's genitals.
What distinguishes Allen's photography from so many other images of people
who fall outside conventional notions of male-female polarity is the depth of
her understanding of, and identification with, the people she is photographing.
For 25 years, Allen has immersed herself in the transgender world -- attending
transgender conventions and gatherings, participating in protests and
lobbying efforts around transgender issues -- developing close friendships with
dozens of transgender individuals along the way. Wherever Allen has gone, her
camera has gone with her -- recording, documenting, probing everything from mass
public action to intimate personal involvements. Over time, she has come to be
trusted and welcomed by the transgender community as a true friend and
fellow-traveler -- someone who is not only sympathetic to the issues of transgender
equality, but who also understands that the issues raised by transgender people
are important for non-transgender people too. As a result of that trust, Allen
is able to photograph her friends and subjects at a level of intimacy and
honesty not available to someone who comes to transgender issues as an outsider.
Because she refuses to see her transgender subjects as people fundamentally
different from herself, Allen's photographs challenge the reflexive urge of
non-transgender people to draw cut-and-dried lines between Us and Them, Self and
Other. Because she sees breaking down rigid notions of gender as an important
personal and political dynamic for everyone, Allen's photography pushes
non-transgender people to see that the people who define their gender in
unconventional ways are fundamentally people very much like the rest of us, rather than
people who are somehow alien souls.
Overcoming a sense of separation between people living outside social
acceptability and people who stay within the boundaries of social norms and privilege
is no small feat when the subject in question is gender variation.
Traditional notions of gender powerfully color how we order, classify, and make sense
out of ourselves and the world around us. It's hardly surprising that most of us
therefore hold on to our notions of gender order and classification tightly,
rigidly, and that we easily diminish individuals who fall outside the realm of
gender respectability from people to phenomena, from first-class citizens to
freaks, from members of the human family to strange visitors from some great
beyond. We may treat these outsiders with deference rather than hostility, with
curiosity rather than disdain, but most of us tend to see people who we can't
easily classify as men or women as outsiders nevertheless.
Perhaps the most remarkable quality of the photos in "The Gender Frontier" is
that they work so effectively to kick us out of these divisive, dismissive
habits. Allen's ability to relate to her subjects as true friends, intimates,
and fellow-travelers on the road of life is transmitted by her photographs to
viewers who may be far less familiar with this growing community of gender
pioneers. Her camera consistently incorporates the respect with which Allen sees
her subjects, her appreciation of their fundamental humanity, and her
identification with their particular struggle to overcome widespread fear and
misunderstanding. Her photographs offer her inclusive, affectionate vision to us --
inviting us to come inside the illuminating, and in many ways transformative,
possibilities that are created when we leave traditional notions of gender and
gender immutability behind.
When we look at the photos in "The Gender Frontier," we are vividly aware
that the people in these images do not conform to the fixed notions of man and
woman, male and female, that are the staples of our daily diet of gender
confirmation and reassurance. As we turn the pages, we are gradually but powerfully
inundated with images -- sometimes striking, sometimes quite mundane -- of
people we cannot easily identify, classify, sort, and file into the well-worn
categories of our severely limited gender vocabulary. And yet, on another level,
we cannot help but notice that these uncategorizable photographic subjects are
simply people pursuing the same joys, suffering many of the same frustrations,
asking for the same basic satisfactions from their lives as everyone else.
Cas, a female-to-male transsexual who has had to endure the refusal of most
of his family to accept his transsexuality, plays affectionately with his
infant grandchild while his daughter smiles her appreciation and love. Marla, a
painter, sculptor, and writer who used to be an undercover narcotics agent named
Mike, paints with her perhaps-10-year-old daughter, both of their attentions
riveted to the canvas. Maxwell and Corissa, both transgender, share an
affectionate kiss in a suds-filled bathtub.
Each photo is a testament to the possibility of experiencing life's most
basic joys, even if one dares to violate some of society's most basic expectations
and dictates. Each photo affirms the universality of certain human
experiences, no matter how atypical a person's sense of self may be.
Other photos in "The Gender Frontier" document experiences, struggles, and
issues that are specific to the transgender community -- often issues of
fighting against injustice and inequality. Robert Eads says farewell to hundreds of
fellow transsexuals two months before dying of ovarian cancer that twenty
doctors and three hospitals refused to treat because Robert did not fit into their
notions of male and female. A transgender woman dissolves into tears while
speaking at the memorial for her friend, Amanda Milan, a male-to-female
transsexual viciously murdered in New York while a line of cab drivers watched and
cheered. A series of photos follow Tonye's transition to Tony, her shift from
female to male, including vivid images of both Tonye's double mastectomy and
Tony's phalloplasty (penis construction).
People whose natures call up other people's fears and biases have to deal
with issues that more conventionally-oriented individuals are privileged to
ignore. But the issues that each transgender person must face in deciding to honor
their internal sense of gender are issues that other people must deal with as
well, albeit in substantially less wrenching ways. How much do any of us give
up aspects of who we are in order to accommodate the expectations and comfort
needs of the people around us? How much do we limit our sense of self and of
life to avoid potential hostility, condemnation, or even disapproval of our
friends and family? How much do we insist, explicitly or implicitly, that the
people around us fulfill our detailed expectations of them, lest they force us to
examine uncomfortable issues and feelings within ourselves?
These are the sorts of questions that Mariette Pathy Allen raises with "The
Gender Frontier." One section of the book, devoted to political activism around
transgender issues, documents the growing movements to extend equal rights to
transgender people, and to protest the extreme violence that transgender
people so often encounter. The other three sections of the book -- dealing with
youth, portraits, and more extensive narratives of selected individuals -- focus
on more personal expositions of what it means to live one's life outside
traditional gender definitions.
There was a slogan during the political activism of the 1960s and 70s,
affirming that "the personal is political" -- that all the details of how people
lead their personal lives have political content and political consequence.
Nowhere is this more true than around questions of sex and gender, where what
should properly be the most individual and personal of choices often subjects
individuals to fierce social and political punishment, ranging anywhere from social
disapproval to active discrimination to arrest to physical violence.
Mariette Pathy Allen has long been campaigning with her camera for
understanding, acceptance, and personal growth around the questions of gender, gender
diffusion, and gender fluidity. "The Gender Frontier" presents a sampling of her
voluminous work on these issues in book form for the first time. It is a look
into the heart of the gender matrix well worth experiencing.
