being presented by sexologists. Sexological theories circulated, and were combined with more colloquial ways of defining normative behavior, to create alternative means of regulating social membership, in ways that should not be considered “behind” or “backward” but rather “alternative.” This alternative means of boundary definition, as this chapter will show, provided opportunities for trans men to gain acceptance and/or toleration in rural spaces at the turn of the twentieth century.
This formulation is dependent on a widening of Thompson’s application of “alternative modernity” from a state-specific application to refer instead to rural spaces and small towns more broadly. This is a significant shift in the historiography within the “rural turn” of queer studies. With the notable exception of Colin Johnson’s scholarship, much of the work within rural queer studies has been regional in its approach. For example, Peter Boag’s Re-dressing America’s Frontier Past investigates cross-dressing in the American frontier and argues that the specific historical realities of the frontier allowed for greater acceptance of gender transgressions than elsewhere in the nation. Boag correctly identifies the acceptance of cross-dressing in frontier communities, as well as common tropes through which Western cases of cross-dressing were discussed in national newspapers (“nineteenth-century sources typically found reasons for these female-to-male masquerades in the exigencies of western American settlement”).6 While this observation is absolutely true—national newspapers did commonly utilize tropes of the mythic West when discussing frontier cases of cross-dressing—the tolerance that cross-dressers found in frontier communities was actually quite similar to the tolerance that trans men were able to negotiate and build for themselves in rural communities throughout the nation.7 Indeed, as this chapter will illustrate, trans men were able to find tolerance in rural communities throughout the United States, from Virginia to Montana, from New York to Mississippi.
George Green
In the mid-to-late 1860s, a trans man who went by the name of George Green married Mary Biddle in Erie, Pennsylvania. There is little trace of the details of how they met, or the nature of their relationship, but we can glean something of their lives together from extant census records. It appears that George Green was born in England in 1833 and immigrated to the United States in 1865 at the age of thirty-two.8 Less is known about George’s wife; newspaper reports published upon George’s death suggested that she was married once before her marriage to George, but the veracity of those accounts cannot be determined. However, what is clear is that when Mary and George tied the knot around 1867, they both were above the average age of first marriage (Mary being twenty-six and George being thirty-four).
It is unclear where George and Mary lived immediately following their Pennsylvania marriage, but at some point in the 1870s the couple moved to the rural countryside seventy miles outside of Raleigh, North Carolina.9 The couple lived in this poor, racially mixed area for about twenty years, and by 1900 they were listed as having a mortgage on their own farm.10 At some point between 1900 and 1902, the couple moved 140 miles to the north, to the small town of Ettrick, Virginia, likely to be with family who lived in the area.11 Once they arrived in Ettrick, the couple blended in with their rural neighbors. Despite the fact that George was approaching seventy by this time, he worked as a farmhand. No one, from the neighbors to the men George worked with, suspected that anything was amiss. However, in the spring of 1902, George passed away after a brief illness. Given how seamlessly the couple had blended into the Ettrick community, their neighbors and friends were very surprised when they arrived to help prepare George’s body for burial, as it was only then that they realized his body lacked the anatomical components generally associated with masculinity.
Local newspapers12 suggest that the revelation of Green’s “true sex” was met not with condemnation, but rather with support for the fact that Green had been an honest and hardworking individual during his life. In fact, the Index-Appeal of nearby Petersburg, Virginia, suggested that any sensation elicited by the story was due not to the case itself, but rather was entirely driven by newspaper correspondents and editors of big-city papers who descended on the small town once word of the story had gotten out. The Index-Appeal reported, “The quiet and orderly community of Ettrick is about the last place that a newsmonger would look for a sensation, but as usual as it is the unexpected that has happened. Ettrick will wake up this morning to find itself famous all over the country wherever the Associated Press reaches and the enterprising correspondent has access. Ettrick has a genuine sensation.”13 Tellingly, the Index-Appeal chose to publish the story not on the front page, but rather in the “local news” section at the back of the paper, thereby suggesting that the widespread attention Green’s story was receiving was not entirely warranted.
Newspapers in Richmond devoted a bit more attention to Green’s story, and as with Petersburg’s Index-Appeal, this coverage was marked by sympathy rather than sensationalism. Richmond’s Times and Dispatch both emphasized how well Green played the part of a man. The Times remarked, “Daily has Green worked with men, and never [was there a] a suspicion that their companion was a woman.”14 Additionally, both papers emphasized how devoted Green’s wife had been. The first article published in the Richmond Dispatch reported, “Mrs. Green is overcome with grief and her sorrow at parting with her husband is as sincere and as genuine as has ever been witnessed.” The Times observed that “the wife is almost overcome with grief. No sorrow more profound or deeper was ever seen.”15 Such statements presented Green’s life as valuable in that he was sorely missed, and his widow’s grief was presented as sincere and understandable—not deviant or strange. These superlative statements describing Mary’s genuine grief and sincere sorrow had the additional effect of ensuring that she could go on living in the community without any negative repercussions.
As the coverage of Green’s case continued in the Richmond press, more details emerged about the nature of his marriage—details that helped to depict his life as laudable rather than abnormal. For example, in its second story on the case, the Times published an interview with Green’s widow wherein she explained the circumstances surrounding her marriage. Mary Green made clear that she did not know of her husband’s anatomy before they married, and once she learned of it, she decided to keep the secret to avoid embarrassing her husband. Since that day, she said, “we lived together as brother and sister.” Significantly, rather than criticize Mary Green’s choice as evidence of a pathology or sexual deviance, the Times endorsed her decision, writing, “Those who at first censured, now pity the woman, and recognize the nobility of character she has shown in carrying untold a sorrow, because it gave happiness to another. Her course is commended by everyone now, and those who dared offer suggestion against her, are repentant.”16 In this quote, the Times characterized Green’s marriage as one that no one else had the right to judge, despite its unconventional nature. Phrases such as “her course is commended by everyone now” suggest the universality of the paper’s assessment, making any further speculation of the motives behind the marriage—such as sexual deviance—seem foolish.
Despite its laudatory assessment of Mary Green as a self-sacrificing individual, the Times also made clear that she should not be considered a martyr, as George Green himself had been an honorable man. The paper quoted her as saying, “He was the noblest soul that ever lived. He has worked so hard through his life, and has been all I had to cheer me. No man can say he ever wronged him. He was a Christian and I believe he is now with Christ.”17 Apparently others in the community also shared this opinion of Green, as Petersburg’s Index-Appeal reported that Green’s funeral was held at St. Joseph’s Catholic church, conducted by Rev. J. T. O’Ferrell and that Green’s body was buried in the Catholic cemetery in Petersburg.18
As Green’s story circulated outside the local context to the pages of large metropolitan newspapers such as the San Francisco Call, the New York World, the Chicago Daily Tribune, and the Philadelphia Inquirer, it remained much the same as it appeared within the local press. This national coverage shared several common trends: most mentioned how well Green had played the part of a man, how contented his marriage had seemed, and rarely was any hypothesis offered as to why Green began living as a man.19
I will return to the implications of the national coverage of Green’s case later in this chapter. For now, I would like to suggest that the local newspaper accounts of George Green’s death can tell us a great deal about queer history in rural spaces. For one