The historian’s Queer Enlightenments profiles queer and gender-nonconforming figures of the 18th and early 19th centuries.
Why did you focus on the Enlightenment?
Over the course of my PhD, it became clear that Georgians, as we call them across the pond, asked some of the same questions about gender and sexuality that we are asking today—but they didn’t demand answers the same way we do. We have this quasi-Victorian idea that we must categorize and therefore control. I don’t want to suggest the Georgians were always respectful in the way they explored these questions, but they seemed to be more curious than concerned with control.
How do you approach queer history, given that many of these people would not identify with the labels we do now?
In history, we constantly use phrases, words, and ideas that people in those specific periods weren’t using. We employ everything at our disposal to tell a story from a different time. The word family doesn’t mean exactly what it meant in the 18th century, but nobody questions the use of that term. I’ve read so many books about 17th-century heterosexuality, but heterosexuality didn’t exist then. We have to grant the same grace to queerness and queer identities. We don’t have to tongue-tie ourselves, or we’ll be forced into corners where we cannot tell these histories.
Why did you choose this diverse group of individuals to highlight?
That changed over time. Some who I thought would fit into the book didn’t make it because I couldn’t confidently stand by the research. Some, like Anne Lister, I was determined not to include because I didn’t think there was much left to say, but I found out I was wrong. Others like Mary Jones [a Black gender-nonconforming sex worker]—who is the person I’m fondest of, if I’m allowed to be fond of any of them—I just kept coming back to. We know so little about Mary Jones, but she just fascinated me. She shows that sometimes all you have to do is just keep going, and that’s enough to make history. I find her ability to get back up every time incredibly inspiring.
What do you hope readers take from the book?
I’d like the queer community to feel their roots run so much deeper than we’ve previously been told. I really want queer people to find these histories, because they’re empowering. At least, they are for me. I’d also like for people beyond the community to look at history differently. History is an ongoing conversation about the past—it doesn’t stop, and there’s not a maturation point for history where we go, “Well, we’re done with that now. We’ve solved it. That’s the end of that.” It’s an ongoing conversation, not one that’s finished.
