Close, But Not Quite

This week, Andrew Sullivan published a 19th-century photo (c. 1870s) submitted by a reader who claimed that it depicts "a would-be transsexual." The person in question (far left) has not been positively identified, but he/she has short hair and the photo is labeled, "Howard."

Another reader wrote in to make the eminently reasonable point that we should not jump to conclusions when we view historical materials with 21st-century eyes:

Sometimes viewing things through a 21st century lens can be very misleading. I think there is a pretty good chance this young man is just a late bloomer and not a transsexual.  Most noticeably, he does not appear to be making any attempt to actually look like a girl.  He's just in a dress.  Of course I may be wrong, as I'm not an expert on the history of the practice of breeching, but I remember seeing pictures of my grandfather in a dress when he was at least five or six and nobody assumed he was a transsexual.

Close, but not quite.

First, dresses were for children — boys were breeched when they were kindergarten age. The person in the photo is an adolescent, not a child. Victorian boys sometimes wore military-style tunics over blousy pants until age 10 or 12, but this person is wearing an adolescent girl's dress.

Second, the reader is wrong when he/she says that there is no "attempt to actually look like a girl." As we've seen before, hair parted in the center is a strong indicator that the subject is female. The other adolescent in this picture has a more cutting-edge hairstyle: bangs. The prop, a parasol, is also a strong signifier of femininity.

The second reader makes a good point about the conclusions drawn by the first, but his/her supporting evidence falls short. Still, I am inclined to be skeptical about the possibility that the photo depicts a young boy. The original poster just makes too many assumptions. For instance, the person on the left looks like a boy to us because he/she has short hair. Yet, Victorian girls sometimes sported brutally short haircuts, particularly when they were recovering from serious illnesses. When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.

Could this be a photo of a boy in a dress? Sure. But I wouldn't bet on it.

Guest Post: Jack-Boots and Broken Windows

Over the next few days, I will be featuring the work of several talented undergraduates who have agreed to have their research projects featured as guest posts. The papers are longer than normal posts, but I thought that readers of this blog might be interested in reading more about Revolutionary-era Boston. All formatting errors are mine — I lost some details (such as italics) in the transfer from Word to Blogger.


Today's guest poster is Allan Bradley, who used John Boyle's journal to examine popular resistance to the Stamp Act.

On the night of November 5th, 1764, rough Boston maritime workers divided into two mobs, the North End and the South End, and each built a cart carrying an effigy of the Pope. After darkness fell, they engaged in a violent battle, each side attempting to steal the other’s cart and effigy.  After half an hour of combat with clubs, staves, and brick-bats, the South End captured the North End’s effigy and burned both on Boston Neck.  It was a yearly ritual; each November 5th, the Pope met the same fiery fate at the hands of the working men of Boston, who fought for the privilege of burning the effigy of that hated enemy to English liberty.  Pope’s Day of 1764 was particularly violent, and a young printer’s apprentice named John Boyle recorded in his journal: “A Child of Mr. Brown’s at the North-End run over by one of the Wheels of the North-End Pope and killed on the Spot.  Many others were wounded in the evening.” [1]