A few months ago, an article about Elke Mackenzie, a twentieth century lichenologist, got passed around via social media with this post as the preface:
Thinking about the trans lichenologist who, while still mostly closeted and publishing under her deadname, thanked herself under her chosen name in the acknowledgements of a scientific paper. (via tumblr user tam–lin)
Besides being a fascinating glimpse into the world of the fungi-algae-plant-thing that I’ve never given a second glance towards, the people sharing the article praised it for how it treated Elke: refusing to mention her dead name despite most of her work being under it, presenting her as another person with a story to tell rather than an oddity. When I clicked on her obituary, linked in the piece, her deadname was in the first line. I felt dirty reading the name that did not describe who she was.
Sabrina Imbler, the author, highlights how important and foundational Mackenzie’s work was to the field. Imbler also doesn’t shy away from the difficulties that came with Mackenzie’s transition. She speculates that Mackenzie retired early from her position as director of the Farlow Herbarium at Harvard due to her transition and notes that the present-day constant deadnaming and misgendering of Mackenzie’s work still occurs but doesn’t make sense—Mackenzie put the correct name herself in her acknowledgments and publicly transitioned in her sixties.
I appreciated that Mackenzie’s story as told through Imbler did not solely focus on her trans identity, but I am still thinking about her and this article, though, because of it.
There are a few trans content creators whose work I follow, and one of them mentioned Wendy Carlos, a prominent electronic musician. Her work, particularly Switched-On Bach (not linked here as she has prohibited her music from being on any streaming platform) and the soundtracks of A Clockwork Orange and Tron, has been massively influential in the field of music. She’s had a complicated relationship with the media—not wanting her work to be overshadowed by her identity, expressing frustration over the years when she had to keep up a gender charade—and is very clear with her disinterest in public attention these days.
As a cis woman, a part of me wonders if it is alright to link these two women together in this piece merely because they are some of the only historical (even that is a stretch—Carlos is still alive) trans women I have recently become aware of. The only other woman who comes to mind when I think of prominent trans women is Marsha P. Johnson. But I’m writing about both, even if they are only connected by gender, because I want you to know them.
I want you to know about Mackenzie and Carlos—their care for their work, their meticulous attention to the small, and yes, their shared experience of being an out trans woman in the twentieth century. I am moved by their deep knowledge of self and their unwillingness to mask who they are, even in a world that will probably continue to get it wrong. I admire the care and dedication they took in moving their worlds—lichen and electronic music—to new frontiers. I am thinking about them particularly as a teacher, one who is lucky enough to support trans teenagers and who also has a concerned eye on the attacks on trans rights going on in Texas.
I have a feeling that I am not the only one who has some gaps in their knowledge when it comes to trans figures. But thanks to the power of the internet and the LGBTQ+ community who shares this history and makes this history, I am learning. And I am all the better for it. Listening in on what trans people share online, reading works, like Cemetery Boys, that center trans voices, learning about people like Elke Mackenzie and Wendy Carlos: all have deepened not only my understanding of the people around me but also my understanding of my own gender identity—what it can look like and why it matters.
Trans stories are our stories. We should know and celebrate them.
P.S. If you are a cisgender person (if you don’t know what cisgender means, the answer is probably yes), I highly recommend asking yourselves this series of questions from Heather Flowers. Gender identity (and gender expression) exploration is for all.
Alex Johnson (‘19) is a virtual computer science teacher and a proud resident of Grand Rapids. When she’s not brainstorming the newest project to inflict on her students, she’s cooking semi-vegetarian food, reading too many romance books, and playing rhythm games.
