Transcending the Historiography: The Life of Dr. Alan L. Hart

Dr. Alan L. Hart was an American physician and author, known for his pioneering work in radiology and tuberculous prevention. His implimentation of x-rays for TB screenings helped save thousands of lives. He was also the first known transman in the United States to undergo gender affirmation surgery. This year marks the centennial of his transition.

^{Dr. Alan L. Hart}

Hart was born October 4, 1890 in Kansas, and grew up in Oregon – first Linn County, then Albany. As a child, he performed traditionally masculine roles on his grandfather's farm and played with other boys. In school, he used a male pseudonym for his essay assignments, in which he centered on traditionally masculine subject matter, going so far as to describe his female classmates as prizefighters and basketball players. From a very early age, Hart defied gender norms.

Throughout college and medical school, Hart's inclination towards a traditionally male identity, his "same-sex" attraction, and his disillusionment with sexism in the working world grew. Upon graduating and being issued a degree in 1917 under his birth name, he worked at a Red Cross hospital in Philadelphia for a time while presenting as a woman.

It was during this time that Hart sought the aid of a physician named Allen Gilbert. Understanding his inclinations to be resultant of an "inverted sex drive" (or a homosexual orientation), Gilbert attempted to "cure" Hart through hypnosis. Dissatisfied with this unsuccessful treatment regimen, Hart requested a hysterectomy, citing the age-old eugenics argument – that people like him ought to be sterilized.

In the winter of 1917-1918, Hart transitioned. From the perspective of the medical establishment of the time, his hysterectomy made him officially male in sex. Meanwhile, his new name and change in wardrobe allowed him to pass as a man in his daily life. However, Hart's identity was repeatedly challenged, proving a terrible strain on his resources and personal relationships. Throughout his life, he was forced to move to avoid being outed, rejected or worse.

^{Article from Tuesday, March 26th, 1918 (courtesy of Newspapers.com)}

The first incident was documented in March of 1918 in the Albany Daily Democrat. In the article, Gilbert is quoted –

"Thorough examination, both physical and psychological, made it perfectly evident that, to all intents and purposes, previous life had been a continuous masquerade of a male in woman's clothing though, from a physical standpoint, the predominant type was that of a female ... Under these conditions, it seemed advisable to assume the more consistent and natural role of male, in spite of partial physical lack of harmony with the male type."

Hart is then quoted –

"I have long suspected my condition and now I know. I had not intended to make it known on account of the embarrassment which it might cause on the part of former associates. But since it is out the best thing to do is to tell the facts as they are. I have never concealed anything ... I came home to show my friends that I am ashamed of nothing."

Both the description of Hart's transition and his defiant attitude about being outed seemingly belie the inhospitable historical context. Still, we must bear in mind the mutability of the nascent field of sexual science and psychology during this time. As the first known case of a transman's gender affirmation surgery in the U.S., we find that both Hart and his contemporaries were free to interpret transgender identity in a way that contrasts with the (often monolithic) conceptions of today.

Hart wanted to be remembered as a man, ordering his letters and photos to be destroyed upon his death. Out of respect to his memory, his widow, Edna Ruddick Hart, also refused interviews with researchers. Hart's life and legacy expose issues within the historiography. When examining the lives of such iconic figures in the queer community, we often neglect the agency of the historical actors themselves. Our popular, collective imagination brings into being a living, breathing narrative to be shared by all – through which we seek to be empowered. But it is often built on negligent and oversimplified accounts of individual lives.

Consider the use of words like "deception" to describe the act of passing or going stealth. Or the use of incorrect pronouns to describe trans people's lives before transitioning. These issues run rampant in the historiography. Also consider Jonathan Ned Katz's research into the life of Hart. Katz, the grandfather of LGBT history, was the one to identify Hart as an anonymous psychiatric case in a study published by Gilbert. But, as was common with the early queer canon, cookie cutter narratives of liberation covered over the complex, contextual experiences of everyday people. Katz claimed Hart was, in fact, a lesbian passing as a man for the sake of the times. Queer organizations followed suit, latching onto the idea of queer, female historical celebrity. But, with the rise of the trans community's political voice, Hart's history was eventually reclaimed.

Hart's life (and his life after death) pose the eternal conundrum that exists at the cross section of politics and historiography. Here's to one hundred years, Dr. Hart. Live your truth.

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^{100% of the SBD rewards from this #explore1918 post will support the Philadelphia History Initiative @phillyhistory. This crypto-experiment is part of a graduate course at Temple University's Center for Public History and is exploring history and empowering education to endow meaning. To learn more click here.}