Women's History Month - an update on Dr Barry and gendering
James Barry is an interesting person and illustrates just how we assume gender. A friend pointed out that Barry did not identify as female. She's right, all the identifications come from outside. This means, that, in modern terms Barry has quite as much chance of being male as female, but without access to the modern medicine that allows people to confirm this, physically. And Helen's right - her sources state that Barry was female and give evidence. How is it that both of them are right?
My feeling is that we know he was identified as female at birth, but we also know he identified male throughout his adult life. The gender identification was confirmed after his death, which means Barry didn't get a say in it, and yet, Barry's gender was his own. Did he undertake a charade because it was the only way of practising medicine? Or was he just being himself? These questions lead to a much more complex question - how do we understand gender in a society that limited what women could do, but that also had no medical means of gender confirmation? Can we make a simple choice for Barry?
This is a different kind of silencing and terribly important. When historians discuss someone from outside evidence and don't have access to a person's own thoughts, they're working from secondary evidence only. It's lacking in some crucial elements. In this instance, the element is *particularly* crucial - there is more than one possible Barry, given the lack of his own voice. In historian's terms, the evidence is inconclusive.
One thing I must, say, however, is that his presentation as male was so consistent that it was hard to find out his original name. This suggests, to me, that it was important to him. This is why when my friend pointed out the problem, I started drafting this blogpost. Peoples' view of themselves should never be dismissed in favour of a cool piece of data. First formally qualified female doctor in modern medicine, maybe. Or maybe not.
To balance this uncertainty: there were female doctors in the Middle Ages, including one of the most famous researchers of the last thousand years. So Barry can be himself (and respected as himself) and women's history can rejoice in him leading his own life and claim Trotula of Salerno as one of the first professional medical educational leaders in the West. We do not need to silence Barry's life choices to celebrate women's history. We just have to note that Barry's contribution to women's history may well be through his role as a medical practitioner, rather than because of his gender.
*I'm using 'he' throughout this because we don't know, but we do know he presented as male throughout his adult life and also because it gives everyone another way of reading Helen's piece - this is one of those issues where we have to do our own thinking and make up our own minds, there the critical bit of evidence (Barry's view of himself) is missing.
My feeling is that we know he was identified as female at birth, but we also know he identified male throughout his adult life. The gender identification was confirmed after his death, which means Barry didn't get a say in it, and yet, Barry's gender was his own. Did he undertake a charade because it was the only way of practising medicine? Or was he just being himself? These questions lead to a much more complex question - how do we understand gender in a society that limited what women could do, but that also had no medical means of gender confirmation? Can we make a simple choice for Barry?
This is a different kind of silencing and terribly important. When historians discuss someone from outside evidence and don't have access to a person's own thoughts, they're working from secondary evidence only. It's lacking in some crucial elements. In this instance, the element is *particularly* crucial - there is more than one possible Barry, given the lack of his own voice. In historian's terms, the evidence is inconclusive.
One thing I must, say, however, is that his presentation as male was so consistent that it was hard to find out his original name. This suggests, to me, that it was important to him. This is why when my friend pointed out the problem, I started drafting this blogpost. Peoples' view of themselves should never be dismissed in favour of a cool piece of data. First formally qualified female doctor in modern medicine, maybe. Or maybe not.
To balance this uncertainty: there were female doctors in the Middle Ages, including one of the most famous researchers of the last thousand years. So Barry can be himself (and respected as himself) and women's history can rejoice in him leading his own life and claim Trotula of Salerno as one of the first professional medical educational leaders in the West. We do not need to silence Barry's life choices to celebrate women's history. We just have to note that Barry's contribution to women's history may well be through his role as a medical practitioner, rather than because of his gender.
*I'm using 'he' throughout this because we don't know, but we do know he presented as male throughout his adult life and also because it gives everyone another way of reading Helen's piece - this is one of those issues where we have to do our own thinking and make up our own minds, there the critical bit of evidence (Barry's view of himself) is missing.