Scan barcode
carise's review against another edition
4.0
*Content Warning: sexual abuse, suicide*
Alexina Barbin, as she referred to herself, was an intersex woman who lived in the mid-1800’s (before the term ‘intersex’ emerged). She studied in a convent in Southwestern France from a young age, and eventually became a teacher there. She was assigned female at birth, but in her early twenties, she was legally reassigned male and forced to live in society as such. Upon her death in 1868, she left behind memoirs, which Michel Foucault discovered in the 1970’s and republished with an introduction. Alongside these memoirs, this volume includes a dossier of medical reports from the physicians who subjected her to invasive medical examinations both before and after her death. Throughout her life she went by many names and labels, understandably, though most of them were imposed by those around her.
This is a difficult book to review. I’m going to do so briefly in three parts: Alexina’s memoirs, the medical reports, and finally Foucault’s commentary.
The memoirs themselves are eloquently written, and Alexina just excelled at expressing emotions through her writing. Few memoirs move me the way this did. As she is forced to live in poverty in Paris, she articulates fears of being brought to the attention of the police, the abandonment by those she knew who might have otherwise assisted in her livelihood, and her isolation as she became separated from the social class of other women. Due to the pain, despair, and desperation she endured having to leave everything she knew behind her and live as male, Alexina died by suicide at 29 years old.
Then there are the doctors… honestly, this part fills me with anger, and it brought me close to tears. The physicians who came in contact with Alexina throughout her life were despicable people, and the abuse she suffered at the hands of the medical and religious establishments in France was unforgivable. They dehumanized and objectified her with invasive examinations, against her consent, and the reports in this volume are simply pages of grotesque descriptions of her body that none of us have a right to read. Consequently, I couldn’t read them. As other readers have noted, reading these portions of text feels intrusive and their very publication is an act of violence.
While Foucault provides great context in his introduction, he inconsistently genders Alexina, while simultaneously dramatizing her life as “an unfortunate hero of the quest for identity” (pp. xii). One of the most upsetting things about the conversations about Alexina has been the degree of carelessness, apathy, almost playful attitude with which people refer to her. Foucault’s commentary in particular has certainly been criticized from several angles; honestly, I don’t think it would honour Alexina’s life to provide my own opinion on this. I think even the way Foucault presents his insights, regardless of their validity, is in itself insensitive.
I’m not intersex. I’m a transgender woman, and the identities and worlds Alexina and I have inhabited are starkly different. Yet, so much of her story resonates with me on a deeply personal level, so much so that I’m not going to expand here. I have nothing but contempt for society’s abuse of non-conforming bodies, and the archaic practice of sex assignment. I think listening to intersex voices today—those who have the choice to be publicized—is a more productive form of allyship, and one that we need to engage with more.
Alexina Barbin, as she referred to herself, was an intersex woman who lived in the mid-1800’s (before the term ‘intersex’ emerged). She studied in a convent in Southwestern France from a young age, and eventually became a teacher there. She was assigned female at birth, but in her early twenties, she was legally reassigned male and forced to live in society as such. Upon her death in 1868, she left behind memoirs, which Michel Foucault discovered in the 1970’s and republished with an introduction. Alongside these memoirs, this volume includes a dossier of medical reports from the physicians who subjected her to invasive medical examinations both before and after her death. Throughout her life she went by many names and labels, understandably, though most of them were imposed by those around her.
This is a difficult book to review. I’m going to do so briefly in three parts: Alexina’s memoirs, the medical reports, and finally Foucault’s commentary.
The memoirs themselves are eloquently written, and Alexina just excelled at expressing emotions through her writing. Few memoirs move me the way this did. As she is forced to live in poverty in Paris, she articulates fears of being brought to the attention of the police, the abandonment by those she knew who might have otherwise assisted in her livelihood, and her isolation as she became separated from the social class of other women. Due to the pain, despair, and desperation she endured having to leave everything she knew behind her and live as male, Alexina died by suicide at 29 years old.
Then there are the doctors… honestly, this part fills me with anger, and it brought me close to tears. The physicians who came in contact with Alexina throughout her life were despicable people, and the abuse she suffered at the hands of the medical and religious establishments in France was unforgivable. They dehumanized and objectified her with invasive examinations, against her consent, and the reports in this volume are simply pages of grotesque descriptions of her body that none of us have a right to read. Consequently, I couldn’t read them. As other readers have noted, reading these portions of text feels intrusive and their very publication is an act of violence.
While Foucault provides great context in his introduction, he inconsistently genders Alexina, while simultaneously dramatizing her life as “an unfortunate hero of the quest for identity” (pp. xii). One of the most upsetting things about the conversations about Alexina has been the degree of carelessness, apathy, almost playful attitude with which people refer to her. Foucault’s commentary in particular has certainly been criticized from several angles; honestly, I don’t think it would honour Alexina’s life to provide my own opinion on this. I think even the way Foucault presents his insights, regardless of their validity, is in itself insensitive.
I’m not intersex. I’m a transgender woman, and the identities and worlds Alexina and I have inhabited are starkly different. Yet, so much of her story resonates with me on a deeply personal level, so much so that I’m not going to expand here. I have nothing but contempt for society’s abuse of non-conforming bodies, and the archaic practice of sex assignment. I think listening to intersex voices today—those who have the choice to be publicized—is a more productive form of allyship, and one that we need to engage with more.
ejkimberley's review
4.0
This is a work of tremendous importance, for its capturing a portion if not the entirety of the experiences of a 19th-century French intersex individual, Alexina (as known to family and friends), as she navigates love, education, vocational training, and ultimate confrontation with her intersex status. The work is unavoidably tragic in its outcome, but certainly no less moving for that fact.
The text is best known via Foucault's printing of it, and thence the English translation thereof. This also collects various supporting documents. However, Alexina's own account of herself and her experiences is the pearl to be cherished here. By comparison, dated commentaries on the case (by Foucault and physicians who examined Alexina) are of limited present value, save for in their furnishing certain cold biographical details.
The text is best known via Foucault's printing of it, and thence the English translation thereof. This also collects various supporting documents. However, Alexina's own account of herself and her experiences is the pearl to be cherished here. By comparison, dated commentaries on the case (by Foucault and physicians who examined Alexina) are of limited present value, save for in their furnishing certain cold biographical details.
sebast_torr's review against another edition
4.0
A depressing memoir into the true beauty of being loved. Another example of just how far intersex people have come but, also painting a more nuanced portrait of the people that we try to view as a monolith of hate and bigotry.
Happy I read it but, I don’t believe I shall ever read it again. In particular because of the ending discussions of an autopsy felt far to invasive and private given the subject of the book and how the memoir itself was written. This is something I felt that the story should have done with out.
Happy I read it but, I don’t believe I shall ever read it again. In particular because of the ending discussions of an autopsy felt far to invasive and private given the subject of the book and how the memoir itself was written. This is something I felt that the story should have done with out.
vaporization's review against another edition
The context in which Barbin's "memoirs" have been published is awful. Reading just the "memoirs/memories" portion leaves me a bit confused as to why Barbin is so consistently gendered as female (by Foucault at least, though it doesn't feel that surprising from him) despite showing masculine self-identification even before their condition is publicly revealed, and he/Camille thinks of himself before his transition as "a young man among girls." The incredibly sad final portion of Barbin's story is very much the consequences of the difficulties of socially transitioning and lack of support.
Although Barbin was intersex, he was raised as a woman and later lived as a man, so his experiences, at least socially, very much resemble that of a trans man. The intersection of lesbian and transmasc experiences is still a thing that people don't really seem to get today (cue J.K. Rowling and her band of terfs saying trans men are "lost lesbian sisters"). Although intersex conditions are far better understood today, it feels like there has been a depressing lack of progress for trans people. Camille/Barbin's story seems all too heartbreakingly familiar to contemporary stories of/by trans people.
Won't rate because I can't reconcile my desires to show Barbin respect and show Foucault disrespect.
Although Barbin was intersex, he was raised as a woman and later lived as a man, so his experiences, at least socially, very much resemble that of a trans man. The intersection of lesbian and transmasc experiences is still a thing that people don't really seem to get today (cue J.K. Rowling and her band of terfs saying trans men are "lost lesbian sisters"). Although intersex conditions are far better understood today, it feels like there has been a depressing lack of progress for trans people. Camille/Barbin's story seems all too heartbreakingly familiar to contemporary stories of/by trans people.
Won't rate because I can't reconcile my desires to show Barbin respect and show Foucault disrespect.
jaslouis's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.75
Distressing but beautiful.
I believe it may have lost in translation to English.
Rating of the translation/editing. Feels wrong to rate the content.
I believe it may have lost in translation to English.
Rating of the translation/editing. Feels wrong to rate the content.
mellowbry's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
relaxing
slow-paced
3.25
This book is too essential regardless of my rating. READ IT
senka's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
slow-paced
3.25