Trans Metaphor in Thoreau's 'Walden'
As someone born on the cusp of Generation Z, I find 19th-century non-fiction like Henry David Thoreau’s Walden challenging to parse. While the English language has not made any drastic changes since then, I still need frequent pauses to look up definitions of formal and colloquial words that haven't been used in decades, and to make educated guesses as to what certain historical allusions refer to and why they're being used. However, a passage occasionally speaks to me such that it feels like no time has passed between its writing and my reading. Of all the topics Thoreau addresses, one passage concerning clothing spoke directly to my experience as a non-binary person.
For those unfamiliar, Walden begins with a lengthy chapter titled “Economy,” in which Thoreau outlines the specifics and purpose of his two-year plan to construct and live in a small cabin by Walden Pond. To justify this venture, he waxes at length about various aspects of life that one could simplify: steps one could take to live more economically. Regarding clothing, for example, beyond the practicality of keeping oneself warm and “covering nakedness,” Thoreau argues that society concerns itself too much with novelty or making a good impression. As long as what we already own serves its basic function, we shouldn’t feel the need to buy more. We should only obtain new clothing when we recognize that our old clothes no longer serve the person that we are now. He compares this situation to “keeping new wine in old bottles.” As someone who has transitioned, that last phrase lit up my brain like a Christmas tree.
Throughout my teens, I recognized that my birth gender didn’t match the way I perceived myself, but I couldn’t yet articulate a proper replacement. “A feminine man” didn’t satisfy, but neither did “a transgender woman.” I felt lost, which led to a profound sense of alienation that negatively impacted my ability to function as a student and a person for several years. It wasn’t until I discovered the term “non-binary” at age 20 that I finally reached a breakthrough. Free from the pressures to conform to a gender binary, I gained the confidence to adopt the name “Beatriz” and came out to my peers later that year. My wine at last had its new bottle. Having these labels as a foundation now allows me freedom to exist in whatever manner I feel most comfortable. Regardless of how masculine or feminine my appearance may be, at my core, I am still Beatriz, and I am still non-binary.
That being said, remnants of my old bottle still linger. My driver's license and debit card still bear my birth name, and interactions with my parents remain uncomfortable. The tension of “sailing under false colors,” to use another phrase of Thoreau’s, will likely follow me until I can no longer worry about the discrepancy between my legal and chosen names. Until then, friends, peers, and strangers see me and use my true name when I ask them to. When I place a food order, post something on the Internet, or sign my work, such instances present even further opportunities to affirm my identity. Coming out seven years ago has not fixed all of my problems, but it has made my life easier to navigate, being able to claim it entirely for myself.
In the original text, Thoreau doesn't elaborate on how one may “conduct, so enterprise, or sail” to become a new man needing new clothes. Even if taken in the context of his self-sufficiency experiment, he only brings it up as an example of how unnecessarily wasteful and extravagant most people are with their clothing. He certainly couldn't have possibly conceived of a person changing from one gender to another when he wrote his novel 170 years ago. Yet it's impossible not to interpret it that way through a modern lens. Examples of taking on a new job or moving from the working class to the bourgeoisie seem almost quaint. Thus, I find it entirely appropriate to adopt Thoreau's wine bottle metaphor as representing the transgender experience. May we all be so lucky to take similarly epiphanic journeys in our lives as Thoreau underwent, living in the woods as a self-made man.
ANNOUNCEMENT CORNER
- I started the draft for this piece last week, but fell into a brief depression spiral and found myself unable to complete it until today. I will continue with my original plan of releasing two to three items per week from here on out. Expect pieces on The Last of Us: Part II and The Righteous Gemstones soon. Thank you for understanding!
- Nickel Boys is now available to stream on Prime Video. It's tied with The Substance as my favorite film from last year, and I highly recommend it to anyone who felt that 12 Years a Slave wasn't emotionally devastating enough.