Cheryl Morgan and Margarita Vaysman
Aleksandr Aleksandrov (1783-1866) was a Russian-Ukrainian hero of the Napoleonic wars and a celebrated trans author. His autobiography Notes of a Cavalry Maiden (1836), popular with nineteenth-century Russian readers, offered a first-person account of its protagonist’s gender transition: in 1806, Aleksandrov, who was assigned female at birth, joined the Russian army and served in several military campaigns. In 1808, by a special decree signed by the Tsar, he was awarded the Cross of St George and was officially allowed to use the name ‘Aleksandrov’. Aleksandrov retired in 1817 with the rank of Captain-Lieutenant and lived the rest of his life wearing civilian male clothes.
Despite—or because of—Aleksandrov’s obvious gender ambiguity, Notes (signed by his deadname ‘Nadezhda Durova’) has maintained an important place in Russian culture and popular military history for nearly two centuries. Two separate English translations appeared in 1988 and, as a result, Notes are now often included in British and North American university curricula. However, Aleksandrov’s transmasculine self-presentation, evident in the gendered grammar of the original Russian, was mostly lost in translation. In addition, very few secondary sources that could provide clues about how the public perceived Aleksandrov’s gender identity have been translated into English.
The two articles translated below first appeared in Russian popular history periodicals after Aleksandrov’s death in 1866. As overlooked examples of nineteenth-century trans life-writing, they demonstrate the surprisingly respectful attitudes to Aleksandrov’s gender nonconformity in the Russian Empire of the fin-de-siècle. More can be read about Aleksandrov in articles from AvtobiografiЯ, Slavic Review, and Modern Language Review.
Durov–Aleksandrov
(Biographical note)
In 1890, the biography of the famous heroine and author Nadezhda Andreevna Durova-Aleksandrova (Chernova by marriage), written by S. Nekrasova, was published in the September volume of the journal Historical Messenger. In it, the author of the biography expressed her regrets that almost no information is available about the period of Durova-Aleksandrova’s life in Elabuga, the town where she lived for twenty-five years until the end of her life.
I would like to fill this gap with the help of testimonials by her contemporaries who live in Elabuga to this day and who knew Durova well. However, the information and facts of Durova’s life that I have collected are not interesting enough to be discussed in great detail. Durova’s everyday life was too repetitive and monotonous; each day was the same as the other, for over a quarter of a century.
She settled in Elabuga at the start of 1841, having permanently ended her literary career with the publications Iarchuk, the Ghost-Seeing Dog and Corner. Critics had given Durova’s final works a rather cool reception. In his notes on Iarchuk, the renowned critic Vissarion Belinskii (1811–1848) stated that readers ‘struggled to understand anything in this mass of incoherent fables.’ Such is our modern literature! In a pile of books you see one with the name of an author (Durova, that is) whose first works demonstrated remarkable talent. You grab it eagerly, but what then? You read two or three pages and give up… Nothing is worse than betrayed expectations, nothing is harder than leafing through a chest of books ‘only to say, after all that, that they do not need to be read.’
It is difficult to say for certain what compelled her to fall completely silent and throw down her pen. I do not think, however, that it was linked to the insulted author’s ego, a lack of material, or a decline in physical and mental fortitude. Rather, her turbulent and ebullient military life and her intensive literary work (in her late career, she wrote a new novella nearly every day) gave way to a reaction in which energy and liveliness were replaced by indifference and apathy toward everything. She devoted herself to an utterly calm life devoid of any anxieties, a life that dragged on day in and day out.
She always rose very early—a habit she picked up during her prior military life, bolstered, no doubt, by the barks, yelps, and growls of a whole pack of seven or eight dogs. Durova loved dogs with a passion. Taking care of the dogs took up the best part of her day, served as the main source of her thoughts and cares, and gave her the greatest pleasure, joy and comfort. How long it must have taken to bathe, feed and nurse this pack. At seven or eight o’clock in the morning she would walk the dogs, and woe to any who got it into their heads to hurt them. Some paid for this seriously and were taken to court by her.
She was always in male attire: a long black frock coat and narrow trousers, a tall black hat on her head and a cane in her hands, on which she leaned. She endeavoured to walk as upright as her years and strength would allow and had a firm step. She always conducted herself as a man and was offended if she were addressed as a woman; if this happened, she would get angry and respond harshly. In one of her apartments, the name Durov was engraved on the windowpane, instead of displaying a calling card.
After her walk, she would return home and drink tea, which she loved very much. The dogs would sit at and under the table and also have their tea. At six or seven in the evening she would go for a walk again and would occasionally call at one of her neighbours on business related to her modest household. She was a cheerful conversationalist and very witty; she behaved simply and with no pretence, which at the time, according to one of her acquaintances, was a rarity, ‘especially from a person who held the rank of colonel.’
There were not many people in her immediate circle with whom she had a close friendly relationship, other than K. Spasskii, the priest at the St Nicholas Church, and the wife of the warden of the regional college, S—skaia. She was acquainted with Father Petr Kuliginskii, the priest of the Pokrov church and author of several texts on local regional history. Unfortunately, the notes and memoirs of this well-educated person, from which much information on Durova could have been gleaned, were passed on to a relative and lost. She visited her brother, former police master in Elabuga, very rarely and only out of necessity, mostly for feast days and birthdays. She did not maintain correspondence with anyone and only wrote to her son on rare occasions; however, none of her acquaintances remember her son coming to visit her in recent years. In general, it is said that the relationship between mother and son was cold, as if they were strangers to one another.
Durova did not like to remember the days of her former glory, her brave exploits and turbulent life; she could hardly be persuaded to talk about it, and her answers would be short and monosyllabic. How can this be explained? It was as if she was afraid to recall that distant past—which felt like a happy dream to her—so as to avoid troubling her spirit and disturbing her heart. No one saw her don her military uniform even on very important occasions and she avoided all public gatherings and celebrations.
She was more than indifferent to her literary fame and did not even keep her manuscripts. Some of them were gifted by her footman to his acquaintances. A manuscript describing her military campaigns was kept in the household of F—n until recently. One can suppose this was an excerpt from her Notes of a Cavalry Maiden.
She lived modestly but did not deny herself anything; she spent the entirety of her 1000 rouble pension and when she died her savings amounted to just one rouble. She had one footman for a servant; he served her until her death, bought himself a house and amassed a small capital. According to S—v, he still lives in Kazan, now a decrepit old man.
Prior to her death, she led an even more withdrawn and solitary life. Without exaggerating, one could say that her sole preoccupation was her dogs—she cared for them, bitterly mourned their deaths, and even, as was the case in S—v’s house, dug a grave for them in the garden herself.
Durova died quietly and calmly on 21 March 1866, at the age of 82. On 24 March, her friend K. Spasskii, archpriest of the St Nicholas Church, escorted her mortal remains to the cemetery of Trinity Church, where she was buried. ‘The funeral of the Cavalry Maiden was honoured by the local cadre battalion with an appropriate military convoy that escorted her body to the grave; an officer carried the Cross of St George; very few mourners attended the sad ceremony, as the procession was held very early.’
In the register of the St Nicholas Church for 1866, No. 2632, Part 3, the deceased is described as follows: ‘Deceased March 21st, 1866, buried March 24th, Staff Cavalry Master according to identification #2362 issued for retirement on April 24th, 1817, a noblewoman by birth and baptism, Nadezhda Andreevna Durova’. In the column on age, she was marked as having been 73 years old, and cause of death was stated as ‘old age’. Meanwhile, her gravestone lists her age as 78 and the date of death as 29 March 1866, whereas in her biography, published in the 1866 Viatka Province Gazette, her age was given as 73 and the date of death as 22 March. Without a doubt, she died on 21 March 1866 as this is recorded in the register by Archpriest Spasskii, but due to a lack of information he could not have known for certain her age at the time of death and wrote approximately that she was 73. If Durova had been 73 at the time of her death, then she would have been born in 1793 and not 1783, as is generally accepted. Yet it is known that Durova married Chernov on 25 October 1801, which refutes the above claims about her age. Finally, in the Historical Messenger, Mrs. Nekrasova indicates 1783 as the year Durova was born in accordance with an excerpt from the register.
Soon after Durova’s death, a modest tombstone was erected by her admirer and friend, Str—skaia. It consisted of a stone slab six quarters long [1.08m], four quarters high [72cm], three quarters wide [54cm] at the top and two [36cm] at the bottom. 25 years passed. Some of Durova’s friends died, others had left Elabuga, among them St-skaia. The tombstone was covered with sand, overgrown with moss and grass, receded into the ground, and the inscription on it could only be made out with the greatest difficulty, so it is not surprising that it was later somewhat amended. In 1890, a tradesman who knew Durova in his youth, Fadikhin, raised the slab from the ground, coated it in paint and redid its inscription in the same form it was before, adding only, according to him, the final words. From the attached image, we can see that the epitaph reads as follows:
Here lie the ashes of the servant of God
Nadezhda Andreevna Durova-
Aleksandrov.
Deceased 29th March 1866,
at 78 years old.
As restored by F. P. Fadikhin
As often tends to happen, the monument was not restored by some rich person (of whom there are many in Elabuga who personally knew Durova), but by a tradesman who did not do it for any selfish or aggrandising reasons, but out of the kindness of his heart, “in fond memory,” as he puts it, ‘of the once-famous female warrior.’
In conclusion, I must say that the title of my biographical note, Durov-Aleksandrov, was chosen for a reason. Durova always considered herself to be a man, wore male clothing, aspired to imitate the male manner, voice and gait, and did not permit herself to be addressed otherwise, particularly since Tsar Aleksandr I ordered her to call herself Aleksandrov. Let her be remembered in posterity as Durov-Aleksandrov, according to her own desire.
P.S. We learned recently that a citizen of Elabuga, P.K.U., intends to place a marble bust on Durova’s grave. All that remains is to wish that this wonderful idea be put into practice as soon as possible.
Translated by Charlotte Thomas, with Lev Nikulin, Cheryl Morgan, Esther Jones Russel, and Margarita Vaysman (eds.)
Source: N.A. Kutshe, ‘Durov–Aleksandrov (Biograficheskaia zametka)’, Istoricheskii vestnik, 55 (1894), 788–93.
Nadezhda Andreevna Durova. Materials for Her Biography.
Born 1790, Died 1863
Much has been said, both in print and in society, about the cavalry maiden Durova. Many have commented on her military life. All of this is now beginning to fade from memory, and only the first period of Durova’s life – her upbringing and time in the military, which were documented in print – remain for posterity. As for the later period of Durova’s life, the last days of her life, nothing remains but rumours distorting the truth. Published documents note neither the time nor the place of death of this remarkable person, let alone the circumstances preceding that event. The goal of this short essay is to lift the veil, even if just a little, on Nadezhda Andreevna Durova’s final act. Having at my direct disposal some of Durova’s letters, her photograph, which was taken a few days before her death, as well as other information, I hope to – at least partially – succeed in this task.
F.L.
At the beginning of the 1840s, the retired captain-lieutenant, Aleksandr Andreevich Aleksandrov, left the city of Sarapul to settle in the town of Elabuga, in the Viatka province.
To the day she died, N.A. Durova could not bear to be called by her existing female name, and so I will herein after refer to her by the name given to her, or rather authorized, by the Emperor Aleksandr I in 1807.
No one knew why captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov moved away, but everyone knew that this ‘captain-lieutenant’ was only a pseudonym for that ‘girl hussar’. Almost every day, people were drawn to Sarapul from surrounding villages in order to gawk at him, and that is not to mention the ordinary people of Sarapul itself who would not give the lady Knight of St George even a moment’s peace. Many were of the opinion that Aleksandrov decided to leave his birthplace after his father’s death (his mother had died previously) in an effort to erase from his heart forever the very memory of his female origin. Whatever the reasoning, here in Elabuga he was not disturbed as much, although during his first few days there was of course a crowd of curious onlookers.
At that time, the post of the police master, in Elabuga was held by one Eduard Osipovich Erlich, a pleasant and sociable German. He was the first person in the city with whom captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov had to become acquainted. Happily for Aleksandrov, the police master turned out to be more than pleasant and offered rooms in his own apartment to the newcomer. Yet Aleksandrov, not wishing to burden anyone, rejected this invitation and instead rented himself a house on the very same street as the police master.
The only servant—a valet—of the captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov was the retired serviceman Stepan (whose last name no one can remember). Stepan served his master as a nanny serves a young child. He was a jack of all trades: he was a yard-keeper and a chef, could act as an experienced valet when required, and was an excellent messenger. In short, depending on the circumstances, he was able to take on any kind of job in the household of his undemanding master. This might well explain why Aleksandrov loved his Stepan so much!
In the winter and in cold weather, the captain-lieutenant wore a burka [a sheepskin overcoat worn by the cavalry]; in the summer, a razletaika [a grey officer’s overcoat without sleeves] and he was always dressed in an officer’s coat with no epaulets, with the cross of St. George in the buttonhole.
Due to his easy disposition and gentle character, Aleksandrov soon acclimatised to his new place of residence. His once-distant relationship with police master Erlich quickly evolved into one of closeness and friendship, so that after only a week captain-lieutenant had already become almost a daily visitor to Erlich’s welcoming home.
The residents of Elabuga were soon convinced that the valiant captain-lieutenant possessed a kind and sympathetic heart. They thus concluded that it would be foolish not to take advantage of the captain-lieutenant’s emerging friendship with Erlich for their own benefit. And so the residents of Elabuga suddenly brought all their squabbles and slanders, arguments, petitions, and petty problems to Aleksandrov, who did not anticipate receiving such a swarm of requests.
The onslaught was immediate…Everybody—whether offended or not, whether in the right or in the wrong—made their way to the captain-lieutenant hoping he would provide them with some defence and support for their demands. Before he knew it, Aleksandrov was flooded with such requests. Not having the strength to refuse anyone, he unwittingly became an advocate for nearly every resident, not only of Elabuga itself, but also of the surrounding villages.
At first, the police master laughed heartily at the captain-lieutenant’s mediation, but once he realised that the number of ‘petitioners’ was multiplying, that they were increasingly impudent, and recognising, finally, that Aleksandrov was the victim of their unscrupulous exploitation, the kindly old Erlich began to evade these petitions, thinking this would cool down the petitioners’ zeal somewhat. Yet this did little to rectify the situation, and the captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov continued to steadfastly listen to the numerous requests of his clients and report them ‘to the kindest Eduard Osipovich’.
The old police master often sat at his desk to work. At such times, it must be noted, Erlich could not tolerate any sort of distraction from or interruption to his work…but suddenly Stepan would appear with a note from his master.
The old man would grimace. ‘Well, and so it is – yet another request!’ he would grumble, reading the note he had just received.
‘Fine; tell him, the request will be granted!’ he would say, turning to the captain-lieutenant’s valet.
Stepan would answer the police master’s usual remarks always in the same manner:
‘Yes, your honour!’ and then would quickly disappear from the room in a way that was nearly incomprehensible given his huge height.
The notes sent by the captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov were nearly always of the same content and included request after request on behalf of his ‘clients’. As an example, I offer a few of these notes.
Eduard Osipovich! Be merciful to my protégé, permit him and his brother to participate in your building works, or, at the very least, give them some small jobs in service. They would like to take advantage of the autumnal season in order to do whatever they can to prepare for the coming spring. Your sincerely devoted servant, Aleksandrov.
This little lady here is crying and pleading that someone has planted a stolen harness on her husband. Be merciful to her, Eduard Osipovich. Your servant, Aleksandrov.
Eduard Osipovich! Would you do a favour for this soldier’s wife and give her some sort of lodging? She is asking for a ‘profitable’ one, and by God, I do not understand what she means, but I only request that, if possible, you give her such lodging. Dеvоué Аlехаndrоff.
Later, the residents of Elabuga learned of another of the captain-lieutenant’s weaknesses: his love for… animals—particularly cats and dogs.
This discovery, which was particularly important for the street boys and old maids, caused a real stir. At first, many people refused to believe it, but when eyewitnesses confirmed that the captain-lieutenant did indeed have an entire menagerie of animals, these sceptics were eventually silenced and forced to admit that nature is too strong to fight; at 40-50 years old, all maidens inevitably become old maids…
Due to the aforementioned circumstances, captain-lieutenant’s Aleksandrov’s apartment quickly turned into a veritable canine and feline shelter. Despite the unpleasant smell this produced throughout the house and despite Stepan’s antipathy toward these poor, defenceless animals, the captain-lieutenant did not rethink his attitude to these creatures… Full credit for this must be given to those zealous young residents of Elabuga. Thanks to the ‘undertakings’ of the street boys, the number of residents in captain-lieutenant’s ‘harem’ grew and grew. Yet this situation did not at all trouble Aleksandrov, who only smiled at the snide comments made by his acquaintances. Stepan was dreadfully unhappy with his master’s strange inclinations and tried with all his might to counteract them. In response to his master’s remarks that ‘blessed is he who has mercy on cattle’, Stepan remained silent, and only on his way out would grumble (but in such a way that the master could not help but overhear), ‘blessed…unless these “cattle” give them no peace…’. Having reached such an opinion, Stepan would report to his master quite frequently that such-and-such dog was not there anymore, or that such-and-such cat had gone missing. ‘Wherever could have they gone?’ the captain-lieutenant would ask him, bewildered.
Unperturbed, the loyal servant would reply without blinking an eye, ‘I know not, your honour.’
A party of street boys counteracted Stepan’s efforts, generously supplying Aleksandrov with small animals. These rascals tormented the captain-lieutenant’s loyal servant until he would turn to drink from sheer despair. The fact is that these boys created a kind of a profitable business from the captain-lieutenant’s weakness for small animals. Just as soon as they learned of the appearance of a new family of cats or dogs, the little ‘businessmen’ would quickly appear to take these defenceless creatures (the owners, of course, were always glad to decrease their number of household animals) and would then drag them past the captain-lieutenant’s window when Aleksandrov’s faithful squire was not at home. In front of the window the smallest animal would begin to squeak and squeal mercilessly, as the boys pinched the animal to force it to sing these heart-breaking, soul-shattering songs.
‘What are you good-for-nothings doing here?’ The captain-lieutenant would shout from the window.
‘Well, your honour,’ even these street urchins dared not call Durova otherwise, ‘we would like to drown this little kitten in the river.’
‘My goodness, you vile boys,’ the fuming captain-lieutenant would retort, ‘bring it here.’
Then the small four-legged creature would go straight into the hands of Aleksandrov, and into the hands of the young ‘executioners’ would be deposited a small silver coin.
And so, the life of captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov continued modestly and quietly in the town of Elabuga.
In his spare time during the evenings, the police master received a group of his close friends; among their number was, of course, captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov. The police master always heartily welcomed the captain-lieutenant and was glad to spend his free time with him. Yet, despite such a cordial relationship, the captain-lieutenant often quarrelled with the police master, and did so quite earnestly. What exactly was the cause of such disagreements between them? The cause was very simple.
The police master, regardless of his innate goodness and desire to show kindness to captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov, often lost his temper. As he was receiving notes from Aleksandrov nearly every single day with requests on behalf of his petitioners, the good-hearted old man got no peace. At such moments, the police master resorted to a cruel method. This method always afforded him around three weeks free from the pleasures of looking into various slanders and squabbles… In essence, the aforementioned method was not so cruel. The police master ordinarily met the captain-lieutenant with the words, ‘And, hello, dear Aleksandr Andreevich!… Please, come on in…’; but sometimes, at precisely the same occasion he would say instead, ‘Ah, my esteemed Nadezhda Andreevna, how do you do?’ Then, as if remembering something, he would add, ‘Ah, please excuse me; I mistook you for a woman of my acquaintance…’
Following such a greeting, the captain-lieutenant’s face would turn bright red and then deathly pale. A minute later the ‘captain-lieutenant’ would stand up and leave the room.
Two or three weeks later, the police master and captain-lieutenant would make peace and resume their friendship until the phrase, ‘And, hello, Nadezhda Andreevna!…’ would be used again.
And so the captain-lieutenant passed his time in the town of Elabuga. He maintained this lifestyle until his death. So much did the ‘captain-lieutenant’ experience, so much did he see in his lifetime: 1807, 1812, then the war for the liberation of the nations … All of this passed before the eyes of this already-declining hero like a dream. He lived through the great day of 19 February 1861 [abolition of serfdom in the Russian Empire]; he met with new kinds of people, saw the foundation of new regimes, new institutions… But he did not have long to observe the dawn of this new life; in 1863, the poor ‘captain-lieutenant’ was no more… With his death the ‘animal shelter’ shut down and his devoted servant Stepan disappeared without a trace… This remarkable person left only a memory of himself behind.
Before the end of her life, Nadezhda Andreevna Durova requested that she be buried under the name Aleksandr, but the priest did not find it possible to fulfil this dying wish. And so, the name of captain-lieutenant Aleksandr Andreevich Aleksandrov disappeared with him who bore it honestly and sacredly until the last moments of his life!
Durova died, as I have said, in the year 1863 at the age of 74, and was buried in the town cemetery (see photographs) under a modest monument, carved of a single stone and having the appearance of a four-pointed cross.
In 1888, while visiting his father’s hometown, Lieutenant I. E., the son of police master Erlich, attended Durova’s grave, but the monument was nowhere to be found; the very site of the grave had been washed away by rain and was overgrown by dense thistles and grass. The gravestone had sunk into the ground but was later lifted out and replaced in its original position, following the orders of one Mr. Ushkov.
I once visited the home of my friend, the aforementioned Lieutenant Erlich, and together we were discussing the remarkable people who lived at the end of the past century and the beginning of the new one. It was then that Erlich happened to tell me of his father’s acquaintance with N.A. Durova and about her life in the town of Elabuga, sharing, essentially, the facts that I have presented above. Rummaging in his desk drawer, Erlich found a few of Durova’s authentic notes, her photograph, a photograph of the town cemetery, and a copy of her service record. All of this he left completely at my disposal. Lieutenant Erlich’s story was complemented by the notes of his father’s widow, who was also personally acquainted with Durova. As for the second picture, the one of the cemetery, I must say that this photograph belonged to Captain G.A.E., who suggested that it be printed in this essay, if found to be necessary. The outcome of our conversation was the appearance in print of this, our brief essay.
F. F. Lashmanov
Appendix
Service record, captain-lieutenant Aleksandrov (Nadezhda Andreevna Durova)
By the order of his Majesty, Emperor Aleksandr Pavlovich, the Ruler of All of Russia, etc, etc, etc.
Issued by the Inspectorate Department of the General Staff of his Imperial Majesty to shtabs-rotmistr [captain-lieutenant] Aleksander Aleksandrov, retired from army service at the age of 24, coming from a noble Russian family, with his father in possession of five male peasant souls, signed for service in the Mariupol’ Hussar regiment in the rank of cornet [junior officer] on 31 December 1807, transferred to Lithuanian Uhlan regiment on 1 April 1811. Awarded the rank of poruchik [lieutenant] 29 August 1812. Took part in campaigns: 1807 in Prussia against the French forces; in battles: near the village of Guttstadt, pursuing the enemy towards the river Passarge and in the battle of Gelsberg, for remarkable service in which he was awarded a military order; in 1812 against the same army in Russia, in various battles: 27 June in the village of Mir, 2 July in the village of Romanov, 16 and 17 July by the village of Dashkova, 4 and 5 August in the city of Smolensk, 15 August in the village of Lushki, 20 August by the city of Ezhatsk Pristan’, 20 August by the monastery of Kolotsk, 24 August in the village of Borodino, where he received a contusion of the leg from a cannon ball and was sent away to recuperate; in 1813 he returned to service in a reserve detachment, with which he served in the Duchy of Warsaw during the blockade of the Modlin Fortress, from 10 August to 20 October, and during the blockade of the cities of Hamburg and Harburg. He was on leave from 9 to 15 March 1812 and returned to service at the required time. He incurred no fines and a year ago, in 1816, retired from service with the rank of shatbs-rotmistr on the grounds of ill health. As proof, this order of his Imperial Majesty was issued in St Petersburg. 24 April 1817. True copy signed deputy-director general-major (surname illegible). Head of Department, civil servant of the fifth rank Kiselev. Seal of the authentic document of the Imperial Department of General Staff of his Imperial Majesty’s Fifth Department.
February 1889, Nizhnii Novgorod. Report. by F.F. Lashmanov.
Translated by Charlotte Farrar, with Lev Nikulin, Cheryl Morgan, Esther Jones Russel, and Margarita Vaysman (eds.)
Source: ‘Nadezhda Andreevna Durova. Materialy k ee biografii. Report. by F.F. Lashmanov’, Russkaia starina, 1890 (67/9), 657-665.
The first drafts of the English translations were produced by two undergraduate students of Russian at the University of St Andrews, Charlotte Farrar and Charlotte Thomas. These drafts were then reviewed and workshopped by the project’s two trans sensitivity readers: Cheryl Morgan in the UK and Lev Nikulin in the US. Finally, the translations were edited by Connor Doak, scholar of Russian queer culture, and Esther Jones Russel, copyeditor with specialisation in Russian, in relation to Vaysman’s peer-reviewed article on Aleksandrov published in Avtobiografiia. Journal on Life-Writing and the Representation of the Self in Russian Culture in 2022.
Margarita Vaysman is Associate Professor of Nineteenth-Century Russophone Literature, Thought and Culture and Fellow in Russian at New College, University of Oxford. Her first monograph Self-Conscious Realism: Metafiction and the Nineteenth-Century Russian Novel was published in 2021 and her co-edited volume The Oxford Handbook of Global Realisms came out in 2024. Vaysman’s current project is a monograph, provisionally titled A Brave Life: Queer and Transgender Erasure in Russian Culture. This investigation spans the period from the early days of the Russian Empire to present day Russia, where homo- and transphobic state rhetoric co-exists with a vibrant drag culture and successful activist interventions.
Cheryl Morgan is a writer and publisher based in South Wales. She has written papers and delivered talks on many aspects of trans history and trans characters in literature, including for HistFest, and is a regular speaker at LGBT History Month events. She can be found on BlueSky and Mastodon.
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