Roberta Cowell: An Early Influence Remembered

Years ago as part of a professional development exercise the members of my group were each asked to write down the titles of the three books that most influenced our younger lives. I can’t exactly remember what I wrote but it was probably something like The Guns of August, Renegade in Power and the Bible. One is about international political folly another about Canadian political folly and the other I just would have thought it something to write down.

As I knew our lists would probably be discussed by the group I would not have written down the book that seems to have most shaped my early years. It was an obscure autobiography that I came across in unusual circumstances and had almost completely since forgotten. A recent article on TGForum and the Internet links I followed from it have now reminded me of the book that once was so important to me. It is another example of how the Internet puts information so easily at our fingertips when once it was available only by chance.

The TGForum article was a The Week in Transgenderism piece about Mia Marcy’s big win against the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) agency. TWIT pointed us to the Huffington Post article with the details. At the end of the Huffington article there were links to stories on twenty-one other influential figures in transgender issues. Of course Chaz Bono, Renee Richards, April Ashley and the like were listed. One of the figures was Roberta Cowell (Who? You ask.) I knew who so another link took me to an Australian site called Changing Aspects and, to my surprise, a reprint of the little-known book that so influenced my early life.

The summer I was thirteen years old I went to live and work on my grandparents’ farm. I loved life there as I got up early to do chores then had a lot of freedom to explore the woods on nice days and explore the big old house on rainy days. My grandmother would be off with her riding friends and I think my grandfather must have spent a lot of time visiting a mistress. I had time to myself. My favourite indoor exploration was to an old storage room where I could find and try on dresses, high heeled shoes and lingerie from by-gone eras. There was also my grandfather’s old military gear but that was left aside.

Robert Cowell

I also explored their library where I found tucked in amongst the works of Shakespeare, Churchill, Twain (Mark; not Shania) and others the book that was to influence my life — The Roberta Cowell Story. Born Robert Cowell in 1918, was raised as a male, served in WWII as a Spitfire pilot doing photo reconnaissance, a P.O.W, a race car driver before and after the war. About 1947 Cowell found himself experiencing some emotional problems and noticed some changes in his body. He was starting to display secondary sex characteristics that were more feminine than masculine. It was found that Cowell, born with male genitalia actually had the XX chromosome combination usual in females. To make a long story short a hormone regimen and eventual surgery helped Cowell become the first British male to female transgender, a year before Christine Jorgenson’s celebrated surgery in Denmark.

In her book Cowell describes in some detail her early years which I thought were somewhat similar to how mine were going. Her war service was very similar to my dad’s. I’m sure that was influential on my thought process. However it was the photos included in the book that greatly influenced me. Up until 1947 the photos showed a man going through his youth and twenties. He was not a very good looking man but he was a man. The next series of photos showed a young woman doing the things a young British woman would do in those days — visiting Paris, shopping, cooking and talking with a member of the clergy. She seemed very good looking. I was greatly affected and encouraged that someone who once was male could look convincing as a female. I thought there was hope for me yet. Perhaps, after all, I could take my secret passion to a full time life.

Roberta at the Louvre

When I found the book I was only thirteen and hadn’t gone through much of puberty so I thought maybe I’d be as lucky as she had been. Perhaps puberty wouldn’t come to me and I’d be found to have the same XX chromosome makeup. Once I’d read that book I spent most of my spare time that summer obsessing about becoming a girl. When I went to the local youth dances it was not to find a girlfriend but to study how the girls dressed and moved.

However, soon it was apparent Cowell’s fate was not to be mine. I think the farm meals must have been laced with testosterone as my height shot up and I started shaving every day. My voice would crackle at the least opportune times and almost every night my pyjama bottoms would be soiled by a creamy white liquid. When I returned home I left the Cowell book behind and it was eventually forgotten. The book did however leave an enduring message with me. The message was not so much about how one person with a chromosome abnormality went about having it corrected but how one once a male could look so natural as a female. It would be an art form worth pursuing.

Notwithstanding my feelings about being able to download a book without payment to the author, The Roberta Cowell Story in its entirety, including the photos, can be seen at ChangelingAspects.com.

I love the last few paragraphs. They remind me of my first steps out of the closet.

My hand is on the door-knob. I am trembling violently. Pull yourself together, girl. Yes, all right, then, have another look in that full-length mirror, if you think it will give you more confidence. In a few moments the dream of your life will be coming true. No jerkiness, hands flowing from the wrist, perfect poise. Just behave as though you were quite used to all this.

Out into the corridor, along to the head of the stairs –now for it. Waves of music. The dancing has already begun. If I tremble any more my knees will give way completely — no, of course they won’t. Do the thing you fear and fear will vanish. Now I’m walking down the wide sweep of the staircase, and my fear is vanishing. Everyone in the hall seems to be looking at me. What are they saying? If it’s nice I’m glad; if it’s nasty, well, perhaps it’s jealousy…. Anyway, what do I care?

Now I must speak to my host and hostess, and I must keep my voice low and soft. And now I’m dancing, and all the blood in my body has turned to music. The past is forgotten, the future doesn’t matter, and the glowingly happy present is even better than I had hoped.

I am myself.

How she got there: that is the story. Give it a read.

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Post script: There is very little information available about Cowell’s later life. She would be 95 this year. Wikipedia tells of a life with some business and financial success followed by failure. Cowell apparently distanced herself from the growing TG community by claiming that those who sought gender reassignment without being XX were not true transgendered. When I visited the British TG community in the 1980s I found no one who knew anything about my personal mentor from the 1950s.

That was sad but now thanks to TGForum, Huffington Post and the Changeling Aspects website I have reconnected to an important part of my personal history. Thank you all.

Tags: featured, History, Identity, Roberta Cowell, Transgender, Transition, Transsexual, transsexualism

Category: Transgender Body & Soul, Transgender History