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How a small amount of pressure in the right place breaks the strongest link in the chain
Michael Waters' "A Forgotten Athlete, a Nazi Official, and the Origins of Sex Testing at the Olympics" obviously frames its subject within the historical and present shadows of fascism and transphobia and all the murderous nonsense of pseudo-scientific gender policing, but the fact remains that I never had heard of Zdeněk Koubek and I love knowing that he existed, especially since unlike any number of people who followed his gender trajectory in his era and region, his story did not stop short in World War II. You get used to waiting for the shadow to fall across certain kinds of lives and if Koubek did not have the Olympic career he was poised for after his explosive debut at the 1934 Women's World Games in London, he did have a life as a man, married, with jobs in and around the automotive industry and a connection to sports that lasted till he ordinarily died. I plan to check out the book his story is part of, even if it looks ultimately anger-making: the branching past constricted into the history we inherit, which so easily forgets even what it doesn't take pains to erase. It has reminded me, though, that I meant to look into the rediscovered novels of Claude McKay and the sexological life of Li Shiu Tong. Feel free to chime in; 'tis the season. If history isn't more complicated every time we look at it, we're doing the looking wrong.
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You're welcome. I'm glad people are writing them.