This extraordinary story of Sally-Tom — a Black trans woman who secured legal gender recognition in Georgia in the 1860s — is just one of the many forgotten narratives uncovered in Before Gender: Lost Stories from Trans History, 1850–1950 by Eli Erlick. In this revelatory new book, Erlick peels back the layers of buried queer history to expose the lives of trans people who dared to exist long before the language or legal structures we know today. Sally-Tom’s life, in particular, challenges the assumption that trans identity is a modern invention, reminding us that trans people have always been here — surviving, resisting, and redefining the rules.
If you think trans rights are a 21st-century battle, meet Sally-Tom: a Black trans woman who had her gender legally affirmed by the U.S. government during Reconstruction — decades before most Americans even had birth certificates.
Sally-Tom was born around 1839 in Georgia, enslaved by the Kendrick family, and like many newly freed people, struck out for her freedom after the Civil War. But what makes her story astonishing isn’t just her resilience — it’s the fact that sometime around 1869, the Freedmen’s Bureau formally recognized her right to live as a woman. Let’s be clear: in 1869 Georgia, a government agent told a trans Black woman she could legally be a woman. Wrap your brain around that.
Gender Recognition Before It Was a Hashtag
In an era when enslaved people were only beginning to taste freedom, and when white society barely considered Black people human — much less people with agency — Sally-Tom was out here living her truth. And when she was summoned to the bureau as a witness in a legal case, she became the case. An officer reportedly grilled her about her “life and habits” before deciding she could “either be a man or woman as [she] preferred, but [she] had to be of one sex only as far as wearing apparel was concerned.” It’s shady, sure — but also groundbreaking. She chose womanhood. Full stop.
In a time when gender-nonconformity was criminalized (especially for white folks), Sally’s race likely made the bureau’s decision one of quiet pragmatism. But for her, it was life-changing. She began wearing dresses, working as a cook and gardener, and living quietly as a woman in Georgia — even if her “neighbors didn’t know” until her death in 1908.
A Quiet Icon
Sally-Tom avoided the press during her lifetime — probably for her own safety. She lived through a peak era of lynchings, violent racism, and anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment, long before that acronym even existed. She didn’t leave us memoirs or manifestos. But neighbors described her as gentle, feminine, and “different.” Her straw hat became her trademark, her silence her protection.
When she passed, newspapers sensationalized her, calling her a “hermaphrodite” — a term loaded with violence and ignorance. But even then, reporters expressed awe at her confidence. She never backed down. And for 20 years, she lived as herself in a world that told her not to.
Why It Matters to the LGBTQ+ Community
Sally-Tom’s legacy isn’t just a historical footnote. She challenges the idea that being trans is “new,” or “modern,” or somehow invented. Her story also speaks to the layered struggles of Black trans women — navigating race, gender, class, and power, often with zero protection and little recognition.
Today, trans people — especially Black trans women — still fight to exist safely, visibly, and legally. Sally-Tom did it in a white-dominated, post-slavery, Reconstruction-era South. That deserves not just remembrance, but reverence.
So let’s say her name. Not as a punchline, not as a curiosity — but as a pioneer. Sally-Tom was here. And she was her.