Collins approaches the ethical nuances of Cal’s intersex narrative in Middlesex, drawing comparisons with current debates in North Carolina concerning gender-normative bathroom use and trans rights, in order to advocate for more ethical practices of relation and responsibility outside of mere knowledge creation and policy

Collins, Laura J.

English

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The Goose
Volume 17 | No. 1 Article 60
9-22-2018
Beyond the Biography of a Gene
Laura J. Collins
University of Colorado, Colorado Springs
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Recommended Citation / Citation recommandée
Collins, Laura J.. "Beyond the Biography of a Gene." The Goose, vol. 17 , no. 1 , article 60, 2018,
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60.
 LAURA J. COLLINS 
 
Beyond the Biography of a Gene 
 
Cal Stephanides, the intersex protagonist of Middlesex, writes that although he is a member of 
the Intersex Society of North America, he “happen[s] not to be a political person” (Eugenides 
106). Of course, Cal, as narrator, performs a political act in relating his story. The narration itself 
is an attempt to reveal his secret and account for his history. Nonetheless, Cal seems to draw a 
distinction between this act of self-narration and what he appears to envision as more “official” 
political activity: attending rallies and actively participating in groups (106). Cal seems to offer 
the qualification that he “happens not to be a political person” as an apology, almost as if he 
assumes that readers will insist that he should be involved in political advocacy. And perhaps 
given his professed and apparent shame and reclusiveness, we might think it would be better if 
Cal were “out” and advocating on behalf of other intersex people.  
 
But I think Cal’s narrative also suggests one of the reasons he is not engaged in this work. He 
relates: “hermaphrodites are people like everybody else” (106). And though Cal presents his 
narrative as the story of how he was born twice—once as a baby girl and again as a teenage 
boy—it is also a wide-ranging family history that takes on the character of myth. In so doing, 
this mythology accounts for Cal’s singular and complicated personhood including, but reaching 
far beyond, the fact of his intersex condition. So, though Cal’s narrative includes a genetic 
explanation for his condition (see Alaimo, Hsu, and Breu in this special cluster), the more than 
five hundred pages of family lore constitute far more than the explanation of a genetic 
mutation. So, though this history does function as an explanation for Cal’s intersex condition, it 
also, perhaps paradoxically, functions as Cal’s refusal to be reduced to his intersex identity or 
experience and his insistence on his unique and irreducible personhood.  
 
The first two paragraphs of the novel juxtapose Cal’s imposed identity as an intersex case study 
with his claimed identity as a singular individual, not unlike anybody else. In the opening 
paragraph Cal explains that readers may have “come across him” in Dr. Peter Luce’s article on 
5-Alpha-Reductase or in chapter sixteen of the “sadly outdated Genetics and Heredity” (3). He 
claims his anonymous celebrity—“[t]hat’s me on page 578 . . . with a black box covering my 
eyes” (3)—suggesting his desire to be known as more than a faceless (mostly forgotten) 
medical fascination and perhaps laying claim to his part in developing medical knowledge. In 
the next paragraph, however, Cal undercuts this identity as medical marvel by introducing 
himself through a list of mundane personal details. He tells us he’s a “former field hockey 
goalie, long-standing member of the Save-the-Manatee Foundation, rare attendant of the 
Greek Orthodox liturgy, and . . . an employee of the U.S. State Department” (3)—a somewhat 
distinctive, though not particularly interesting, inventory of attributes. 
 
1
Collins: Beyond the Biography of a Gene
Published by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2018
 The novel follows in this pattern, with Cal both embracing and resisting an identity as intersex 
case study. Cal traces the journey of his 5-Alpha-Reductase gene from Smyrna to its “discovery” 
in Dr. Luce’s clinic (see Alaimo, Breu, Hsu, and Mazzolini in this special cluster), commenting 
along the way about his status as object of medical (and cultural) fascination. But he also tells 
us about his father’s hot dog business, his braces, and his parents’ courtship via clarinet. In a 
way, all these details are connected to the epic story of the gene, but they are also part of Cal’s 
attempt to account for himself outside of and apart from the descriptions of medical journal 
articles (or perhaps of political rallies). As many in this special cluster observe, this account is 
sometimes frustrating and deterministic. Nonetheless, it is Cal’s attempt to narrate his own 
story and position himself within it. Accordingly, I read Cal’s quip that “hermaphrodites are 
people like everybody else” and his self-avowed apoliticism as a refusal to be reduced to gender 
or genes. In its way, Cal’s narrative beckons us to recognize and respond to him in his 
singularity, outside of medicine or politics: his is an ethical call rather than a political one.  
 
I want to think briefly about this ethical call with regard to transgender advocacy in the United 
States, particularly around the so-called “bathroom bill” in the state of North Carolina. The 
“bathroom bill,” or North Carolina House Bill Two: The Public Facilities Privacy & Security Act, 
was a reaction to a Charlotte, North Carolina ordinance that, among other things, allowed 
people to use bathrooms that comported with their gender identities. The bathroom bill 
invalidated that ordinance and required government facilities to designate bathroom use by 
birth certificate sex.  
 
What’s particularly interesting (and relevant here) is that in the North Carolina General 
Assembly debates over the bill, both supporters and opponents relied on themes of 
discrimination, inclusivity, and progressive politics, resulting in a hyper-politicization of 
transgender identities. In these debates, transgender bathroom access was figured as part of a 
progressive (or radical) political agenda rather than a matter of necessity. For example, in the 
floor debates, one senator argued that in passing the ordinance, Charlotte had “bowed to the 
altar of radical political correctness” (North Carolina). Supporters of the bathroom bill 
positioned their stance less in opposition to transgender people than to “radical” political 
encroachments. Relatedly, opponents figured the bill as an affront to democratic ideals, arguing 
that the bill “fl[ew] in the face of inclusiveness” and urging others to join the progressive 
“fight.”  
 
Because these debates were saturated with the language of discrimination and either radical or 
progressive politics (depending on the political affiliation of the speaker), there was little 
discussion of transgender people themselves. There was little recognition that transgender 
people are seeking to navigate sex and that this task is difficult in a society that continues to 
insist and rely upon discriminating on the basis of sex. This rhetorical framing of transgender 
bathroom access as radical (including progressive insistence that this is the next great civil 
rights battle) also depicts transgender people as warriors on the front lines of enlightened, 
liberal politics. While some transgender people might characterize themselves this way, others 
may be less interested in directly engaging the politics of sex (even if they must confront the 
politics of sex daily). And, as Middlesex’s Cal reminds us, it seems to me that our politics must 
2
The Goose, Vol. 17, No. 1 [2018], Art. 60
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60
 remain attuned to this hesitancy. We must remember that the problem of (or solution to) sex 
does not rest with transgender and intersex people: it rests with all of us. So, while the 
struggles of transgender people (and of intersex Cal) might highlight the problem of sex, it is for 
all of us to continually invent solutions and to resist the urge to enact our gender politics 
through others.  
 
It is for this reason that I’ve focused on Cal’s narrative as a personal account instead of on the 
novel’s questionable gender politics or determinism. I don’t disagree that the novel can be 
frustrating, but I think that the frustrating confines of this novel can be read as an allegory for 
the frustrating (though not impenetrable) bounds of our socio-political circumstances. Beyond 
that, as others in this special cluster point out (see Alaimo, Anderson, Breu, Sandilands, 
Seymour, and Singh), the novel’s determinism is not so absolute. There are ways to read its 
setting, symbols, and surroundings as gesturing toward fluidity, even if Cal (and perhaps 
Eugenides) seems to mostly reject that fluidity. The novel reminds us, then, that with regard to 
gender politics there is possibility all around us, but there is also limitation, and within all this 
possibility and limitation we must each make a life for ourselves. And the ultimate goal of our 
gender politics must be rendering that life-making easier and more meaningful for everybody.  
 
In this light, I want to think about Cal’s narrative, overdetermined though it may be, as a 
gesture toward legibility and explanation. I want to use Cal to think about how an individual is 
always more than the gender politics he appears to represent, and about how each of us tries 
to make sense of our story and our identity, amidst confounding (often frustrating) socio-
political circumstances. With its many mythical elements, the epic tale of Cal’s life and family 
history resists both complete knowledge and, also, complete representation of some presumed 
universal intersex experience. Fictional Cal reminds us that our politics must always remain 
attuned to the ethical: to the situational, singular, particular elements of meaning, 
relationships, and behaviours. And the ethical is never a matter of pure knowledge or proper 
policy: it’s what we do with and to each other in the absence of either.  
  
3
Collins: Beyond the Biography of a Gene
Published by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2018
 Works Cited 
 
Eugenides, Jeffrey. Middlesex. Picador, 2007. 
 
North Carolina Senate. “Floor Debate, 2015-2016 Legislature, Second Extra Session.” 23 March 
2016. (Senate audio recording). 
 
 
LAURA J. COLLINS is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Colorado, Colorado 
Springs, where she is working on a monograph—Fragile Certainties: Rhetoric, Ethics and 
Transgender Antidiscrimination Law—that investigates the world-building potential of 
transgender antidiscrimination law.  
4
The Goose, Vol. 17, No. 1 [2018], Art. 60
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60


Beyond the Biography of a Gene

Wilfrid Laurier University

The GooseVolume 17 | No. 1 Article 609-22-2018Beyond the Biography of a GeneLaura J. CollinsUniversity of Colorado, Colorado SpringsPart of the Critical and Cultural Studies Commons, Literature in English, North AmericaCommons, Nature and Society Relations Commons, and the Place and Environment CommonsFollow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres:https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegooseThis article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by anauthorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrantede la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactezscholarscommons@wlu.ca.Recommended Citation / Citation recommandéeCollins, Laura J.. "Beyond the Biography of a Gene." The Goose, vol. 17 , no. 1 , article 60, 2018,https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60. LAURA J. COLLINS  Beyond the Biography of a Gene  Cal Stephanides, the intersex protagonist of Middlesex, writes that although he is a member of the Intersex Society of North America, he “happen[s] not to be a political person” (Eugenides 106). Of course, Cal, as narrator, performs a political act in relating his story. The narration itself is an attempt to reveal his secret and account for his history. Nonetheless, Cal seems to draw a distinction between this act of self-narration and what he appears to envision as more “official” political activity: attending rallies and actively participating in groups (106). Cal seems to offer the qualification that he “happens not to be a political person” as an apology, almost as if he assumes that readers will insist that he should be involved in political advocacy. And perhaps given his professed and apparent shame and reclusiveness, we might think it would be better if Cal were “out” and advocating on behalf of other intersex people.   But I think Cal’s narrative also suggests one of the reasons he is not engaged in this work. He relates: “hermaphrodites are people like everybody else” (106). And though Cal presents his narrative as the story of how he was born twice—once as a baby girl and again as a teenage boy—it is also a wide-ranging family history that takes on the character of myth. In so doing, this mythology accounts for Cal’s singular and complicated personhood including, but reaching far beyond, the fact of his intersex condition. So, though Cal’s narrative includes a genetic explanation for his condition (see Alaimo, Hsu, and Breu in this special cluster), the more than five hundred pages of family lore constitute far more than the explanation of a genetic mutation. So, though this history does function as an explanation for Cal’s intersex condition, it also, perhaps paradoxically, functions as Cal’s refusal to be reduced to his intersex identity or experience and his insistence on his unique and irreducible personhood.   The first two paragraphs of the novel juxtapose Cal’s imposed identity as an intersex case study with his claimed identity as a singular individual, not unlike anybody else. In the opening paragraph Cal explains that readers may have “come across him” in Dr. Peter Luce’s article on 5-Alpha-Reductase or in chapter sixteen of the “sadly outdated Genetics and Heredity” (3). He claims his anonymous celebrity—“[t]hat’s me on page 578 . . . with a black box covering my eyes” (3)—suggesting his desire to be known as more than a faceless (mostly forgotten) medical fascination and perhaps laying claim to his part in developing medical knowledge. In the next paragraph, however, Cal undercuts this identity as medical marvel by introducing himself through a list of mundane personal details. He tells us he’s a “former field hockey goalie, long-standing member of the Save-the-Manatee Foundation, rare attendant of the Greek Orthodox liturgy, and . . . an employee of the U.S. State Department” (3)—a somewhat distinctive, though not particularly interesting, inventory of attributes.  1Collins: Beyond the Biography of a GenePublished by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2018 The novel follows in this pattern, with Cal both embracing and resisting an identity as intersex case study. Cal traces the journey of his 5-Alpha-Reductase gene from Smyrna to its “discovery” in Dr. Luce’s clinic (see Alaimo, Breu, Hsu, and Mazzolini in this special cluster), commenting along the way about his status as object of medical (and cultural) fascination. But he also tells us about his father’s hot dog business, his braces, and his parents’ courtship via clarinet. In a way, all these details are connected to the epic story of the gene, but they are also part of Cal’s attempt to account for himself outside of and apart from the descriptions of medical journal articles (or perhaps of political rallies). As many in this special cluster observe, this account is sometimes frustrating and deterministic. Nonetheless, it is Cal’s attempt to narrate his own story and position himself within it. Accordingly, I read Cal’s quip that “hermaphrodites are people like everybody else” and his self-avowed apoliticism as a refusal to be reduced to gender or genes. In its way, Cal’s narrative beckons us to recognize and respond to him in his singularity, outside of medicine or politics: his is an ethical call rather than a political one.   I want to think briefly about this ethical call with regard to transgender advocacy in the United States, particularly around the so-called “bathroom bill” in the state of North Carolina. The “bathroom bill,” or North Carolina House Bill Two: The Public Facilities Privacy & Security Act, was a reaction to a Charlotte, North Carolina ordinance that, among other things, allowed people to use bathrooms that comported with their gender identities. The bathroom bill invalidated that ordinance and required government facilities to designate bathroom use by birth certificate sex.   What’s particularly interesting (and relevant here) is that in the North Carolina General Assembly debates over the bill, both supporters and opponents relied on themes of discrimination, inclusivity, and progressive politics, resulting in a hyper-politicization of transgender identities. In these debates, transgender bathroom access was figured as part of a progressive (or radical) political agenda rather than a matter of necessity. For example, in the floor debates, one senator argued that in passing the ordinance, Charlotte had “bowed to the altar of radical political correctness” (North Carolina). Supporters of the bathroom bill positioned their stance less in opposition to transgender people than to “radical” political encroachments. Relatedly, opponents figured the bill as an affront to democratic ideals, arguing that the bill “fl[ew] in the face of inclusiveness” and urging others to join the progressive “fight.”   Because these debates were saturated with the language of discrimination and either radical or progressive politics (depending on the political affiliation of the speaker), there was little discussion of transgender people themselves. There was little recognition that transgender people are seeking to navigate sex and that this task is difficult in a society that continues to insist and rely upon discriminating on the basis of sex. This rhetorical framing of transgender bathroom access as radical (including progressive insistence that this is the next great civil rights battle) also depicts transgender people as warriors on the front lines of enlightened, liberal politics. While some transgender people might characterize themselves this way, others may be less interested in directly engaging the politics of sex (even if they must confront the politics of sex daily). And, as Middlesex’s Cal reminds us, it seems to me that our politics must 2The Goose, Vol. 17, No. 1 [2018], Art. 60https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60 remain attuned to this hesitancy. We must remember that the problem of (or solution to) sex does not rest with transgender and intersex people: it rests with all of us. So, while the struggles of transgender people (and of intersex Cal) might highlight the problem of sex, it is for all of us to continually invent solutions and to resist the urge to enact our gender politics through others.   It is for this reason that I’ve focused on Cal’s narrative as a personal account instead of on the novel’s questionable gender politics or determinism. I don’t disagree that the novel can be frustrating, but I think that the frustrating confines of this novel can be read as an allegory for the frustrating (though not impenetrable) bounds of our socio-political circumstances. Beyond that, as others in this special cluster point out (see Alaimo, Anderson, Breu, Sandilands, Seymour, and Singh), the novel’s determinism is not so absolute. There are ways to read its setting, symbols, and surroundings as gesturing toward fluidity, even if Cal (and perhaps Eugenides) seems to mostly reject that fluidity. The novel reminds us, then, that with regard to gender politics there is possibility all around us, but there is also limitation, and within all this possibility and limitation we must each make a life for ourselves. And the ultimate goal of our gender politics must be rendering that life-making easier and more meaningful for everybody.   In this light, I want to think about Cal’s narrative, overdetermined though it may be, as a gesture toward legibility and explanation. I want to use Cal to think about how an individual is always more than the gender politics he appears to represent, and about how each of us tries to make sense of our story and our identity, amidst confounding (often frustrating) socio-political circumstances. With its many mythical elements, the epic tale of Cal’s life and family history resists both complete knowledge and, also, complete representation of some presumed universal intersex experience. Fictional Cal reminds us that our politics must always remain attuned to the ethical: to the situational, singular, particular elements of meaning, relationships, and behaviours. And the ethical is never a matter of pure knowledge or proper policy: it’s what we do with and to each other in the absence of either.    3Collins: Beyond the Biography of a GenePublished by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2018 Works Cited  Eugenides, Jeffrey. Middlesex. Picador, 2007.  North Carolina Senate. “Floor Debate, 2015-2016 Legislature, Second Extra Session.” 23 March 2016. (Senate audio recording).   LAURA J. COLLINS is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs, where she is working on a monograph—Fragile Certainties: Rhetoric, Ethics and Transgender Antidiscrimination Law—that investigates the world-building potential of transgender antidiscrimination law.  4The Goose, Vol. 17, No. 1 [2018], Art. 60https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol17/iss1/60

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