![]() Either he burned himself or he had the plague.ĭespite sexist reimaginings and the rampant sexism of the age, medieval records list women as laborers in all trades, from cathedral builders to wool merchants. Her husband, meanwhile, cannot work because his hand is all pustule-ridden and gross. One of the most well known of these pictures shows a large nosed woman, the wife of the nearby blacksmith, forging a nail at the anvil. The pictures range from carpenters to midwives to smiths to naked baby Jesus sliding down a sunbeam. The Holkham Bible is full of illustrations of the working classes of 14th Century England. ![]() Many women became so enmeshed in their husband or father’s businesses as to inherit them or be able to take over the work. An able body in a business was an able body, regardless of sex. Whenever I bring the subject up, someone historically informed person says “but guilds wouldn’t have allowed women to be blacksmiths!” In fact, women and girls as far back as the 14th century have been granted entry through paternity, marriage or an apprenticeship. This man is two seconds away from a third degree burn.Ĭontrary to popular belief, women in Europe and North America have been documented as smiths of all kinds for at least the last 800 years. The image of blacksmiths has been so uniformly defined as male by video games and fantasy movies that we’ve lost sight of the historical reality of that profession.īeard, large muscles, terrible blacksmithing technique. They seem dumbfounded that a chipper little five foot five girl could swing a sledgehammer. ![]() Now, after transitioning, I get surprised looks whenever I tell people that I am a blacksmith. When I read about blacksmithing as a kid, it was by male authors writing for a male audience. Video games and books all featured bearded muscly men in forges. I didn’t pick up a hammer again for four years.Īll of the depictions of blacksmiths around me were male. In order to prove to others that I was “legitimately female,” I had to change much of who I was and what I did. I may be trans, but people didn’t believe me because of my craft. You’re a blacksmith!” My adherence to my passion as a gendered activity ended up negating the reality of my inner feelings. People would look surprised and say, “But…you can’t be a girl. Unfortunately, my passion for the craft became less of a blessing when I came out as transgender. That was fine by me whatever it took to not have people doubt my gender. Something about my identity as a blacksmith seemed to set me firmly amongst the ranks of the masculine. I had been girly for years, and here was a ready-made way for me to do something badass while being able to use it to hide myself in a gendered cloak.Īnd it worked! Even though I tended to squeak when happy, and skip from class to class, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that I was manly. I was assigned male at birth, but all through my childhood I had learned that if I acted like myself, then I would get called a faggot and kicked around the playground. I loved it, I really did, but behind my enthusiasm was another motive. I studied and practiced for years, working under a local reenactor, and selling forged wares to pay for the tools. It clicked seamlessly into the clockwork of my soul. I felt a connection to the medium that was almost primal. I had just seen a nearby blacksmith at work, and the roaring fire and the clanging of the hammer on steel had fascinated me. One balmy summer evening when I was 14, my parents came home to find me in front of a fire, bent over a hot piece of metal, beating it with hammer. ![]() The Autostraddle Encyclopedia of Lesbian Cinema.LGBTQ Television Guide: What To Watch Now.
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