My dear William,

I have hoped for some time now to have the opportunity to record my thoughts on our escape from Georgia to Philadelphia. Since arriving at the home of Mr. Barkley Ivens and his family, I have become quite taken with one of the daughters who has offered to teach me to read. I am not yet able to write you a letter myself, so I have asked of her to write what I should speak aloud.

There is one thing that has been on my mind since Richmond. I hope you remember the handsome old gentleman and his two daughters that we had met on the train? It is not my intention to speak poorly of either the gentleman or his daughters, but the entire experience was a bit disconcerting to me, and I have not been able to remove it from my thoughts.

Before that, I had become fairly accustomed to the doings and mannerisms of free white men—of course, for our survival, dear William—but it was very strange for me, in that train, to suddenly become the object of those ladies affections! In the guise of a free gentleman, I suppose I should have not been so surprised, as that is what is expected of gentlemen. And yet, my physical being is as woman, though the laws of this land may see me only as chattel, and thus in the train those ladies had unknowingly directed their affections toward another of their own!

I ask you, my dear William, what do you make of this? Though I myself knew that I had no affections for anyone but you, in the eyes of the people we encountered during our escape north, I, as a free white gentleman, was a potential suitor for their daughters. And what about us, our own affections for each other demanded concealment not only because I had to maintain the appearance of a white slaveholder (and you, my slave), but also because we appeared before the world as two men, free or not.

These are the thoughts that have been on my mind since coming to Philadelphia, my dear William, and I wanted to write them down before they disappeared into my forgotten memories. Rest assured, William, that no one shall lay eyes upon this letter save for the Ivens’ daughter, in whom I have placed great faith.

Your wife,
Ellen

Questions: Ellen’s experience proves that race, gender, and sexuality are often bound up in one another—in her own sociohistorical context, she can only pass as a man who is also assumed to be heterosexual. How then, does a consideration of sexuality/sexual identity complicate our understandings of racial identity? During her time, what we now consider a homosexual/gay/lesbian “identity” did not exist; therefore, sexual identities must be understood within their own temporal/spatial contexts, in much the same way as racial identities. However, if passing for white points to a “doing” of racial identity, what do we make of passing for “heterosexual” or “homosexual,” especially in a heterosexist context? Does it involve “doing” or “being”? How is racial oppression similar to heterosexist oppression, and how is it different? How does the context of oppression affect the ways in which people understand their own identities, especially those who experience multiple intersecting oppressions?