Kate Bornstein - Spolni izobčenci: o moških, ženskah in nas ostalih

1999, Interview, Kate Bornstein, Slovenian, USA,

Original title: "Spolni izobčenci: o moških, ženskah in nas ostalih." It is the Slovenian language edition of "Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us" by Kate Bornstein.

In Spolni izobčenci: o moških, ženskah in nas ostalih, the Slovenian edition of Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us, readers encounter a mind-bending, deeply personal, and radically compassionate journey through gender, identity, and survival. Kate Bornstein, with the help of translator Suzana Tratnik, breaks every rule of conventional memoir, theory, and narrative form. The book’s title, translated as Gender Outlaws: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us, delivers exactly what it promises: a bold, irreverent, but tender invitation to question what we think we know about being male or female, and to make space for everything else.

 

Originally published in 1994, Gender Outlaw, and now Spolni izobčenci, is part memoir, part performance script, part gender theory, and part revolutionary call to action. Bornstein's language dances between the humorous and the heartbreaking, the intellectual and the visceral, the structured and the anarchic. Their story begins with an upbringing in a conservative Jewish family in New Jersey and eventually leads to a radical break from the Church of Scientology and a gender transition that defied both medical and cultural expectations of the late 20th century. Bornstein, who uses both she/her and they/them pronouns, is not content to merely recount their transition from male to female. They dissect it. They question it. And most importantly, they expose the insufficiency of the gender binary to contain their lived experience.

 

As they said in an interview with The Heroines in 2017, “I never really believed I was a woman trapped in a man's body. That never felt right to me.” It’s this refusal to simplify or sanitize that gives Spolni izobčenci its power. Bornstein is brutally honest about the discomfort of inhabiting a body that doesn’t neatly match societal norms, and about the limited options the medical establishment offered at the time. This Slovenian edition arrives into a culture that, like many others, is still grappling with rigid ideas about gender and sexuality. Tratnik’s translation opens a vital window for Slovenian readers into a legacy of trans resistance, queer survival, and intellectual mischief. The inclusion of 26 black-and-white illustrations adds a raw intimacy, sometimes humorous, sometimes jarring, much like Bornstein’s writing itself.

Reading Spolni izobčenci feels like sitting in on a gender theory class taught by someone who is equal parts stand-up comic, wounded healer, and seasoned street performer. In fact, Bornstein is all those things. With a background in theater and performance, they have long used art to explore identity, paradox, and survival. They turned to the stage when words failed and crafted one-person shows like Hidden: A Gender, tracing parallels between their life and that of Herculine Barbin, the 19th-century intersex memoirist. But Spolni izobčenci is not just academic or performative, it’s also achingly real. Bornstein writes candidly about living with PTSD, anorexia, and borderline personality disorder. The chaos of identity isn’t a metaphor here; it’s a lived, breathing reality. “Do whatever it takes to make your life more worth living,” they once wrote in Hello Cruel World, “just don’t be mean.”

 

This ethos flows through every page of Spolni izobčenci. It’s a book that cares deeply about its readers, especially those who feel out of place, misgendered, or misunderstood. Bornstein’s views on gender continue to evolve, as they shared in a 2021 LGBTQ&A podcast. Reflecting on aging during the pandemic, they noted how gender began to feel less central: “My face is sagging, my boobs are sagging... and you let go of that as being necessary to your gender.” It’s a sentiment that gives Spolni izobčenci new resonance in today’s world, where more and more people are rejecting fixed identities in favor of fluid, lived truths. Yet for all its intellectual daring, the heart of Spolni izobčenci is tender. Bornstein doesn’t want to smash the binary out of spite. They want to dismantle it because it hurts people, because it’s insufficient for love, desire, survival, and joy. This tenderness shows up in the way they write about their partner, Barbara Carrellas, and the chosen family they’ve built in New York City. It also echoes in the very structure of the book, which blends monologue, dialogue, autobiography, and activism into one playful, unpredictable form.

 

For Slovenian readers unfamiliar with Bornstein’s legacy, Spolni izobčenci is more than a translation, it’s a reckoning. A mirror held up to society, asking not only “Who are you?” but “Who could you be if you didn’t have to fit in?” It invites the reader into a lifelong project of unlearning and reimagining. It is, at its core, a hopeful book, even as it confronts trauma, exclusion, and despair. Bornstein’s work remains a lifeline for many. Whether it’s a young queer person in Ljubljana, an older reader questioning old assumptions, or someone simply looking to understand the world beyond pink and blue, Spolni izobčenci offers not just theory, but survival. It is a book written by someone who has seen the edge and decided to live anyway, and who wants you to do the same.

 

In their Heroines interview, Bornstein said, “I write for people who are marginalized, who are suicidal, who are cut off from their families and friends, who are bullied, who are terrified to come out.” That purpose burns bright through every Slovenian syllable of Spolni izobčenci. It is not a quiet book. It doesn’t ask politely. It doesn’t wait for permission. Like its author, it is brave, messy, loud, full of contradiction, and absolutely, defiantly alive.

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Photo via Heroines of My Life