In the mid-20th century, Casablanca was more than just the backdrop of a Hollywood classic, for a small group of courageous people, it became the setting of their rebirth. In 1956, French gynecologist Georges Burou quietly opened a clinic where he performed experimental and illegal sex reassignment surgeries. At a time when gender transition was shrouded in secrecy, stigma, and outright impossibility in most parts of the world, Burou’s discreet Moroccan practice became a beacon of hope. His reputation spread quickly across Europe.
Before long, famous figures such as the French performer Marie-Pierre Pruvot, known to the world as Bambi, the flamboyant British model April Ashley, Belgian dancer Corinne van Tongerloo, German pioneer Jean Lessenich, and Dutch beautician Colette Berends made their way to Casablanca. They were among the first wave of people who risked everything, socially, financially, and physically, to live as women. Their stories, groundbreaking at the time, would go on to inspire future generations.
More than half a century later, Dutch writer Daniëlle Serdijn and filmmaker Michiel van Erp revisited these trailblazers in the book I Am a Woman Now, published as a companion to van Erp’s internationally acclaimed documentary of the same name.
While the film introduced audiences to these five women’s striking personalities and histories, the book dives deeper into their reflections, their joys, their regrets, and their confrontation with something none of them had imagined in their youth: aging.
The book begins, fittingly, with a pilgrimage. Corinne van Tongerloo, now a refined elderly woman, travels back to Casablanca to visit Dr. Burou’s grave. For her, as for the others, Casablanca was more than a geographical destination, it was the site of her second birth. Burou died in the 1980s, leaving behind a legacy both controversial and revered. To his patients, however, he was nothing less than a miracle worker, a man who gave them the bodies they had always imagined for themselves. Yet I Am a Woman Now makes it clear that Burou is not the real subject. Instead, the spotlight shines on those who entrusted him with their futures.
The book focuses on how they have lived, loved, struggled, and aged since those fateful journeys to Morocco.
Among the book’s most memorable voices is April Ashley, once a glamorous model and actress in swinging 1960s London. Ashley’s sharp wit and aristocratic elegance, complete with a taste for champagne and a dash of purple in her hair, give her chapters a lively sparkle. But beneath the glamour lies a history of hardship. Ashley recalls a brutal childhood, rejection, and the difficulties of being one of the most visible transgender women of her time. Her reflections are at once humorous and sobering. She embodies both the pride of survival and the scars of visibility in an era when being outed could end careers and friendships overnight.
Marie-Pierre Pruvot, better known by her stage name Bambi, was one of Dr. Burou’s earliest patients and later a celebrated cabaret performer in Paris. Unlike some of the others, Bambi’s reflections are suffused with gratitude. She does not dwell on regret or doubt but instead highlights the profound sense of freedom her surgery afforded her. In her view, her transition transformed her life for the better and allowed her to pursue a career, a community, and a personal identity she might never have known otherwise. Her chapters illustrate a resilience that feels almost defiant. Bambi’s voice resonates as a reminder that while gender transition is never a uniform story, for many it is a story of liberation.
Colette Berends, once a Dutch beautician and vibrant presence, offers perhaps the most bittersweet story. She recalls the joys of romance, beauty, and independence, yet admits to struggles with loneliness and fear of aging. Her decision to leave a much younger partner, she confesses, stemmed not only from societal pressure but also from her own anxieties about becoming “an old woman.” Her voice captures one of the book’s central themes: the gap between youthful fantasy and the reality of aging. While transition brought freedom, it did not protect against the vulnerabilities of time.
Returning once more to Corinne, her journey back to Casablanca frames the book’s exploration of memory and legacy. A dancer in her youth, she carries herself with grace even as she reflects on pain, loss, and the complexities of identity. Her visit to Burou’s grave is both a gesture of gratitude and an acknowledgment of the fragility of the lives he helped create.
At its heart, I Am a Woman Now is less about the surgeries themselves and more about what comes after. What does it mean to grow old as a trans woman who was among the very first to make this journey?
None of the five women had pictured old age in their youthful fantasies of transformation. As one observes, “Being an old woman was never part of the fantasy.” This theme sets the book apart. While countless documentaries and books have focused on the spectacle of transition, I Am a Woman Now examines the long arc of life afterward, the triumphs, the friendships, the loves, and the disappointments.
Having first explored these women’s lives in his award-winning documentary, Michiel van Erp approaches their stories with sensitivity and respect. His collaboration with Daniëlle Serdijn in book form allows for richer detail, deeper interviews, and the chance to explore nuance. The result is a moving, multifaceted portrait of five extraordinary women who carved out space for themselves in a world that often denied them existence.
I Am a Woman Now is more than a historical record. It is a meditation on identity, resilience, and aging. It honors pioneers who, at great personal risk, laid the groundwork for the trans rights movement long before it entered mainstream conversation. The book neither romanticizes nor sensationalizes. Instead, it gives its subjects room to laugh, to cry, to confess, and to celebrate. It acknowledges both regret and joy, underscoring the diversity of transgender experience. For readers today, it serves as both a history lesson and a mirror. It reminds us how far society has come, and how much further it must go. Above all, it preserves the voices of women who dared to imagine a life that, in their youth, seemed impossible, and who, in doing so, helped make that life possible for others.
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