Interview by Andi Schwartz
Katherine Hubbard was the 2024-2025 Visiting Scholar in Sexuality Studies at the Centre for Feminist Research. In April 2025, she gave a talk titled "Me, Margaret Lowenfeld and Margaret Mead: Queer Kinship in the Past and in the Present" about her article "Being Captured by Queer Kinship: Margaret Lowenfeld and Margaret Mead" published in History of the Human Sciences. In this interview, Hubbard and Andi Schwartz discuss these works, the importance of queer subjectivity in historical studies, and the role queer history can play in fighting against far-right movements today.
In your article and visiting scholar talk about your work on the child psychologist Margaret Lowenfeld and anthropologist Margaret Mead, you describe how Lowenfeld literally ‘captured’ Mead in London in 1948 and made her pay attention to her work, and how Lowenfeld figuratively ‘captured’ you in the archives. How did you first encounter Lowenfeld, and what was so captivating about this figure?
It was during my PhD research into the history of projective tests in the UK that I first took note of her work and realized there was a disproportionate number of women involved in this area of Psychology. From there, I delved into the lives of some of these women and discovered they were arguably rather queer. With Lowenfeld, her rich archive at the Wellcome was such a resource, yet some of the more personal elements of her life are somewhat absent. I think what became so captivating initially was the investigative aspect of discovering about her personal life and her relationship with Ville Anderson. She was a bit of an enigma that resisted clear identification. People who knew her seemed to have rather contradictory things to say about her. I just found this so intriguing and this started my own thinking about what I thought of her. Did I like her? Often historical figures get overly simplified into neat narratives and their human complexity gets reduced. With Lowenfeld, I found she seemed to resist all simplification, and I was so intrigued by my own inability to make up my mind about her.
"There is so little concern about historical figures being viewed as cisgender and heterosexual; in fact, it’s taken as a given. Queer lineage and heritage can be owned by us if we name it as such."
Katherine Hubbard
Yes, in your work you describe Lowenfeld as an intense personality who was “at once both muscular and charming, frail and feminine.” You have also detailed this fascinating relationship with Ville Anderson, which spanned decades. There is certainly a queerness, it seems, to Lowenfeld’s gender and sexuality. I know historians have been hesitant to label figures from the past with modern terms for gender and sexuality, so could you talk a little about your decision to articulate Lowenfeld as queer, and what you mean that your work provides an antithesis to common heteronormative narratives?
Initially I was so hesitant and apprehensive about being explicit in my naming of Lowenfeld and others as queer. We are taught to be awfully careful about making these sorts of calls. But I was lucky enough to work with Professor Diane Watt and other incredible lesbian historians who made me think about this in a totally different way. For example, in The Lesbian Premodern, Diane talks about the title being deliberately anachronistic. I felt like I’d been given permission to make the claims I believed in. I’ve now totally swung the other way. To fear calling someone LGBTQ+ in the past when they might not have understood themselves that way implies a few things. One, that it is in some way offensive to be a gender or sexuality minority and that these are specific characteristics that we ought to be wary of applying, unlike plenty of other characteristics that are applied with no such regard. Two, that we always need to stick with terms grounded in the context of the figures of the past. I disagree with both of those points, and that is what I mean by an antithesis to common heteronormative narratives. Firstly, there is so little concern about historical figures being viewed as cisgender and heterosexual; in fact, it’s taken as a given, and something LGBTQI+ historians must ‘prove’ otherwise in order to stake a queer and/or trans claim. Secondly, I think it’s important to use contemporary understandings to frame the past: it’s one of the ways violent and systematically oppressive systems get called out. It is also queer people’s history: it’s my history. This queer lineage and heritage can be owned by us if we name it as such. All history is anachronistic and it’s important to embrace that subjectivity. In doing so it can be (re)claimed and things can be done with it. After all, history is not passive, it does things.
Related to that question, common wisdom is that academics should be “objective.” But what did bringing your own subjectivity as a queer, feminist, woman offer to the research and analysis? And what is the significance of this approach in the field of queer history?
In embracing my own subjectivity, I have not only felt more confident in my own epistemology and belief in my lived experience, but I’ve also deepened my analysis. To shed the shield of pretended objectivity has allowed me to quite literally feel my way through the archive and literature in a different way. Research is personal and the questions we ask are related to us. So by feeling my way through and paying closer attention to the feelings that arise, I’ve been more attentive to what materials do and don’t say, between the lines. The absences speak more loudly. I feel more connected to what I am studying and I genuinely believe it’s a more honest and transparent approach. Epistemological advantage is real. In valuing and recognizing my own specific and partial view, I am more open to learning from others. Especially those with different viewpoints to me, which I think is conducive to more reparative readings. In terms of queer history specifically, I think coming from a queer perspective and being aware of affective impact puts you in a valuable position to interpret materials and see things that might otherwise go unseen. Queer and trans history is one of bonfires, so it takes an extra level of analysis to interpret it. In my view, that level of analysis requires queer inclusive and affirmative perspectives that begin from a place of queer belonging and expand from there.
"Feminist work and queer work continues to be marginal, liminal, and outside of the mainstream of most academic fields. So it’s really useful for us to find one another, experience that kinship, and share resources."
Katherine Hubbard
She is one of the founding members of the Sex, Gender and Sexuality Research Group at the University of Surrey, is a past Chair of the University LGBTQI Equality Group, and was the first Programme Director for the interdisciplinary MSc course in Sex, Gender and Sexuality studies having established it. She is also a Co-I on the FUTURESEX initiative which aims to bridge academic, activist, and community groups and an international member of Psychology's Feminist Voices. She received the American Psychological Association (Society for the History of Psychology Division 26) career award (2024).
In your talk, you described feeling nervous to present this work to the trustees of the Dr Margaret Lowenfeld Trust, many of whom are her descendants. What has the reception of this work been like?
Reception has been very positive! Again, I think I was carrying the fear of being called anachronistic and unfair in my analysis. Once that impossible goal of objectivity was shed, it was possible to open up. I know that some people will disagree with my analysis, especially since I’ve been more transparent about my own perspectives and identities in conducting the analysis. But I’ve stopped being concerned about it: I probably wouldn’t agree with their interpretation either. Instead, I’ve found an incredible array of transdisciplinary literature which embraces subjectivity, affect, and emotions in research. This body of work is often the work of feminist and queer scholars who I deeply admire. This is a good place for me: this feminist space is where I shall stay.
I think your work offers a very capacious understanding of queer kinship that can include our friends, colleagues, lovers, children, ancestors, and even historical figures we are drawn to. You describe Lowenfeld’s work as benefitting from queer kinship—specifically, her professional relationship with Mead and her intimate relationship with Anderson—and yourself as feeling a sense of kinship with these archives. I’m curious about the importance of these capacious kinship networks for doing research in the field of gender and sexuality?
Thank you, I’m so glad you think so. As history shows us, marginalized groups are often rather good at generating diverse kinship networks and reimagining family ties, and of course the queer community is an exemplar of this. For scholarly work I think the need for capacious kinship networks is deeply important. One reason for this is that LGBTQI+ studies continues to live a little on the outskirts. Its transdisciplinary nature means it doesn’t quite fit. Feminist work and queer work continues to be marginal, liminal, and outside of the mainstream of most academic fields. So it’s really useful for us to find one another, experience that kinship, and share resources. Going back to feelings a little, it helps avoid isolation, vulnerability, and low confidence in queer work. Finding your people is always a good thing: to align with others who have the same outlook, politically and epistemologically. All research is politically motivated in some way, and in gender and sexuality research that is even more evident. For me, situating myself within communities of inclusive and affirmative researchers has been critical.
"Queer historical and archival work certainly has a role to play against the rise of anti-queer and anti-trans movements. Many affirmative slogans emerging out of current trans and ally movements have historical leanings. For example, statements around how trans people have always existed and will always exist actively fights against anti-trans sentiments that suggest being trans is somehow ‘new.’"
Katherine Hubbard
I find it interesting that for last two years in a row, the Visiting Scholar in Sexuality Studies at the CFR has been a scholar working with queer archives, or queering archives! (And I got to interview both of you!) What do you think is the significance of queer historical or archival work in the current moment, in which we are seeing anti-queer and, especially, anti-trans sentiment, policy, and movements on the rise in places like the UK, the US, and Canada?
There is certainly a very real and alarming rise in anti-queer and especially anti-trans sentiment, policy, and movements, as you say. Queer historical and archival work certainly has a role to play. I’ve noticed that many affirmative slogans emerging out of current trans and ally movements have historical leanings. For example, statements around how trans people have always existed and will always exist. These draw upon certain discourses of universality and temporal continuity and this actively fights against anti-trans sentiments that suggest being trans is somehow ‘new.’ In terms of research and scholarly work it’s important to recognize the political nature of what we produce and how activism is integral to academic work in gender and sexuality studies. What we produce has effects, it has some degree of power, so use it for as much good as possible. I’d also argue that this shift to the far-right we are seeing is further evidence that progress is neither linear nor easily won. Using the tools we have is critical to continue to resist these broader anti-equity and anti-diversity initiatives. That is why finding queer and trans inclusive and affirming community is critical, in both activism and academia.
Andi Schwartz is the Coordinator of the CFR and a researcher on the SSHRC-funded project "'On Our Own Terms': An Oral History and Archive of Queer Femme Community and Culture in Toronto, 1990-2000" and with the Critical Femininities Research Cluster.