Sometimes, the richest archival material is tucked away in the margins. For independent researcher Grayson Cabarle, the papers of transmasculine activist Johnny Science offer exactly that: an intimate record of community life in and around New York City during the late twentieth century, and a history that actively muddies the waters of some long-held assumptions about our history. 

Rather than reinforcing tidy historical narratives, Johnny Science’s archive reflects the messiness of lived experience. It documents overlapping identities, shared organizing spaces, and relationships that complicate long-held assumptions about the boundaries between butch, bisexual, and transmasculine communities. Through meticulous archival work and a lived understanding of New York’s queer geography, Cabarle is interpreting important new perspectives on these histories. We spoke with him about finding the archive, navigating institutional research as an independent historian, and why preserving local trans histories matters right now. 

Ally Krueger-Kischak: Can you tell us a bit about the moment when you first came across Johnny Science’s papers?  

Grayson Cabrale: I first came to Johnny Science through the Instagram page sexchange.tbt, where he came up a few times as “Johnny A” based out of Tenafly, NJ with a meetup group in New York City. The owner of the page, Jamie Keiles, told me that Johnny’s papers were at New York University and that I could go look at them. 

AKK: How would you describe Johnny Science’s role in understanding New York City’s queer and trans scene during his time within it? What sort of insights do you see his sources holding for us? 

GC: I think Johnny Science as a real person who existed is really significant to understanding not only transmasculine organizing in New York City, but also how communities actually functioned in the late 20th century in a non-theoretical way.  

So, for example, you have this idea that, in the 1990s, female to male transsexuals and butch lesbians were completely at odds, with no room in-between for what Jack Halberstam calls the “transgender butch.” Johnny’s archives tell a much more nuanced story in which communities on the ground are always sort of working it out, given that they have to share spaces and resources.  

I can look at a flyer for “women who identify as butch” in his archive, and piece together why he might have owned it through cross-referencing the group in the Lesbian Herstory Archives. And I find that he had the flyer because in March 1998, the Gender Identity Project and Women Who Identify as Butch had a ‘Butches Rap with FTMs’ session at the LGBT center. At this time, Johnny would have been living and doing activism as a bisexual man who once lived and did activism as a bisexual woman. There is no other comparable collection that I know of where a female-to-male transsexual person existed at so many intersections in roughly the same geographic area for as long as he did. 

AKK: As someone deeply connected to New York City’s queer and trans communities, where do you see the continuities and changes from Johnny Science’s era? How does that community and spatial knowledge inform your research? 

GC: Community and spatial understanding is incredibly important to me. I find it important to keep local transmasculine stories alive because it helps people feel like they’re not alone. A lot has changed since the late 20th century, but probably the largest changes are geographic. Trans people have really been expelled from central and downtown Manhattan. When you watch the film Peter Hujar’s Day, which is set in 1974, you can see how compact alternative communities were in the city. Johnny split his time between living in New Jersey and New York City, but he centralized his work in Manhattan, which was a hub for queer life. I think living here gives me a real sense of place for that sort of thing. The major question for most of the work becomes: why? 

AKK: What has it been like doing this work as an independent researcher over the last few years? How do you see your role in relation to (or perhaps outside of) institutional research? 

GC: Navigating the work as an independent researcher has been difficult. A major reason that I have decided to go to graduate school is that being affiliated with an institution, even in the loosest sense of the word, makes research easier for you. It gives you access to resources that you might not have otherwise. That said, I don’t see my future being in academia. I would like to write nonfiction on the side when I am done. Queer and trans historical work is too important to me to make it my main source of income. I think having a boring job keeps me grounded. 

AKK: As someone who works in trans public and digital history, how have you navigated the boundaries between public and private when working with this archive? Has your approach changed in the current climate of digital censorship? 

GC: I try to put myself in someone’s shoes when I’m writing or posting something online. What audience was this made for? If this was me, would I want it where anyone could find it? It gets complicated when people have stigmatized jobs, but I just try to do my best. I would never refuse to take something offline if someone said, ‘that’s my likeness and it makes me uncomfortable for that to be online.’ 

Digital infrastructure can be a challenge when you’re uploading historical documents about LGBT life. Another challenge though is the destruction of small publications. This leads to de-facto censorship because there are fewer opportunities to pitch stories. It’s harder to grow as a writer than it used to be. All these laid off journalists are starting blogs, so your writing has to compete with theirs. And on top of that you have to deal with AI! 

AKK: What’s next for you?! 

GC: I’m currently working on a historical essay about transmasculinity and glam rock. The two subjects show up side by side throughout the archive, and I hadn’t really seen anyone talk about it. I’m also going to graduate school at City College of New York in August. I love the people there and the campus in Harlem, so I’m really excited. 

Cabarle’s work demonstrates how archives become living, flowing records that shape how communities understand themselves. By tracing new and muddier connections between the people, places, and organizations around Johnny Science during his time in NYC, his research highlights the complexity of community life that official narratives often miss. If Johnny Science’s archive proves anything, it’s that these histories have always been here, it just depends who’s looking. 

Cabarle approaches this work with curiosity and care, and we wish him the best of luck as he begins his time at CCNY.

Ally Krueger-Kischak (any/all) is a Research Assistant on the Drag Kings Oral History Project. As an MA candidate in History and Sexual Diversity Studies, their research explores trans and queer rural histories, futurities, and working-class environmentalism in Southern Ontario.

Grayson Cabarle (he/him) is a writer, artist, and community historian in New York City. He has authored several short stories, essays, and zines centered on queer and transmasculine life (and nightlife) in the late 20th century. In the fall, he is pursuing an MA in History at CCNY.