On October 17, 2017, the trajectory of my life changed forever. I was 19 years old, living in rural Kansas, pursuing a dead-end degree in Christian ministry, and closeted as transgender. That day, I drove 12 hours to Chicago to see a new musical starring my childhood hero, Dani Shay. Shay was bringing to life the story of a Civil War veteran who ultimately saved my life.
In the tapestry of American history, the thread of Albert Casher deserves far more attention than it has received. Born Jennifer Hodgers in Ireland in 1843, Casher enlisted in the Union Army during the Civil War and navigated the gendered constraints of the battlefield and society with remarkable fortitude. When Casher was exposed and put on trial, sparking turmoil in Midwestern towns, threatening his life and pension, his comrades came to his aid, recounting the losses, life lessons, and heroism they shared on the battlefields so many years before.
“The Civility of Albert Casher” is more than a historical reenactment; the musical is a sensitive exploration of identity, courage, friendship and the nature of civility. The creators of the show, bookwriter/lyricist J. Paul Derratany and composer/lyricists Keaton Wooden and Joe Stevens, have meticulously researched Casher’s life to deliver a story that embodies the quiet strength and dignity of civility – lessons that are more timely than ever.
Producers Kristin Russell, Robert J. Ulrich and Della Tanny are bringing Cashier’s Story to Burbank’s Colony Theatre, with previews starting Saturday, opening night September 7th and performances through September 22nd. I helped shoot production photos and video for the show.
“The Civility of Albert Casher” changed my reality and propelled me towards the true life I live now. A few months before I met Casher, I had finished playing Randolph McAfee in Friends University’s “Bye Bye Birdie.” The role gave me the opportunity to reveal a secret I’d been hiding my whole life: I’m transgender.
In rural Kansas, the queer community was never talked about, much less accepted, and I remember telling myself over and over again when I was just 10 years old, “I’m not a boy, I’m a girl, and I always will be a girl.” I wish little Asher had known what was coming.
As I left my father’s house and became more independent and explored the world, I began to question the gender norms I had established. During technical training week on Bye Bye Birdie, I had my chest bound for the first time. Despite profuse apologies from the costume director, I found myself crying in front of the mirror in the women’s dressing room. It wasn’t because I felt out of sync, but because I was in awe of how in tune my mind and body were with playing a male character.
In “The Politeness of Albert Casher,” it was Albert’s final number, “Breathe, Walk, Go Home,” that shook me to my core. Albert reiterates the strength, resilience, and integrity he has shown so many times before. In that moment, I resolved to “Breathe, Walk, Go Home.” That night, I became my home. I went into myself and was present.
After the show, Dani, my friend Jamie, and I had dinner and talked about my life as a closeted non-binary person. For the first time in my life, I began to question my identity. That day was the first time I asked someone to use “they/them” pronouns to validate my gender.
From that day, my future was born. Two months after seeing “Albert Casher,” I visited Los Angeles for the first time. Six months after that visit, I stepped into myself and my truth. Since then, I’ve been fortunate to live in the city of my dreams, come out as transgender, realize my dream of becoming a professional photographer, and have the best family a human being could ask for. It’s all because of Albert.
Asher Phoenix (left) and Dani Shay inside the Colony Theatre in Burbank.
(Michael Blacksher/Los Angeles Times)
I am struck by the parallels between the life of the closeted transgender Civil War infantryman and that of a contemporary transgender teenager in America. At the end of her life, Cassia was violently stripped of her identity and dignity. Across the country, anti-transgender laws persecute and ruin the lives of young people in small towns across America. Cassia’s experience of having her identity scrutinized and her life judged doesn’t seem so different from what I experienced when I came out to my Midwestern evangelical family.
I hope this essay will reach readers who were confused, hiding, questioning, and wandering like I was once, and that it will have a profound impact on their lives as Albert did on mine. Or at least, I hope it will change one of their closed-off ideas about the humanity of the transgender community. I know that this essay has opened my mind and my life to the possibility of affirming my transgenderness. And I can’t help but wonder what my upbringing would have been like if my family had been exposed to “Albert Casher’s Civility.”