“You’re writing a history of sex? The whole of it?” Many people asked me some version of this question over the years that I have worked on this book, and each time, my heart briefly stopped beating. That I have managed to complete it is a testament to the support I received from friends, family, and colleagues near and far.
Kathleen Brown, Joanne Meyerowitz, and Nicholas Syrett were the first people to read a complete draft of the book. They were generous with their time and expertise, not least during a three-hour Zoom conversation to discuss the manuscript’s path forward. I am enormously grateful for their wise counsel. Anne Boylan, Richard Godbeer, Christine Heyrman, and Dael Norwood each read several chapter drafts. I have endeavored to follow the advice of these deeply learned—and gracious—scholars at every turn. Stephanie Coontz read multiple drafts of the introduction; her many years of encouragement and advice are priceless gifts. For reading and critiquing chapters aligned with their areas of expertise, I additionally thank Kimberly Blockett, Julio Capó, Rachel Hope Cleves, Jayatri Das, Gillian Frank, April Haynes, Ronni Hayon, Cheryl Hicks, Emily Hobson, Lauren Gutterman, Regina Kunzel, Amanda Littauer, Serena Mayeri, Bethany Moreton, Julia Ott, Dan Royles, Leigh Eric Schmidt, Emily Skidmore, Marc Stein, and Cookie Woolner. Their feedback helped me see the bigger picture emerging from the book’s details, sharpened my analysis, and reminded me that collegiality is at the heart of good scholarship. Any remaining errors or omissions are mine alone. Anya Jabour, Cindy Ott, and Lauren Hunley shared their knowledge about Montana and Indigenous history with me. Anthony R. G. Hardaway generously gave his time to speak with me about his life and work, and Diane Sands shared her memories about abortion politics in Montana. Jeff Maskofsky recalled key details about his experience of caring for Kiyoshi Kuromiya during his final illness.
Independent scholars, community organizations, and academic faculty and institutions have gathered crucial information about the history of sexuality through the collection of oral histories. For work that is not only priceless but publicly available, I want especially to thank Joan Nestle and the Lesbian Herstory Archives; Marc Stein and Jonathan Ned Katz at OutHistory.org; Tommi Avicolli Mecca; Carlin Ross; and the historians who created the Illegal Abortion in Montana Oral History Project and the Montana Feminist History Oral History Collection at the University of Montana’s Mansfield Library.
For excellent research assistance, I thank Peyton Cleary, Madeline Price, Helen Siers, Andrea Spencer, and Natalie Walton. Peyton deserves a medal for her extraordinary contributions to this project, double-checking page numbers, organizing the images and permissions, locating elusive documents, and remaining a steadfast voice of calm competence.
A twelve-month Public Scholar Award from the National Endowment for the Humanities, Grant FZ-280071–21, was exactly what I needed to complete this book. The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of the NEH. My thanks as well to the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Delaware, and Associate Dean Wendy Bellion in particular, for providing a subvention for costs associated with image reproduction and permissions, and to Alison Parker, chair of the Department of History, for unflagging support.
Opportunities to present early versions of this research to the Herbert D. Katz Center for Judaic Studies at the University of Pennsylvania and the Colloquium of Religion and Sexuality (CORAH) at the University of Notre Dame generated the perfect combination of enthusiasm and critical feedback. Special thanks to Steven Weitzman at Penn and Darren Dochuk at Notre Dame for organizing those talks.
Librarians are the historian’s secret weapon. Special thanks to John Anderies, archivist extraordinaire at the John J. Wilcox, Jr. Archives of the William Way LGBT Community Center in Philadelphia, for pointing me in the direction of Kiyoshi Kuromiya and sharing his deep knowledge of Philadelphia’s queer history, and to Molly M. Wolf at the Widener Sexuality Archives, who made space for me to explore their library’s excellent collection. My gratitude as well to the staffs of the Human Sexuality Collection at Cornell University, the Library Company of Philadelphia, and the resplendent Interlibrary Loan Department at the University of Delaware (who I hope at least found some enjoyment in sourcing all the erotica I requested). I am indebted to Kaitlyn Tanis, the history librarian at the University of Delaware, who helped me navigate the vast landscape of digital resources.
Special thanks to Lila Berman, Kimberly Blockett, Eve Buckley, Jennifer Gallo-Fox, Serena Mayeri, Bethany Moreton, Julia Ott, and Dael Norwood, as well as Roxanne Donovan and the community she nurtures at WellAcademic, for company while writing and the extraordinary gift of their friendship. Samira Mehta, Jayatri Das, Sara Bressi, Leah Hart Tennen, Abby Sipress, Ronni Hayon, Deborah Kahn, Whitney and David Posternack, Kate Tejada, Melissa Crawford, and Natalie Tronson cheered me on when I needed encouragement most, and I love them for it.
Dan Gerstle has sharpened my thinking, my writing, and my appreciation for the revision process. It is to his endless credit that he saw the need for this book, and I am indebted to him for believing that I could write it. I cannot imagine developing this book in partnership with any other editor. The pros in Norton’s editorial, production, and marketing teams are a pleasure to work with. My thanks especially to Zeba Arora and Rebecca Munro. I am indebted to Rachelle Mandik for her copy edits and to Ingsu Liu for the book’s stunning cover. Matthew Avery Sutton’s kind words connected me to Sandra Dijkstra, and I remain grateful for that opportunity.
To my parents, Nancy and Charles Davis; my sister, Sarah Davis; my mother-in-law, Sandra Hoffman, and her partner, Donald Lustig; and all my sisters- and brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews, thank you for love that endures and grows.
I promised my children that I would not dedicate a book about sex to them. But that doesn’t mean I can’t say here that Jonathan and Hannah are my life’s greatest joys. Once again, Mark, thank you for all the things that you know, and I know, that matter most of all.