Professor Martha Nell Smith didn’t seek a queer icon when she began studying Emily Dickinson, but she found one nonetheless. Her groundbreaking work in the 1980s began to reshape how we understand the famed poet and her place in LGBTQ+ history, revealing a hidden dimension to Dickinson’s life and work.
Dickinson, a prolific writer from Amherst, Massachusetts, captured the essence of life, death, love, and nature in verses that continue to resonate today. Familiar lines like “hope is the thing with feathers” and “because I could not stop for Death” are etched into the literary landscape, but a deeper, more personal story was waiting to be uncovered.
The key lay in Dickinson’s letters – thousands of pages offering a rare glimpse into the soul of this reclusive figure. Smith began to notice a striking pattern in these correspondences, a consistent and intense focus on Susan Dickinson, the poet’s sister-in-law. A “queer edge,” as Smith describes it, began to emerge.
The realization was profound: “She was in love with this woman.” A letter to Susan, brimming with longing, revealed the depth of her feelings: “Oh that you were [here], my Susie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us, and your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language.” Susan was repeatedly described as a “jewel,” a testament to the affection Dickinson held for her.
This intimate connection found its way onto the screen in adaptations like the 2018 film *Wild Nights with Emily* and, more prominently, in Apple TV+'s *Dickinson*, a series that boldly portrays the poet as a lesbian. Hailee Steinfeld’s portrayal of Dickinson and Ella Hunt’s Susie brought this hidden narrative to life for a new audience.
However, this interpretation wasn’t easily accepted. Smith encountered resistance from established scholars who dismissed the romantic undertones as mere friendship. As a graduate student, she was granted access to Dickinson’s original manuscripts and confided in Mary Landis Hampson, a family friend who inherited a home connected to the Dickinsons.
Hampson’s response was startling. After Smith cautiously suggested the relationship could be described as lesbian, Hampson slammed her cane and declared, “You are absolutely right, and you must tell their story, but you be careful, because they will try to destroy you for it. Don’t you ever forget that you’re right.” This became a powerful mandate to reveal the truth.
Smith faced pushback, with “very prominent scholars” accusing her of going too far. But she remained steadfast, believing the evidence spoke for itself. To reduce the relationship to platonic affection, argues Kirsty Loehr, author of *A Short History of Queer Women*, is deeply damaging.
“It diminishes deeply loving and meaningful relationships,” Loehr explains. “Without a visible past, it becomes incredibly difficult for queer people to imagine a present, let alone a future… People deserve to see themselves reflected in history.” Representation matters, offering validation and a sense of belonging.
Layla McCay, author of *The Queer Bookshelf*, emphasizes the importance of portraying diverse queer experiences. “When you think about people and generations past who largely only got to see that being a queer woman equals ending up in an asylum or being killed, that’s such a bleak and unhelpful message.” Modern portrayals offer hope and demonstrate the possibility of joy and fulfillment.
The impact of seeing oneself in history is transformative. Kirsty Loehr recalls the loneliness of growing up without seeing queer representation in historical narratives. Discovering Sarah Waters’ *Tipping the Velvet* changed everything, revealing a world of queer women navigating their lives and desires.
Dickinson’s story is resonating with a new generation. Smith has seen a surge in enrollment in her Dickinson class at the Maryland Institute for Technology in the Humanities, fueled by interest in the Apple TV+ series. The show is not only attracting new readers but also challenging traditional, conservative interpretations of the poet’s life and work.
These adaptations present Dickinson not as a tragic, isolated figure, but as a strong, passionate woman. This resonates with students, offering a more empowering and relatable image. The act of bringing these stories to light is a powerful and radical act, reminding us that queer narratives have always existed.
As Layla McCay concludes, “It all comes full circle in the end and you realise that queer stories have been here for centuries, for millennia, and goodness, how fascinating it is to read about us through time.” The rediscovery of Emily Dickinson’s story is a testament to the enduring power of truth and the importance of representation.
