When you first look at Giselle Donnelly’s résumé, you might expect to meet someone who only speaks in policy briefings and Pentagon jargon. She’s an Emerita Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, a specialist in national security and defense, a former staffer on the U.S. House Armed Services Committee, and the co-author of major strategy documents that helped shape American military thinking. She’s also worked as a journalist and editor, covering everything from the Gulf War to Somalia, and has been at the center of Washington’s biggest debates for decades. In short: Giselle knows her stuff. But that’s just one side of her story. The other side is deeply personal, and a lot more colorful. In 2018, after years of living a secret life, Giselle transitioned and began living openly as a trans woman. She credits her wife, Elizabeth Taylor (yes, that’s her real name!), with guiding her out of the shadows. Elizabeth runs a makeover studio for transgender women, and she spotted the truth about Giselle before Giselle herself did. Together, they’ve built a life filled with love, laughter, and music.
And speaking of music, when Giselle isn’t writing about military power, she’s picking up her guitar. A lifelong musician, she grew up on the blues and British rock of the 60s and 70s, and she still plays in bands today. Her stories about late-night gigs, conga lines spilling into the streets, and the eternal debate over whether to play Stairway to Heaven prove that she’s as much a rock ’n’ roll soul as she is a policy expert. At 72, Giselle is still going strong, working on a four-book series called The Personality of American Power, recording her own music, and enjoying what she calls the “euphoria” of living authentically. In this conversation, she shares her journey with honesty and humor: from shaping defense policy to reshaping her own life, from facing transphobia to finding joy, and from the halls of power to the stage lights of rock ’n’ roll.
Monika: Hello Giselle! Thank you for accepting my invitation.
Giselle: It is my honor and delight. Bless you for the work you do.
Monika: For readers meeting you for the first time, could you share a bit about who you are and the journey that brought you here?
Giselle: I am 72, and very happily married; I wouldn’t be where I am, or so happy, but for my wife, Elizabeth Taylor. She’s a lot younger than me, but what you would call an old soul, and she’s got a special understanding of transwomen, better than anyone I know. She has a makeover studio (shameless plug: makeoverswithelizabethtaylor), which she’s been running for 12 years, about the time we met. She knew I was trans before I did; like many, I’d long been in denial, living a deeply closeted and secret life. She led me out of the dark and into the light and gave me the opportunity to really love someone for the first time in my life.
Monika: That’s beautiful. How about on the professional side, what has your career path looked like?
Giselle: I am an Emerita Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute think tank, where I specialize in national security and military affairs. I began my career as a journalist, and also worked as a professional staffer on the US House Armed Services Committee. These jobs allowed me to travel widely – not always to the happiest places – but basically I write for a living and occasionally advise politicians. I am currently in the midst of a career-capping series of four books, collectively called “The Personality of American Power,” published by the State University of New York Press, unearthing the colonial roots of US strategy-making. But I also play a lot of guitar…
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| "I am 72, and very happily married." |
Monika: Jimmy Page once said every guitarist has something unique about their playing. So, what’s your secret ingredient, hot sauce, stubbornness, or just a firm life policy of “no, I will not play Stairway to Heaven” when someone yells it from the back of the bar?
Giselle: Well, I guess I’d rather play “Stairway” than “Free Bird.” But what I enjoy the most is twin-lead guitar music, where guitarists play lines in harmony or interweaving melodies – melody is the key to my playing, more than technical shredding. My music roots are in the late 1960s and early-to-mid 1970s, the blues-based British greats like Cream-era Clapton, Peter Green from Fleetwood Mac, and especially Andy Powell of Wishbone Ash.
Monika: Clapton, Peter Green, Andy Powell… those are some heavyweight guitar heroes. If all three magically turned up at your gig, which one would you hand your guitar to, and which one would you distract with free beer so you could keep your solos intact?
Giselle: I’d have a hard time giving up my guitar, because I’d want to play with those guys! Especially Powell, whom I’ve met but never played with. Of all, he’s been the biggest influence on me. Like Andy, I’ve been drawn to the Flying V guitar, which can look ridiculous but has a special, twangy but powerful and unique sound.
Monika: After playing guitar for ages, what’s changed more, your technique, your taste in strings, or the size of the calluses you’ve collected like rock ’n’ roll merit badges? And do you ever secretly show them off like trophies?
Giselle: What’s changed most is how hard it is to find other people to play with – not too many of my age who still have the energy to rehearse, move equipment or gig. It’s also been hard to find a guitar-playing partner since my brother passed away. That was some time ago, but we were in bands together for many years, and had a special understanding that’s almost impossible to replicate or replace. Not much has changed about the way I play or what I play, except perhaps I’m less likely to freak out up and down the fret board and now try to make each note count.
Monika: The 60s and 70s were all about improvisation. When you hit the stage with Delta 88, do you carefully plan your solos, or do you just let rip and trust the universe?
Giselle: It’s a mix. First of all, we’re down to a three-piece lineup, so there’s never a rest. Also, the covers we play – I am too set in my ways to learn new material! – are often mashups or medleys of 60s and 70s classics. They’re familiar but with our own twist. And, of course, many of these songs were originally just frameworks for jamming. Doing an old Cream song like “Politician” or “Sunshine of Your Love,” you want to impart a familiar feel – and they’re so based in the blues – but with a freshness you bring. The good part about playing in a trio is that you can bounce things off one another easily, have a musical conversation, for example in Sunshine.
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| "My music roots are in the late 1960s and early-to-mid 1970s." |
Monika: Did you experience a concert that became unforgettable, either because the music soared… or because something went so hilariously wrong you just had to laugh through it?
Giselle: The local music scene I grew up in was a world away from what exists now. Live bands in bars were not just for listening but for dancing. On a Friday or Saturday night you’d have to play six sets, until closing time at 2 in the morning. People would drink – maybe we did too, a bit – and get up close and personal with the band. I remember several experiences which were both hilarious and transcendent: many of the clubs were lined up along the Georgetown waterfront in Washington, DC, and, when it got late and rowdy, we’d have “conga lines” of dancers heading out into the streets while we were still playing. It was wild and crazy fun. Rock ‘n’ roll was central to people’s lives, brought them together, carried them away.
Monika: Were there any concerts early in your life that left a lasting impression on you?
Giselle: I remember two concerts – or a concert and a concert movie – that were formative for me. One was when I was 17. My parents took our family on a kind of “grand tour” of Europe in the summer of 1970 that was memorable in so many ways; it was in the midst of the 1970 World Cup which riveted everyone’s attention. At any rate, during our stay in Paris I was allowed to go out on my own to see the Cream “Farewell” concert movie that had just been released. I was already a devoted fan; I started out in bands playing bass, as many do just to get in bands, and I was a complete Jack Bruce fan.
The second was my first Wishbone Ash concert a few years later, I think in 1972. Ash were on their first US tour, and I was in college in upstate New York. My friends and I made a long drive (I think to Rochester) for the show, and I was blown away by the massive backline of Orange amps and the power and beauty of the twin-guitar sound. Whereas Cream was raw, bluesy psychedelia, this was clean, lyrical, almost folk music. The final song was a 20-minute rendition of “Phoenix” that went from a slow, spacy opening to a pulsing climax. Life has never been the same!
Monika: You mentioned that you occasionally advise politicians. I have to ask, do they actually listen, or do they just nod politely and then do whatever they were going to do anyway?
Giselle: Occasionally, they do listen. However, it’s usually a sign that something has gone very wrong. I worked in the US Congress at the height of the Balkans wars of the 1990s, and was the designated staff person on numerous “fact-finding” trips to the region. A lot of members of the House were skeptical of the need for American involvement; they just didn’t trust the Clinton Administration. But, particularly as atrocities began to mount, they began to see that there were some good guys and some bad guys, and that the United States should help the good guys. It was still hard to get them to distinguish between Serbs, Croats and Bosniacs, but they were coachable and had a basic moral sense.
Monika: As a writer and analyst specializing in military affairs and defense, do you think war is an unavoidable part of our lives, or might the world see fewer conflicts if more women were in positions of political power?
Giselle: Alas, human history is very much a history of violence and war; while men do most of the violence, I see no evidence that having women leaders would lessen the prospect of conflict; Indira Ghandi, Golda Meir and Margaret Thatcher were perfectly willing to go to war to protect what they thought were their countries’ national interests.
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| "I wasn’t treated with less respect. It was more like being professionally erased." |
Monika: Choosing a name is such a deeply personal decision, one that can hold layers of significance and meaning. How did you come to choose the name Giselle? Does it carry a special resonance for you, perhaps representing a part of your journey or embodying a particular feeling or aspiration?
Giselle: The name chose me. I won’t get too deeply into this, but I’m sure like many, especially of my generation, having to live a secret and closeted life can compel you to take risks that may not be the wisest things to do. So let’s just say that the name is a derivative of what I went by in what was a more libertine phase of life, but one that also reflects the fact that I’ve settled down quite a bit, become something of a suburban housewife. The path to transition isn’t always a straight one; even now it’s a journey more than a destination.
The name that really means a lot to me is my middle name, Frances. It’s my sister’s middle name and, in the masculine form with an “i” instead of an “e,” was my father’s middle name. It is a way to connect with both of them.
Monika: Transitioning is not just a personal journey; it also reshapes our relationships, especially with those who support us. Have you noticed a shift in how people treat you since your transition?
Giselle: Of course. It’s especially so for those who knew you beforehand. Colleagues I’ve worked with for decades didn’t see it coming and some have had a hard time adjusting. They can be prone to misgendering me, which isn’t out of hostility but habit. My children, too, have struggled with it, and with the divorce that it brought on. You have to become your true self, but in doing so you’re almost certain to cause others, including those you love, pain. But in general I haven’t really been discriminated against that I know of, and the town that I live in is very accepting of diversity of all sorts; it’s always been a kind of hippy haven. My people!
But to elaborate on what I said before: my wife is my true life partner and love. While I don’t mean to be calculating about it, it’s just true that the joy she brings me more than offsets the difficulties, pain, and loss. Also, I’m closer than ever to my sister, who thinks I’m now a much nicer person. Who am I to argue?
Monika: When I came out at work, I noticed some of my male colleagues suddenly treating me as if my transition had somehow lowered my IQ. Before your transition, you were already a respected and established analyst. Did you notice a similar shift in how people judged your intelligence or professional competence?
Giselle: I wasn’t treated with less respect. It was more like being professionally erased. Nor was it a matter of partisanship. Neither Democrats nor Republicans have had much time for me in matters of current policy. Oddly, it’s been easier to maintain my “standing” in Britain and Europe.
Monika: During your transition, did you have any transgender role models who inspired you or helped guide your journey?
Giselle: Not so much. To be repetitive: my wife was hugely helpful, in that she’s seen a wide variety of trans people through her work. One who did make a difference is Deirdre McCloskey, whom I admired both as a scholar and a transwoman. Her memoir, “Crossing,” is incredibly powerful. I’ve had the good fortune to meet her and my respect only grew.
I transitioned in 2018, when transphobic politics weren’t so powerful or vile. Bathroom bills were being repealed, not promoted. It was the “Transgender Tipping Point,” right? I really thought I could live a normal life; all the visible transwomen of that era were heroines who did so much good in normalizing us.
END OF PART 1
All photos: courtesy of Giselle Donnelly.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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