If you want to write about gender for children, begin by writing for children
It's true, I'm interested in talking about gender with children as well as with adults. In fact I may be more interested in having the conversation with children. I do have conversations, and there are games and activities that I lead, but as a nerd, I often turn to books. I want books that encourage and inspire children, I want books that present a wide away of genders as valid, and want stories where gender variant, gender exuberant, gender independent, and trans people are sheroes and heroes. And I want these to be books children will love.
The biggest challenge with looking for books like these is that they are often "issue books" and issue books are often so busy presenting the issue that they fail to be a good story. They are the kind of books that well meaning adults buy for children, and read to them. They are seldom popular with children, and after a few initial readings get set aside in favor of good stories. I am a well meaning adult. I buy those books. I've been having some particular frustrations with this lately on books that upon first glance held so much promise.
My current frustrations are Cheryl Kilodavis' My Princess Boy, Jason Martinez's My Mommy Is A Boy, and Brendan Halpin's Donor Boy. They are all well intentioned - and none of them interesting enough for me to want to read them a second time, pass them on to children or recommend them to anyone else. Both Kilodavis and Martinez are writing about their own families, and I think that these are books full of love intended to support their children. I can get behind and support that as a motive, and want to encourage things that make children feel loved. When I was little I had books my parents made for me about my baby sister coming home from the hospital, and about things I could do, and I loved having books about me. Key phrase there, "I loved having books about me". Wisely, my parents did not try to publish these books so they could reach a wider audience - they were perfectly constructed for an audience of one. I think the same is true for My Princess Boy and My Mommy is a Boy - for their audience of one, they are perfect.
I'm particularly disappointed about My Princess Boy, with it's mainstream publisher and all the media attention this book should have been better. The mum has said some really powerful things in interviews and done well at sensitively talking about how to raise a feminine boy, and yet the book fails. I want there to be a story here, and a plot, and while we are at it, if it is a book for children, make it a book about a child, not about his mother. And I felt very clear about that until this week. This week I met with some caring professionals about supporting a boy who loves princesses and pink, and who would find the words "princess boy" totally affirming. The title, and the cover page in pink would be beautifully affirming for him, and I imagine him reading the words "princess boy" page after page would be affirming, and he so longs for affirmation, that he is not going to care that there is no story, and no characters. He will likely find the ending disappointing, but sometimes discovering words for yourself is enough. I want to give the book to him and no-one else. I think of him, and it is not my childhood that I remember but my nascent trans-self in1997 or 1998. In the late 90s Toronto was home to am amazing festival called Counting Past 2 - it was a trans film festival staged out of the love, grit and toil of a number of phenomenal transpeople. I remember that while some of the films lacked artistic merit, it was so fucking good to see films about trans identities by transpeople. The films said that we existed, that we were creating art, and that our stories mattered. In the films we belonged, and came home. I imagine that My Princess Boy might offer similar solace to this six year old. A decade and a half after the first Counting Past 2, there are amazing trans films by trans people and Toronto's Inside and Out festival annually includes well curated Transprogram, but nothing stands out more for me than that first evening of seeing belonging on a screen. One day there will be better books that speak to princess boys and their gender variant siblings, but until then, this is what we've got, and belonging is a value all of it's own.
Alright, moving from picture books to YA novels, we have Brendan Halpin's Donor Boy. Brendan, what were you doing? The best thing about this book was while searching for a link for it for this post I came across this blog about YA books about donor conception. I love this list and will work my way through them. Donor Boy is the story of a donor who decides to become a dad when the child he helped conceive is orphaned. The donor was still listed on the child's birth certificate and he uses this to take custody over the wishes of the child and her chosen family. A great deal of the book is his angst ridden e-mails to a friend of his about whether he's done the right thing, and whether he's an okay dad. The young person gets lost. We seldom hear about her feelings, and hear oh so much about the donor's. The book is written almost entirely it text messages, e-mails and on-line chat sessions, which is an overly obvious attempt by the author to appeal to young people - his pandering technique is transparent and condescending and does not make up for the clunky writing. Look at the link to the blog of books about donor conception, pick something else and be glad you did.
Just for the record, it's not all piss and vinegar and ranting about faux-children's books around here. Just to prove it, here's some books about gender for children that I love:
The biggest challenge with looking for books like these is that they are often "issue books" and issue books are often so busy presenting the issue that they fail to be a good story. They are the kind of books that well meaning adults buy for children, and read to them. They are seldom popular with children, and after a few initial readings get set aside in favor of good stories. I am a well meaning adult. I buy those books. I've been having some particular frustrations with this lately on books that upon first glance held so much promise.
My current frustrations are Cheryl Kilodavis' My Princess Boy, Jason Martinez's My Mommy Is A Boy, and Brendan Halpin's Donor Boy. They are all well intentioned - and none of them interesting enough for me to want to read them a second time, pass them on to children or recommend them to anyone else. Both Kilodavis and Martinez are writing about their own families, and I think that these are books full of love intended to support their children. I can get behind and support that as a motive, and want to encourage things that make children feel loved. When I was little I had books my parents made for me about my baby sister coming home from the hospital, and about things I could do, and I loved having books about me. Key phrase there, "I loved having books about me". Wisely, my parents did not try to publish these books so they could reach a wider audience - they were perfectly constructed for an audience of one. I think the same is true for My Princess Boy and My Mommy is a Boy - for their audience of one, they are perfect.
I'm particularly disappointed about My Princess Boy, with it's mainstream publisher and all the media attention this book should have been better. The mum has said some really powerful things in interviews and done well at sensitively talking about how to raise a feminine boy, and yet the book fails. I want there to be a story here, and a plot, and while we are at it, if it is a book for children, make it a book about a child, not about his mother. And I felt very clear about that until this week. This week I met with some caring professionals about supporting a boy who loves princesses and pink, and who would find the words "princess boy" totally affirming. The title, and the cover page in pink would be beautifully affirming for him, and I imagine him reading the words "princess boy" page after page would be affirming, and he so longs for affirmation, that he is not going to care that there is no story, and no characters. He will likely find the ending disappointing, but sometimes discovering words for yourself is enough. I want to give the book to him and no-one else. I think of him, and it is not my childhood that I remember but my nascent trans-self in1997 or 1998. In the late 90s Toronto was home to am amazing festival called Counting Past 2 - it was a trans film festival staged out of the love, grit and toil of a number of phenomenal transpeople. I remember that while some of the films lacked artistic merit, it was so fucking good to see films about trans identities by transpeople. The films said that we existed, that we were creating art, and that our stories mattered. In the films we belonged, and came home. I imagine that My Princess Boy might offer similar solace to this six year old. A decade and a half after the first Counting Past 2, there are amazing trans films by trans people and Toronto's Inside and Out festival annually includes well curated Transprogram, but nothing stands out more for me than that first evening of seeing belonging on a screen. One day there will be better books that speak to princess boys and their gender variant siblings, but until then, this is what we've got, and belonging is a value all of it's own.
Alright, moving from picture books to YA novels, we have Brendan Halpin's Donor Boy. Brendan, what were you doing? The best thing about this book was while searching for a link for it for this post I came across this blog about YA books about donor conception. I love this list and will work my way through them. Donor Boy is the story of a donor who decides to become a dad when the child he helped conceive is orphaned. The donor was still listed on the child's birth certificate and he uses this to take custody over the wishes of the child and her chosen family. A great deal of the book is his angst ridden e-mails to a friend of his about whether he's done the right thing, and whether he's an okay dad. The young person gets lost. We seldom hear about her feelings, and hear oh so much about the donor's. The book is written almost entirely it text messages, e-mails and on-line chat sessions, which is an overly obvious attempt by the author to appeal to young people - his pandering technique is transparent and condescending and does not make up for the clunky writing. Look at the link to the blog of books about donor conception, pick something else and be glad you did.
Just for the record, it's not all piss and vinegar and ranting about faux-children's books around here. Just to prove it, here's some books about gender for children that I love:
- Andrea U'Ren's PugDog is a delightful story about a man and his dog, mistaken identity and assumptions. It's funny and interesting and a damn good story. Unfortunately it is also out of print and the cheapest second hand copies are $40. The Toronto public library does have three copies available though....
- Mem Fox's Tough Boris. Tough Boris is a pirate, and by paring beautiful rich illustrations and simple repetitive text we get a book accessible to young readers and engaging for older ones. Tough Boris is a pirate, and like all pirates is brave and strong and mean, and able to cry when things are sad.
- Bill Martin, Jr. and John Archambault's White Dynamite and the Curly Kid celebrates the rodeo and the love of a kid for hir dad, a rodeo champion. Until the end, the readers is lead to assume that the child is a boy, when she is revealed to be a girl, who's dad supports her dreams of being a rodeo champ.
- Harvey Fierstein's This Sissy Duckling has sparkles on the cover. It's a book where the sissy is first shunned, and then exiled and then exulted. The sissy's homemaking skills save himself, and his family.