I came across some refreshingly unexpected finds yesterday while flipping through the magazine section of the New York Times on my way to the Sunday crossword on the end page.
I paused to glimpse the results of the weekly poll. This week’s question: If you could only listen to music from one decade, which one would it be? Yes! I’m with the 55% opting for the ’70s. (Just don’t let “Disco Duck” pop up in heavy rotation. Click the link to see a truly frightening video of a song that actually went to #1. Even the best decade can have a clunker.)
I gave my forehead the old “I could have had a V8” assault, as I read the essay about heated car seats. Why hadn’t I thought of writing about that?!
I lamented that the recipe spread featured a photo of toast with butter. Make my own bread? So coronavirus, first lockdown.
Then there was an interview with children’s picture book creator, Mo Willems. As I’m a huge fan, the crossword would have to wait a few minutes longer. Willems, through his humor and his simple illustrations using a limited (i.e., distinct) color palette has delighted young children and their parents (and me!) with pigeon books, beginning with DON’T LET THE PIGEON DRIVE THE BUS!, his Knuffle Bunny books and the endearing Elephant and Piggie series (with titles like I WILL NOT TAKE A NAP! and SHOULD I SHARE MY ICE CREAM?).
I was excited immediately as I read the pulled quote that appeared above a full page photo of a pensively flustered Willems. On creativity: “It’s not a line from A to B. It’s a line from A to strawberry pizza.”
Ah, yes. So Mo!
I dug in, ready to be amused and inspired. Instead, I got a sense that, at least on the day of the interview, Willems was a tad cantankerous. The opening question, a 2020 no-brainer, asked the author-illustrator if he had any insights for parents in supporting children during this time of the pandemic and high-stakes politics. His response: “When parents come up to me and ask, ‘How do you talk to the kid about the pandemic?”...they’re actually asking about a form of control...[Expletive] you! I’m not on your side!”
Hmm.
Willems began another response with, “I’m a little frustrated by that as a question...” Okay, then. Guess it’s not just happenstance that sometimes his characters like Elephant and Pigeon come off as a wee bit cranky.
I don’t like when people I admire—maybe even idolize—come off as grumps. Please, Mo, more on strawberry pizza, less quotes like, “Screw the future.”
But then came the especially refreshing unexpected bit. In answering the question he didn’t like, asking whether his nineteen-year-old son, Trix, still inspired Mo’s work, Willems said, “My kid had a tough time. It took him a while to realize that he was queer, took him a while to realize he was trans...I think what I learned from Trix was more the ability to ask questions and less the need to feel like I had the answers.”
I was first startled with how this fifty-two-year-old father seemed so open about speaking of his queer son and then, within the same sentence, his trans son. Very matter-of-fact. My trans queer son. (On this same day, I came across a tweet on Twitter, linking to an advice column where the columnist blasts a man who thinks his seventeen-year-old son is saying he’s gay just to embarrass Dear Old Dad. Yikes! Hello, bad ’70s.)
In a followup question about his son’s transitioning, Willems said, “One of the great things about queer kids in this culture is that they have to have done the work. They have to do the questioning and say: ‘Who am I? What am I? Where am I in society? What risks am I willing to take or not take to be authentic?’ There are cis and straight people who do that as well, but it’s not an obligation.” It’s a bit utopian, the journey toward understanding one’s identity as an opportunity to skip down a lovely yellow brick road. Really, does anyone crave extra helpings of teen angst? Still, Willems comes off as open, aware and supportive of his son and much of what Trix went through.
Admittedly, I wondered if Trix might be mortified to be mentioned in a widely read magazine, not so much for his father mentioning that Trix is queer and trans, but for talking about him at all. Willems is an example of how far LGBTQ acceptance has come (the columnist-writing father excepted), but teens are still teens, incomprehensible grunts and Oh, Dads a go-to form of familial communication.
Thanks, Mo. (And sorry, Trix. Don’t share your ice cream with Dad. At least, not this week.)
POSTSCRIPT: Trix Willems appears confidently open online. I found an Instagram account where Trix identifies as he/him, a Twitter account and a website, the easy-to-find trixwillems.com where he displays his own talent as an artist and offers his services as a speaker. (“I hope that through my presentations, I can make the idea of transgender people a little less foreign—and leave everyone thinking about how they can become the most authentic and fulfilled version of themselves.”) It bears repeating: Trix is only nineteen. Evolved father, evolved son.
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