BABY STEPS IN LEARNING ABOUT TWO-SPIRIT IDENTITY

Since I just learned that November is Picture Book Month, I thought it timely to share this post.

 

 

Initially, this post was going to be a review of a children’s picture book, but then I looked up the publisher on the internet and decided to address both the book and the publisher.

 

I recently spent eight days on the northern part of Vancouver Island, twice as long as expected due to (still unresolved) car difficulties and a series of complications, one piling on another. Anytime we leave home, there is a possibility for adventure. This particular occasion helped me let go of the things I couldn’t control and create new opportunities. I needed to adopt that lemons-to-lemonade mindset. 

 

I spent three days at Alert Bay on Cormorant Island, which is largely an indigenous community, the traditional, unceded territory of the ‘Namgis First Nation. While there, time seemed to slow down, with me being a forty-minute ferry ride away from other distractions. 

 

As a child, I was raised to appreciate First Nations culture, particularly in terms of art. In junior high school in Hamilton, Ontario, I had a dynamic, passionate teacher of Canadian history, Mr. Tomlinson, who didn’t sugarcoat elements of conquest and assimilation regarding European settlement in Canada and the role of Jesuit missionaries. He was writing a book about Tecumseh, a Shawnee chief who was born near present-day Chillicothe, Ohio and died near Chatham, Ontario. It’s significant that Tecumseh, portrayed as a hero, was one of the first historical figures I knew about. Still, my understanding of indigenous history plateaued in junior high. There was little to no mention of Native culture and contributions during my high school years in Texas. 

 

Alert Bay painting
by Emily Carr

I’d first heard about Alert Bay as a child. My parents loved Canadian art, particularly works by Cornelius Krieghoff, the Group of Seven and B.C. artist Emily Carr. I frequently looked through coffee table books featuring paintings by these artists and I recall a couple of Carr’s paintings of totem poles at Alert Bay. It seemed like happenstance that I’d get to stay there, awaiting a prognosis for my car. 

 

My first stop, after a fortifying coffee at the town’s only grocery store (alas, the only café didn’t open until noon each day…NOON?!) was to the U’mista Cultural Centre. After viewing First Nations art, I took a long time browsing the gift shop, scanning the bookshelves, searching for anything on two-spirit identity. I found nothing other than a chapter called, “All My Queer Relations: Language, Culture, and Two-Spirit Identity” in the book, Indigenous Writes: A Guide to First Nations, Métis & Inuit Issues in Canada (HighWater Press, 2016), edited by Chelsea Vowel. I didn’t buy it. I was most interested in finding a picture book with a two-spirit character, something to introduce young people to diversity within indigenous populations and, ideally, to help a child see themselves identified and validated in literature.

 

After I finally asked for help with my search, a staff member and the gift shop manager joined in the hunt. Nothing came up.

 

Later, I Googled and still didn’t come up with much, but I managed to get my hands on 47,000 Beads, a 2017 picture book written by Koja Adeyoha and Angel Adeyoha and illustrated by Holly McGillis, published by Flamingo Rampant.   

 

As a children’s book, it disappoints. It’s one of those teacherly books, literary tofu: good for you but not so tasty. 47,000 Beads commits a major faux pas in the genre as the story—to the extent there is one—abandons the child, Peyton’s, point of view after the first few pages and does not have her actively involved in solving the problem (which is that she doesn’t want to jingle dance and wear a dress at a pow wow). It’s Auntie Eyota, other supportive relatives and an adult friend identified as L (they; there’s no use of a possessive pronoun) who each contribute beaded works to create a new regalia, an outfit that includes a shirt, pants, harness and apron, something I presume represents an in-between type of ceremonial attire. It is L—“a new teacher for you”—who gives Peyton the regalia. L says, “I have…stories to tell you. About people from all the nations who carry two spirits inside of them.” As an old-school gay man, I’m not sure about the continuing feminine pronoun used for Peyton as the story wraps, saying Peyton dances “as herself, not as a boy or as a girl, but as Peyton in her 47,000 beads.” I’m guessing the authors are indicating that the young character remains, for the time being, a female exploring what it is to be genderqueer and/or two-spirit.

 

I wasn’t going to bother with writing about the book since it didn’t impress me or even educate me. (In fact, I’m more confused about the meaning of two-spirit and the degree to which it is an accepted term by First Nations people or another example of replacing existing indigenous terms for an English one.) I have more to learn.

 

The book is worth noting, however, for two reasons: (1) It highlights a need for more diverse books, in this case for children, about being queer and indigenous; and (2) It sheds light on a small press, Flamingo Rampant, that is interested in #ownvoices children’s books. 

 

This nascent publisher has sixteen books in the marketplace thus far and will hopefully learn as it grows. It’s disappointing that there isn’t even a sentence to identify the authors and the illustrator of 47,000 Beads. (They each make a dedication though.) I give points to the publisher for a note in the fine print about copyright: 

 

“All literary and artistic rights…are reserved. 

But remember, you have the right to be 

safe, strong, free, and utterly fabulous in 

whatever gender(s) you choose. Don’t let 

anyone tell you otherwise. This is a secret 

message from a happy, well-loved adult 

trans person. You’re wonderful, and there 

are plenty of people in the world who will 

love you just as you are. Also, hi Jacinto 

and Caetano!”

 

Okay, more than points…Bravo!

 

Flamingo Rampant’s “About” page on its website states that its books touch on “racial justice, disability pride, kids taking action, and most of all loving, positive LGBT2Q+ families and communities.” Its submission guidelines also distinguish it from other publishers as it is interested in diverse creators with celebratory stories that move beyond victimization. 

 

“We don’t publish books that have primary 

narratives about bullying, ostracization, 

harassment or violence. If your book is 

about a kid who is made to feel like their 

identity or family is a problem, that’s not 

going to be a book that works for us.” 

 

The page further states: 

 

“We have a strong value around 

#ownvoices work…While we always 

appreciate the work of allies, the 

number of books ABOUT LGBT2Q 

kids/families; Black, Indigenous, 

and kids/families of color and 

disabled kids has increased 

while the number of writers who live 

in those identities is still flatlined.” 

 

Whether you’re a writer, illustrator, reader or a person who simply identifies as a person with some element of diversity, the entire guidelines are worth a look. As well if you know of an aspiring, talented picture book writer or illustrator who identifies as LGBTQ, PIPOC or disabled, direct them to the publisher’s website. More of us need to be published.