GENDER QUEER (Book Review)

By Maia Kobabe

 

(Oni Press, 2022)

 

 

I have the whole banned books brouhaha to thank for leading me to Gender Queer: A Memoir. It’s a graphic novel that may have otherwise escaped my gaydar. I’m the better for reading it.

 

Gender Queer is a quick read that should be widely read. It’s not dramatic in the events that are told. What’s remarkable is the journey the author and illustrator has taken in coming to terms with eir identity. (Finding the “right” pronouns for Maia is its own long, arduous, thoughtful pursuit, leading finally to adopting e, em, eir. I had heretofore been unaware of these pronouns. If you’re rolling your eyes over the pronoun “issue,” all the more reason to read this book. Seek to understand instead of judging what you don’t.)

 

There is a lot of talk about sex talk in the book, but all of it is relevant in Kobabe’s search for discovering eir identity. The exploration is informative but not titillating. It reminded me of all the matter-of-fact sex ed classes I’ve attended as a teacher and a principal, my presence required ostensibly to ensure the students are respectful and to bear witness in case someone discloses an experience that might be construed as abuse or an assault for which follow-up is required. 

 

References to masturbation—how nice to get beyond “you’ll go blind”—include a book ban-triggering drawing of Maia conjuring up an image of men with erections in ancient Greece, one man reading and almost touching the other’s penis. While the drawing is clear, it does not seem intended to arouse. If the banning brood paid any attention to the words below the drawing, their trumped up indignance would lose its luster: 

The more I had to interact with my genitals the less 

likely I was to reach a point of any satisfaction. 

The best fantasy was one that didn’t require any 

physical touch at all.

That’s right, kiddos. Don’t touch your privates! This seems like the kind of message prudish banners would like.

 

While we’re on the sex stuff, there’s talk about buying a vibrator. Maia uses it once. “It’s not that exciting because I don’t really like it.” E gives it to eir sister, with whom e has a trusting, close connection. At the age of twenty-five, Maia goes on a second date with a woman and says, “I’ve never had sex.” Again, sex-repressed book banners should be applauding. The author is giving a voice to the notion that sex isn’t everything; in fact, sometimes it’s nothing. 

 

The other page that book banners specifically object to portrays two graphic novel cells in which the girlfriend performs oral sex on adult Maia or, at least, an appendage attached to Maia: a strap-on penis. Yes, a sex toy, drawn as blandly as possible. Admittedly, the images may give pause. A depiction of the toy while it’s not worn would have diluted any possible objection, but that’s not the choice Kobabe and the publisher made. It’s nothing more erotic than putting a condom over a banana in a high school sex ed class. The author makes clear e doesn’t like it. 

 

Later, e rejoices in realizing, “I never have to date anyone” and “I don’t even have to care about sex.” If the cells depicting Greek men (page 139) or the strap-on (page 171) were postcards available in a high school, the distribution might indeed be shut down, but in the larger context of this graphic novel and the messages provided, any hoopla is overblown. These three cells are an excuse to try to deny access to a book about gender blurring and alternative pronouns.

 

The author’s journey does not seek to go from being born female to representing as male. “I don’t want a beard, and I don’t want my voice to change. I don’t want MORE gendered traits, I want LESS.”[1]

 

I can’t understand how that should be a problem for anyone. There will be a lot of trial and error in terms of friends, family and colleagues using non-gendered pronouns. Kobabe provides many examples of this. People mess up, but they are earnestly and respectfully trying. It reminds me of the adjustment period friends and family go through in coming to terms with someone coming out as queer. The individual’s process took time; likewise, so does the understanding of those around them. I especially appreciated the inclusion of Maia’s aunt, a “lesbian feminist,” who is honest about her struggle to understand:

If you ask me to start using new pronouns for you, 

of course I will. But I’d like you to explain why.

Right now I don’t understand and I’m going

to keep asking until I do.

This particular struggle goes largely unspoken, one in which older gays and lesbians haven’t been able to keep up with an evolution in queer identity wherein there are more options in terms of defining oneself. Online and in a few conversations I’ve had with gay men, the reflex by some is to resist or reject change. Everyone struggles with change. It presents new challenges; it means the person trying/having to change may mess up; it means altering what seemed to be known and established. Sometimes, even in the queer “community,” that doesn’t play out well. I appreciate the aunt’s honesty and her willingness to listen, learn and grow.

 

Maia Kobabe

I learned from reading this book. I have a person’s example, through memoir, to add context to understanding a path to nonbinary identity and to appreciate how this personal search and decision does not come on a whim. I hope young people will access this book, sidestepping any bans to get their hands on it. The book will help those who are struggling to understand their relationship with gender and sexuality. It will help them understand peers who are trying to figure out their own issues. As well, I hope older folks with seemingly fixed minds will be open enough to give Gender Queer a read, allowing the concepts, contexts and personal testimonial simmer long after it is finished.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] This is why the e, em, eir prounouns make particular sense. Not he or she, the h/sh has been lopped off…just e. Not them, just em. Not their, just eir. Any gender connotations are gone.