Gender Queer

I picked this book up at my LBS over my lunch break. It's been on my TBR for a while but each time there is another wave of controversy, I feel a need to go purchase it and support the author and learn about their experiences. I have a lot to think about after reading this, and I'm going to write out just a little bit of that here and I might develop some of these thoughts for a posting elsewhere. For context, I am a cisgender white male who identifies as bi, though for the past 10 or so years identified as “exclusively” gay.

The book is clearly a work of writing-as-processing/therapy, and Maia uses it to explore eir growth and experience navigating gender and sexuality. Something that I really appreciated about how E described eir “coming out journey” (pg 98). I really loved how this graphic communicated the evolution of our sense of self, our understanding of that sense, and the tremendous confusion that permeates our minds as we develop over our lifespans. I find the cloud backdrop, which E has labeled “clouds of background gender confusion” a nice addition too. I think a process of writing out one's journey like this would be therapeutic. I also really like how E has “ended” the graphic with an arrow – noting (by my interpretation, at least) that this isn't a process that ends.

In this vein, I like that the memoir deals so much with the uncertainty that lives with us over things that are not concrete (and so few things are). There are several places in the work where the use of labels really stands out – every little bit of the author is catalogued and categorized, from zodiac, (Hogwarts) house, Myers-Briggs, kinks, etc. There is certainly a sense of power in being able to identify something about yourself, ascribe a word to a conceptual thing that holds meaning for you, and be able to find community around “common” language. Words make things easier to understand, sometimes easier to communicate (although very much not always, as Maia's interaction with eir aunt demonstrates on page 198). Personally, I struggle a little bit with our want to make concrete things that are not concrete, especially when those things live in a context of uncertainty and ever-changingness. At what level of specificity do labels serve more to alienate than to communicate a shared experience? Where does a label stop being an empowering shorthand for communicating identities and start informing a person's behavior? In essence, does the desire to “fit” into a label create some of the exact stress that Maia navigates working eir coming out and life process? I'm not sure there's an answer, but I think it's worth thinking about personally as we explore how we assign concrete words to fluid concepts when we communicate things about ourselves to others.

I really liked reading this. There were some parts that gave me a pause (is the scale art on pg. 124 really the clearest metaphor – doesn't it sort of reinforce a gender binary?), but overall, I can see this book being a critical entryway for many different kinds of people, and that is often helpful. Yes, it is certainly a manifestation of writing as therapy, and there are some things to think about when reading something like this, but in my mind that comes with the territory.

Speaking of the territory – I found myself thinking a lot about the memoir as a format, reading this. In an extra at the back of the book, Maia writes, “Who wants to read a memoir by someone not yet 30?” I heard a similar thought when I told someone I was going to read this. I don't think a memoir has anything to do with age, I think it has to do with the navigation of a complex thing or idea and charting the process by which the person navigated it – warts and all. Warts most importantly. These are a way for us to relate to one another, see another person's process, and understand the experiences described and build empathy. For the memoirist, the act of writing is intensely therapeutic, and trying to balance authenticity, clarity, sensitivity, and a sense of responsibility for those who may read the work is a significant task. I imagine that those weights were especially significant given how deeply personal this work was, and I think we should be grateful to Maia for sharing, even if there are some areas of imperfection. No one is perfect, and a memoir that reflects perfection is not likely to be worth the paper it is printed on.

Life is deeply uncertain, and navigating uncertainty means we have to be willing to take risks and make mistakes and redress them where and when we can. If we could become more comfortable with uncertainty and with accepting concepts as fluid, I think all of us would be safer, happier, and more able to seek help when we need it.