In honor of Pride Month, we asked the creators of five middle grade books about centering queer youth in their stories, visibility in literature, and their hopes for the future of queer children’s books.
Michael Leali
What inspired you to center queer youth in your book?
Centering queer youth in The Civil War of Amos Abernathy was, initially, largely for me. My heart still echoes with the memories, thoughts, and struggles of the scared, anxious, gay kid I used to be. I wanted to write a story that would have validated and encouraged a younger version of myself—something that would have given me hope. The heartbreaking thing is, I was so in denial and plagued by homophobia when I was young that I would have been too terrified to even consider reading my own novel. I wish young people no longer feared questioning or coming out as I did, but that’s not the case. There is wider spread acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community now, but as an educator I still see queer students struggling all the time. This story is for them. I want young LGBTQ+ readers to find sanctuary, space to process and mourn, and room to celebrate in my books.
How did you approach representing the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities and experiences through your characters and story?
This book is a celebration of LGBTQ+ community and queer American history, so I was very cognizant about my representation of queer identities and experiences. While my protagonist is a gay, white cisgender boy, his queer historical icon, Albert D.J. Cashier, was a real-life Union Army soldier who today would likely identify as a trans man. Amos’s favorite teacher is a white, cisgender lesbian, and the kids who make up his school’s Gay Straight Alliance span a range of gender identities and sexual orientations.
Because the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities is so beautifully expansive, it’s impossible for one story and one perspective to showcase the full, glorious rainbow. My hope, though, is that this book highlights how our differences connect us—that we are stronger together. As I wrote Amos, and well before I began to write, I read many stories outside my queer experience. I listened to queer friends, family, and acquaintances tell their stories too. My editor and I also brought in a sensitivity reader particularly for trans representation; being gay certainly doesn’t make me an expert on all things within the LGBTQ+ community! I often found this writing process humbling and enlightening, and I am so glad I took time to do the very best job I could representing the queer community I love so very much.
When was the first time you felt seen as a queer person in literature?
I have a very distinct memory. It was winter, and I was in sixth grade. I was sitting at our kitchen table in our apartment, completely engrossed in Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy. I came to the part about the angels Baruch and Balthamos. These two male characters were in love with each other, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the page. I read and reread the passage. Something woke up in me. Something I’d always known but hadn’t had words for. I didn’t understand what it meant to be gay then, or what it meant for my specific identity, but that experience opened a door that allowed me to question my identity. I’ve always held that memory of realization tenderly in my heart.
What changes do you hope to see in LGBTQ+ representation in children’s and YA literature in the future?
I want to see more, more, more! Keep the LGBTQ+ stories coming across genre and format. Let’s see a wider range of representation and intersectionality. And I want more heroes, villains, and everything in between that center queer voices and experiences. The number of LGBTQ+ stories in children’s, middle grade, and YA coming out this year alone are tremendous, and I am beyond excited by all the publishing announcements I’ve seen come through for 2023 already. Despite what legislators and book banners want to believe, the future is gorgeously, gloriously queer.
The Civil War of Amos Abernathy by Michael Leali. HarperCollins, $16.99 June 7 ISBN 978-0-06-311986-4
Mariama J. Lockington
What inspired you to center queer youth in your book?
In the Key of Us started with an image: two Black girls slow dancing together at a summer music camp. I wanted to write a story in which queer Black girls get to be the center of the universe with a movie-like ending—where they get to find adventure in the outdoors, develop friendships and crushes, and connect over music, at the same time [they are] living through trauma and growing pains. As a queer, cisgender Black woman who grew up in mostly white spaces, having this kind of book as a kid would have been life-changing. I wrote this book to add to the small list of books featuring Black, queer girl love stories. I’m also a former band/orchestra geek who believes in the power of music as a universal language. I wanted to put musically talented, driven, adventurous Black girls on the page—but also make it super gay.
How did you approach representing the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities and experiences through your characters and story?
My main characters are very different kinds of cisgender girls. Andi’s gender expression is more masculine of center, and she is annoyed with the rigid uniform requirements of the camp that say she has to wear knee socks vs. a belt because she is “a girl.” Andi is queer, and just knows it—as do her family members who accept and love her as she is. Andi never really “comes out” but definitely experiences bullying and homophobia from peers. Zora, on the other hand, is my character that is somewhere between questioning and queer. She comes to camp on the heels of making a confession to her best friend at home about maybe liking girls, but is caught up in being a version of herself that is perfect and “palatable” to her parents and friends. Both girls have something the other does not, and they end up teaching one another important lessons about self-love, grief, acceptance, and the messiness of growing up. There are also a number of side characters who are on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. For example, I thought it was really important to highlight the policy of camps separating cabins by gender. What happens then if you are nonbinary or trans? Coop is a side character who uses they/she pronouns and stays in the same cabin as Andi and Zora. They identify themselves, but not everyone at the camp understands them and in various scenes we see them navigating this.
When was the first time you felt seen as a queer person in literature?
Oh goodness, I don’t think I can pinpoint an overtly queer character from childhood. I do know that there were many epic friendships in literature that I read into as queer growing up. For example, the friendship between Anne and Diana in Anne of Green Gables or between Sula and Nel in Toni Morrison’s novel Sula. I was in love with these “bosom” friendships. I think though, that when I first read the work of poet Audre Lorde, that’s when I really felt seen in literature as a queer person. Her poetry collection The Black Unicorn is one of my most beloved books.
What changes do you hope to see in LGBTQ+ representation in children’s and YA literature in the future?
More of it. Period. We need more LGBTQIA+ books by authors of color, and especially in the middle grade space. The idea that young people in elementary or middle school are not “old enough” to know themselves or read stories about queer characters is just insulting. Young people are tremendously wise, resilient, and intuitive. They deserve stories that reflect the world they live in and the diversity of experiences in it. I just did a school visit with fifth graders where at least five girls of color had recently come out. They clapped when they realized In the Key of Us featured queer characters—the joy on their faces was infectious. To be seen! It’s all anybody asks for. We need publishers to give queer stories a chance and we need parents and caretakers to fight for representation at schools and at libraries. Books can save lives. They saved mine.
In the Key of Us by Mariama J. Lockington. FSG, $16.99 Apr. 26 ISBN 978-0-374-31410-1
medina
What inspired you to center queer youth in your book?
I had trouble finding a community where I lived, and [because of] the lack of books that reflected my very distinct experiences, my mind never opened to the possibility that I wasn’t alone. I was compelled to center queer youth in my writing because they deserve stories that honor and love them in their totality.
How did you approach representing the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities and experiences through your characters and story?
I created characters who responded to complex issues that young people face in caring and empathetic ways. I wanted my characters to be honest, curious, fun-loving, passionate, and be surrounded by loved ones who made them feel proud and safe to be the most authentic versions of themselves.
When was the first time you felt seen as a queer person in literature?
For me, it’s not about the first time being seen, it’s what it feels like to be seen. What does it feel like to be on the receiving end of unconditional love? And how does being loved transform us? It feels like anything is possible when I am seen. It makes me feel worthy. It gives me purpose. I also know how it feels not to be seen. It is a very isolating experience. It feels like I’m disappearing. But when the opposite occurs, I feel like I am glowing. I talk more about representation in this We Need Diverse Books essay.
What changes do you hope to see in LGBTQ+ representation in children’s and YA literature in the future?
I look forward to a future where there’s a vast amount of LGBTQ+ representation in all levels of the publishing industry leading to more books being published that authentically represent the LGBTQ+ community. I want our experiences to be normalized and celebrated. I also want LGBTQ+ writers to have the opportunity to not only write identity-based stories! We are talented writers. I am also excited to read more stories that center BIPOC, disabled folks, fat folks, trans, nonbinary, marginalized queer identities, and neurodiverse LGBTQ+ youth. I want to read LGBTQ+ books that provoke societal change and personal growth.
The One Who Loves You Most by medina. Levine Querido, $17.99 May 31 ISBN 978-1-64614-090-9
Will Taylor
What inspired you to center queer youth in your book?
Personal experience! I fell into my first big crush when I was 12, and almost immediately those amazing feelings were swept away by the fear of what being a boy who liked boys might mean for my safety and future. This was the early ’90s, and the only images of queer men I’d encountered were negative. I actively rejected any romantic attraction I felt from then on, a habit I kept up into my mid-20s, and I’m still undoing the damage of all that practice today.
I wrote Seabirds to imagine what it would feel like to go back to that moment and choose differently. Partly for myself, for sure, but also as a hopeful, defiant vision of alternatives for any reader feeling trapped the same way I did.
How did you approach representing the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities and experiences through your characters and story?
Seabirds has a narrow focus and only about nine characters, so the range of identities is limited to the two boys who like each other and a pair of queer girls they encounter at a pivotal moment.
I definitely plan to broaden my representation in upcoming books, though! Just for myself I’m queer/gay, but also biromantic, gray ace, and nonbinary, so there’s plenty more experience I would love to see on the page. And there are plenty more moments from elementary through high school I’m dying to revisit now that I have the language to understand what the heck was going on in my head and my heart.
When was the first time you felt seen as a queer person in literature?
It wasn’t until I turned 25 and read the Last Herald Mage trilogy by Mercedes Lackey, which features a gay main character in a lush spells-and-castles fantasy. I remember feeling sad even as I devoured them, because I knew at a core level that if I’d found them earlier, say in high school, my life would have been very different. Fantasy books were my favorite way of escaping the world, but the lack of queer people in them was part of what kept me resisting the truth about myself. I didn’t think I could have both. Seeing a queer boy thriving and honored while wielding magic and going on epic quests was a revelation.
What changes do you hope to see in LGBTQ+ representation in children’s and YA literature in the future?
My main hope is that every single child and young person can easily and freely find books on the shelves that center them. Of course, that will require writers and storytellers from every part of the queer community, in all its lived diversity, to be encouraged, supported, paid, celebrated, and promoted, and publishing has a long way to go to get there. Until then, I hope queer creators and readers keep finding new ways to uplift and share pride in each other, building powerful spaces ourselves instead of waiting for acceptance or permission. I hope the awesome wave of queer kid lit I’m so lucky to get to be a small part of is still just the beginning, and when we look back in five or 10 years, we are all absolutely dazzled over how far we’ve come.
The Language of Seabirds by Will Taylor. Scholastic Press, $17.99 July 19 ISBN 978-1-338-75373-8
Xiran Zhao
What inspired you to center queer youth in your book?
I had a tough time growing up, trying to figure out the many layers of my identity as a queer immigrant POC, so I wanted to write a story where I could put some of that unpacking on the page in hopes of making it easier in some way for the next generation of those like me!
How did you approach representing the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities and experiences through your characters and story?
When writing Zack, I drew heavily upon my struggles with my gender identity and sexuality when I was his age. At the start of the book, he hasn’t figured any of that out yet. He’s still repressing much of himself in an attempt to fit in with the “cool crowd,” and he has a long way to go before he comes to terms with the labels he’s comfortable with. Through the series, I hope to show him gradually accepting himself in order to live fearlessly.
When was the first time you felt seen as a queer person in literature?
I honestly can’t remember my specific first experience with this in traditionally published books, but fanfiction was what gave me the queer rep I wanted before publishing started letting in stories with more diverse identities. I have a theory that this is the whole reason fanfiction exists and is so dominant among women and queer people: traditional media didn’t give us the stories we wanted, so we had to write them ourselves.
What changes do you hope to see in LGBTQ+ representation in children’s and YA literature in the future?
More queer rep in sci-fi and fantasy (especially sci-fi), please! And while publishing has been better at acquiring books by queer authors, I’d like to see those stories get more marketing push. Many people say there aren’t any books with such-and-such rep, but those books are there. Their publishers just aren’t doing enough for them.
Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor by Xiran Zhao. McElderry, $17.99 May 10 ISBN 978-1-66590-070-6
For more articles highlighting authors of queer children’s literature, click here.
