In My Paati’s Saris by Jyoti Rajan Gopal (American Desi) and illustrated by art twink (My Rainbow), a Tamil child explores his love for his grandmother and her colorful sari collection. In its starred review, PW called the book a “glad celebration of family, love, and gender-experimental play" and "a buoyant picture book about burgeoning identity and family lineage.” We spoke with both artists about their creative processes, gender and identity, and the shortcomings of South Asian representation in books for children.

What drew you to this story?

twink: My goal in all my art is to show happiness that might not exist in the real world, but could exist. In a lot of Western stories about transness, you see conflict between the family and the public. My Paati’s Saris is a joyful story that doesn’t have that. Outside of Western gender norms, there is an acceptance that comes from Desi [South Asian] families. As I was writing this book, my father told me how his mother would let him dress in a sari when he was little and break traditional gender roles. The acceptance that I experienced was different from acceptance in the West. There was an innate understanding of, “We’ve seen the girlishness and the boyishness existing in you.” Desi families often may accept you privately, but not publicly. My Paati’s Saris has this aspect of public acceptance, of community acceptance.

What do you like best about the picture book genre?

twink: I enjoy getting the chance to tell stories to children. Trans people are often pushed from spaces that have to do with children. When My Rainbow came out, I had a slew of people calling me a “groomer” and a “pedophile.” If I had my perfect way, I would be that grandparent telling stories around the fire at night to kids. Since we don’t live in a society where that is very accessible, this has been a great outlet to tell those stories with art.

What messages do you want your art to communicate?


twink: In one scene the family is doing puja, and a spirit is coming out of the smoke from the incense. It’s a kinnar, which exists all across Southeast Asia, across Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism. It’s the lower half of a bird and the top half of a human. They are traditionally genderless, or can change gender. “Kinnar” has become, in modern-day India, a word that some trans people use for themselves. I enjoy putting in a lot of those little details. In the market scene, I included disability, which is sometimes [discriminated against] as the result of casteism and Hindu nationalism. It’s hard to get it into a book like this, but I wanted to make sure that there was the suggestion of caste-oppressed people existing in this world. The main characters are dark-skinned. Even in Bollywood, we mainly see light-skinned folks. That’s not the reality: you don’t go to India and see a bunch of light-skinned folks walking around. I want to suggest that there isn’t only one reality that exists in this world. This book doesn’t do that perfectly, but I hope that it opens up opportunities for more creators to get their stories seen in children’s books.

What was the book’s inspiration?


Gopal: As a teacher, I wore saris for different activities that we would do at school. On International Day, I brought a bunch of saris to my classroom for the kids to touch. I love stretching it out so they can see how long it actually is because that always amazes them. I noticed one student of mine, a boy, was draping it over himself, smiling and twirling. I wanted to place the little boy at the center because, in South Asian culture, gender fluidity feels more accepted when children are younger. I wanted to celebrate that in this story, and show joy without all of the nonsense that can sometimes start coming into play when kids hit puberty or whenever it is that the community decides you’ve got to be one or the other. That part of our culture is so beautiful, and it’s something we forget.

What are your hopes for readers?


Gopal: I write my stories hoping that, whatever the age of the reader, they find some sort of emotional resonance with the heart of the story. I hope they think about possibilities: what are the possibilities that this story is revealing to me about myself, about the people that I live with?

How do your identities inform your work?


Gopal: I didn’t grow up in India or America—I grew up in Thailand, Indonesia, Myanmar, India and China—yet I am rooted in my Indian culture and I am also American. I’m also very Tamilian: I speak Tamil; my parents speak to me in Tamil; we have a lot of rituals. In my house, we also speak Hindi, English, Indonesian, Chinese. I say “Inshallah” and call my mom “ammi jaan,” because I grew up with Muslim influences. When I entered this world of writing for kids, especially as a Desi writer, I worried about telling a story and it being perceived as not my own. I tell the stories that feel true to me, while acknowledging that there are so many other stories that need to be told because our community is so diverse. It was great at one time to see any Indian book and think, “Yes, there’s this character that looks like me.” But let’s do better: let’s represent the diversity of where Indians live, what they do, what their grownups do, what they speak, what they eat. Everyone thinks about India in a one-dimensional way. It’s up to us, as Desis, to try to open that up. The more of us who write stories that represent all of what we are, the better it is for us.

My Paati’s Saris by Jyoti Rajan Gopal, illus. by Art Twink. Kokila, $18.99 Nov. 8 ISBN 978-0-593-32460-8