I once participated in a panel discussion with another teen writer, and they remarked, “I never write anything that doesn’t have some positive social message.” This shocked me. I wondered, “Who am I to preach to children and instruct them in life?” My goal in writing was to accurately and vividly depict the earth, and I hoped that youth ‘main reaction would be visual. They had read my textbooks for the same purpose that individuals do: to escape reality and gain a better understanding of the world.
The concept of social responsibility in literature seems to me to be equivalent to lying. There isn’t much guidance on how to act in the world itself. If a book has spiritual clarity, it is either unmotivated or the truth is being distorted.
But as I was writing Only Content To Be Here, my third book for young adults, I began to experience this nagging sense of…social responsibility. My character, Tara, is the first trans woman at her posh all-girl’s school in DC, and she just wants to be one of the girls. This was the pitch for my first book about a trans woman. Additionally, the book’s first draft had very little politics and was heavily focused on interpersonal drama (another girl feels like Tara was given a priceless scholarship simply because she is trans).
However, as I revised the text in 2023, the news for trans teens got worse and worse: first, two states forbade health transition for teenagers, then ten, fifteen, and twenty. Bans on adolescent sports, restrooms, cultural transition in schools, and even older care were all implemented.
I started writing young adult novels in 2014, and since that time the trend has been away from the “problem novel” or “issues novel” and towards “queer joy”. With the pandemic, that pressure only intensified, and many of the break-out hits of the past four years, both in the adult and children’s markets, have been relentlessly upbeat. It’s not uncommon to read queer YA with no homophobia or transphobia whatsoever, where queerness and genderqueerness are treated as being absolutely ordinary and even unremarkable.
And I’ve adopted that pattern: compared to what we’d see in fact, transphobia and homophobia are typically much less prevalent in the classrooms in my books. Similar to the single-sex school I attended as a child in Washington, DC, Simply Happy To Be Here is held there. However, the school is an Anglican institution as opposed to a Catholic one like the one I attended, as my companion questioned. Why was that? I said this because the Catholic religion is against trans children and I find it difficult to believe that any Catholic girl’s school—at least none that I am comfortable with—would accept a trans woman.
That is the universe in which we still reside. It’s not an accepting earth. Furthermore, when I read about the very accepting parents in these books, I do n’t see much reality. The truth is that parents tend to be very attached to a child’s assigned gender at birth, and there is almost always conflict when that child expresses discomfort with that gender, especially if this discomfort only manifests itself when the child is still in their teenage years.
Furthermore, it has been well established that almost every gay right success results in an increase in the poverty of LGBT teenagers. Why is that, then? It’s because teenagers ‘perceptions of what is standard tend to shift much more quickly than those of their parents. Hundreds of teenagers came out to their parents after gay union was made legal. Many of those families expelled them from the home in retaliation.
I don’t want a teen to read one of my books, think highly of trans teens, tell their parents they’re gay, and then be expelled from their home. I don’t want that kind of change in the world. I wouldn’t write it if I believed that even one teen would suffer as a result of my work.
As the year got worse and worse, I felt some responsibility to try and push back against this “queer joy” narrative. The truth is, the world is very hard for trans kids. Not all of that is due to overt transphobia. Just figuring out if you’re trans is hard. Accessing medical care is hard. The dysphoria you feel while transitioning can be very hard. Transitioning can make romantic prospects much more difficult. I know many trans people who have lost jobs, lost partners, lost their homes, lost their health, lost their safety as a result of transitioning: those losses are almost more common than not, particularly for trans women.
The world doesn’t always understand or accept that we trans people gain so much from transitioning. The world also doesn’t make it simple. I can’t even count how many times as an adult I’ve cried because getting medical care was difficult or because I felt foolish or unsafe. I have often wished I wasn’t trans, but I’ve never really regretted it. The only way I may be happy given that I am transgender was to change.
In this book, having social duty meant, in my opinion, writing about both of those emotions—hating be trans and adoring the fact that I may transition. The tale I set out to tell—about a trans woman learning some social skills that were only tangentially related to being trans—was true! I have no doubt that some transgender women have gone through that! However, there is a second, equally valid part to being transgender. The strange thing about attending trans support groups, according to my lead character Tara, is that half the girls are dealing with extremely mundane issues (I feel embarrassed when I wear girl’s clothes to Target) and the other half are going through the most terrifying situations imaginable (My parents kicked me out of the house, and I’m staying on a friends couch, but I don’t know how to get estrogen). And frequently, individuals have to deal with both! At Target, the woman who is residing on her friend’s couch even feels quite humiliated. Transitioning is much more difficult than flimsy explanations of “queer joy” or “#ItGetsBetter.”
Yes, there is satisfaction, and things do get better, but you also need to be extremely intelligent. Some trans children actually reside in a police state where teachers, therapists, and medical professionals have been assigned by the government to keep an eye on them. If you even make a social, much less medical, change, child protective services may be able to separate you from your parents even if they are willing. The idea that the kindest point you can do for a transgender child is to make them conform to their assigned sex at birth is being formally promoted by prominent lawmakers.
Additionally, you may simply assume that everything will work out when you live in a police position. You must have shrewdness and initiative. You must develop your ability to read individuals. You must develop the ability to decide who to believe. Of course, it isn’t fair, but trans children must simply be that much smarter than their cisgendered friends.
Even though it probably made the book much less appealing to the publishing industry and its target market (which, like the market for most queer YA novels, is primarily made up of teens and young adults who aren’t intending to medically transition), I felt I needed to convey this in my book.
It was a great balancing act to maintain my adherence to both that real and my unique perspective. I didn’t want to write a story about an undocumented trans child living with the police. A transgender girl who falls in love, genuinely enjoys her school, and aspires to be one of the girls was the subject of my writing. In the end, I suppose I wrote about a trans young woman who resides in the police state and primarily really wants to get regular, fall in love, and socialize with her companions. I’m not sure if the outcome will be pleasurable or fulfilling for readers seeking “queer joy,” but I do believe it is morally irresponsible to publish a guide about trans teens in 2024 without providing some insight into the fact of what trans life has become.
Introducing the artist
Naomi Kanakia is the author of three works for young adults. Her essays, short stories, and writing have also been published all over the place. She also has some upcoming ebooks for people. She and her wife and daughter now reside in San Francisco after growing up in Washington, DC.
Get in touch with Naomi Kanakia!
Female of Letters site
@rhkanakia on Instagram
I’m really glad to be here.
The second trans child at an all-girls school must decide whether to keep her head down or follow a trail in this Hey standalone that is ideal for followers of Tobly McSmith and Meredith Russo.
Tara merely desires to be treated equally with another Ainsley Academy students.
In other words, she was evaluated on her merits rather than her transness. However, there is no set path for becoming the primary transgender child at an all-girls institution. She is also thrust into the center of a larger debate about what childhood means and whether the team may even occur when she attempts to join the Sibyls, an old-fashioned Ainsley sisters complete with script names and exclusive privileges.
Being the leader of a movement isn’t something Tara finds interesting. She prefers to read outdated remarks and socialize with the Sibyls who support her, especially Felicity, a fresh friend she believes has the potential to become more. The team’s partner, a well-known alumni, next criticizes her in the media, turning the hiring process into an scene.
Tara has always found solace in the influence of other people’s comments. Will she be able to find her own tone, though, when it comes time to defend herself?
