The Many Stories of LGBTQ+ Youth by Shelly Shaffer

This week the guest post is from Shelly Shaffer. Shelly is not only a colleague and one of my writing partners, is a kind and generous person. When we are discussing books, a writing project, or a presentation, Shelly is great at find a grounding concept that reminds us that our students and the people we work with need our understanding and empathy. Even as we might be trying to persuade preservice teachers, inservice teachers, or our colleagues to "see it" our way she can subtly remind us stay open to new ideas.

Much of Shelly's research focuses on how school shootings are portrayed in YA literature. That interest lead to several blog posts on Dr. Bickmore's YA Wednesday and, eventually, to a collaboration with Gretchen Rumohr and myself that produced a book about discussing gun violence in the ELA classroom-Contending with Gun Violence in the English Language Classroom.  Collectively, we are proud of the book; as an individual, I know that I am a better person, colleague, and a scholar because of my association with Gretchen and Shelly. This time Shelly has drifted away from guns and schools and takes on a different, but also important topic for teachers and their students. 

The Many Stories of LGBTQ+ Youth 

​Education has come a long way since I first started my teaching career in 2002. I remember during my second year of teaching, in a very conservative district in the Phoenix metropolitan area, being reprimanded by my principal because I had shared part of my life with my students. At the time, I lived with my boyfriend (now husband) and our kids, and I’m sure I shared an innocent anecdote about my family with students in the course of my teaching; as a result, a parent complained that I was living with a man outside of marriage. Rather than the principal telling the parent that my living situation didn’t impact my teaching, the principal told me that if I didn’t keep my personal live quiet, it might end up cutting my career short in that district. I was terrified. I stopped mentioning my family in class, and when I finally married this man in 2005, I breathed a sigh of relief because my wedding ring eliminated all the questions and worry. 

It was in the context of this district (and principal) that I learned to incorporate young adult literature and reading workshop, that I learned to close my classroom door and quietly defy the principal and parents who objected to teaching taboo topics, and that I finally learned to find my own voice and teach beyond fear. Even so, I never dared to teach a whole class LGBTQ+ book in that setting. The one time I taught Stotan by Chris Crutcher as a whole class read, I had several parents complain about the language, and I had to provide an alternate book to a few students. Still, I included books on my classroom library shelf that spoke to students, books that provides “windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors” (Bishop, 1990) and matched students with books based on their interests, needs, and experiences.  

One of first books I read with LGBTQ+ characters was Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan (2010).  I know—2010 is pretty late to the party, but being in the district (and city) I was in made it difficult to find books that represented queer experiences. I picked up this book because I knew John Green’s  name and work, but I didn’t know David Levithan. I was surprised and thrilled with Will Grayson, Will Grayson. a book that tells the story of two boys named Will Grayson whose paths cross, and the authors ultimately take readers into their lives of the characters (Will 1, Will 2, Tiny, Jane, Maura) as they laugh, cry, and love. In 2010, the United States was just beginning to change laws about gay marriage and gay rights, and Arizona was even further behind.  Queer students in my classroom had NO representation, and it was this book that began my journey toward finding more books to represent the lives and experiences LGBTQ+ students in my classroom. 

About the same time, I attended my first NCTE annual convention in Chicago. I saw signs for gender neutral restrooms at the conference-this first time I had ever seen this beyond Ally McBeal in the 1990’s, and I was so proud. I knew then that NCTE was my new professional home. I knew that NCTE cared about representation of all groups, about showing respect for all peoples. By 2011, I had already joined the PhD program at Arizona State University, and had started taking courses with Dr. Django Paris, a leader in the field of culturally sustaining pedagogy. So, I knew the existence of those labeled bathrooms was a testament that this organization cared—that every voice counted—and that we needed to listen.

Since then, I have learned a lot more about teaching, about young adult literature, and about the LGBTQ+ community. I have learned from listening to authors like Bill Konigsberg, who speaks up for LGBTQ+ youth and writes about their stories; I have learned by reading books that tell fictional and true stories of LGBTQ+ youth; I have learned firsthand, as I parent of my own gay son, and as I get to know new family members in Washington who identify as queer. 

​This blog post has taken many twists and turns as I’ve worked on it the past several weeks. I began thinking about a possible blog topic as I received feedback on a chapter I had been writing. The chapter focused on a story about a young man in the story committed suicide because he was afraid to come out to his family and friends. The critique I received on the chapter focused on telling a different story about LGBTQ+ experiences—about helping LGBTQ+ youth to see a more hopeful story for their lives. And, I began to wonder if I was, indeed, focusing on telling only one narrative. 

I have been working on a writing project that involves many of the perspectives Adiche (2009). Adiche and the project suggests that we listen to and allow ourselves to tell more than one story. Critical Race Theory (DeCuir and Dixson, 2004; Sleeter, 2017) includes a key tenet focused on counter-stories. Critical Race Theorists (Hughes-Hassell, Barkley, & Koehler, 2009; DeCuir and Dixson, 2004; Sleeter, 2017 ) claim that the stories of African Americans have been silenced by the dominant narrative. Cynthia Leitich Smith (2005) shares how her editors wouldn’t accept her book because her Native American characters lived in the suburbs. Adiche (2009) tells the audience that her editor criticized her novel because it wasn’t “African” enough. All of these examples show the power that telling counter-stories gives to marginalized communities, and diverse youth (i.e. African American, LatinX, Native American, LGBTQ+, among so many other races, ethnicities, and identities) who are able to tell their stories, give voice to the varieties of lives that peoples in their communities. Just as we cannot only know one story about what it was like to live in Nigeria (Adiche’s story), we also cannot only know one story about the lives of diverse groups within the United States. 

When I focused on the dominant story in regard to LGBTQ+ youth—the story of suicide in my recent project, one of my colleagues on the project pushed me to consider telling another story—one that doesn’t end in death, but ends in hope. He pushed me to consider the fact that queer youth hear the story of suicide over and over again—to the point that they roll their eyes when it’s brought up in school. I started to think about how to change the script. LGBTQ+ suicides do occur at high rates, but youth shouldn’t only hear that story when reading about the queer community. The stories of LGBTQ+ youth should not be a single story. Many adolescents in secondary classrooms across the United States may not have read (or studied) a book that included queer main characters. When providing literature options that represent the myriad experiences of LGBTQ+ youth in the United States, it is our responsibility to ensure that stories featuring LGBTQ+ character feature a vast array of experiences that represent the queer experience, and not only the single story of suicide.  

So, in this blog post, I plan to focus on sharing a few YA novels that share stories of hope for LGBTQ+ youth. Some of the books include difficult struggles with queer identity, but will ultimately show LGBTQ+ youth that happiness is possible and perseverance will get them through many of the struggles. Others show an ideal, where the queer youth are loved and accepted by their families and friends. The field of YA literature now features more novels than ever before that represent the queer experience, and provide a backdrop for teachers, teacher educators, and YA readers to consider the LGBTQ+ community through a much larger lens. 

To begin, David Levithan’s novel Boy Meets Boy is a classic. Boy Meets Boy takes readers into a utopian, small town setting where LGBTQ+ youth are accepted for their identities at home and school. The main character, Paul, goes to a school where the star quarterback and homecoming queen is a trans character named Infinite Darlene, where the gay-straight aliiance helps straight kids learn to dance, and where the cheerleaders ride Harleys. Paul’s romantic life takes on Vegas-like odds (12-1 against winning him back) when he blows it with his new boyfriend. This book normalizes relationships

​If this book was used in class (either as a book club, whole class reading, or independent reading), I would suggest focusing on the way this book portrays an ideal—a community where LGBTQ+ youth are completely accepted at school and home. Teachers could ask students who read this book to consider ways their own community could be improved to more closely resemble that portrayed in the book. Students could contemplate Levithan’s purpose in creating such a setting in this book, and the impact it might have on LGBTQ+ and non-LGBTQ+ readers alike. Levithan normalizes the experiences of his LGBTQ+ characters; this is important for readers who may not be familiar with this community, and the depictions of the characters make readers fall in love with each of them. I love all of Levithan’s books, and would recommend any of them to readers interested in learning more about LGBTQ+ youth experiences. 

History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera tells the love story of Griff and Theo. In alternating chapters from the past and the present, Griff shares the memories he has of Theo, who has recently died in a tragic accident. This book is simply a love story. After the devastating loss of Theo, Griff struggles with seeing a future for himself; he has always envisioned Theo as his end game. This book illustrates the beauty (and innocence) of first love. With each memory Griff shares, readers step into Griff’s heart and mind. We see why he loved Theo so much, and how hurt he is by what happened in their relationship and by Theo’s death. I would suggest this book to all readers, but especially as a counter-story for LGBTQ+ readers (NOTE: I recently suggested this book to my 17 year old son, Brandon). All of the adults in the story are accepting of Griff, Theo, and other LGBTQ+ characters. For example, when Theo and Griff come out to their parents, it’s at Theo’s sister’s birthday party. All four parents gather around the boys exchanging hugs and telling the boys how much they love them. This is the reaction all queer youth probably dream of, but that not all receive. For those that haven’t come out to their parents, this story might provide some hope; however, for those who receive a less positive reaction, this scene in History is All You Left Me might feel very fictional. Though it does provide a counter-story to the many negative stories told about coming out, readers must remember that this is but one voice—and one possible experience—for LGBTQ+ youth. 

Anger is a Gift by Mark Ochiro tells the tragic and hopeful story of a group of teens who live in Oakland, California. This book has a diverse cast of characters, beginning with the protagonist Moss Jeffries, who is a gay, Black youth who loves his friends, his mom, and his new boyfriend, Javier. Moss’s friend Bits uses they/them pronouns, and Ochiro’s writing weaves the diverse cast of characters into the story in a normalizing way. For readers who are unfamiliar, or unexposed, to gender neutral pronouns, this book pushes them to consider this. All of the characters in the story are treated with respect in regard to their LGBTQ+ identities by their friends and families even though their status as low SES students living in a tough neighborhood does impact the plot of the story. After Javier is killed in a shooting at the school, Moss has to make a decision about whether he will protest the shooting—taking the footsteps vacated by his deceased father in the process. This book shows that LGBTQ+ characters in a high school setting are not one-dimensional. Ochiro’s story is deep and thought-provoking, and hopeful. 

Bill Konigsberg’s writes a masterpiece with his newest book The Bridge which takes a look at depression as two teen characters meet on a bridge, contemplating jumping. The teen characters, Aaron and Tillie. Each character has their own personal demons, from Aaron’s gay identity, struggling romantic life to Tillie’s adoptive status and bullying experiences. Both characters are struggling with depression when they meet on the bridge that day. The story has four possible outcomes: Tillie jumps, Aaron jumps, both jump, or neither jump. By taking readers into such a gritty experience with depression and suicide, Konigsberg shares a story of hope. This book shows that suicide doesn’t have to be the only route for teens facing depression. I read everything Konigsberg writes. He’s a master at telling a story, and his books help LGTBQ+ youth to imagine themselves in situations where they can express their identities and be themselves. 

There are so many more LGBTQ+ books with hopeful messages for teens to read that will show that being queer doesn’t have just one story, but many. In this post, I have shared some of my favorites and some of my favorite authors. I think that the danger of telling the single story of suicide is real, but we do own it to the thousands of teens that die from suicide each year to tell it. But, we do need to share with our students these other stories that counter that one. These stories that I shared above show LGBTQ+ youth in families that accept them, in relationships that are loving, and with comfort in their own identities. These are the messages that many youth need.

References
Adiche, C. N. (2009). The danger of a single story. Retrieved from (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg).
Bishop, R.S. (1990), “Mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors”, Perspectives, Vol. 1 No. 3, 1990, pp. Ix-xi.
DeCuir, J.T. and Dixson, A.D. (2004). So when it comes out, they aren’t that surprised that it is there’: Using critical race theory as a tool for analysis of race and racism in education. Educational Researcher, 33(5), 26-31.
Sleeter, C.E. (2017),. Critical race theory and the whiteness of teacher education. Urban Education, 52(2), 155-169.
Smith, C. L. (2005). Spotlight On CLA social justice workshop: Social justice in Native American literature for youth. Journal of Children's Literature, 31(1), 7-9.