Who Belongs on the Bookshelf: LGBTQ Representations in Children’s Literature
CP Pototsky
I was never taught about people like me through the books I read as a child. It seemed as though every character was straight, gender binary, able-bodied, and normative. As a result, I was unable to imagine the possibilities for my own identity. For youth around the country, this is both a political and social issue. In the current political climate of the U.S., many children – regardless of their gender or sexuality, race or ability status – do not feel properly represented by the books they are reading. Though queer children’s literature has increased since I was in elementary school, it lacks complete representation of the queer community and erases intersectional identities, thereby limiting student growth. Students cannot learn about themselves, those around them, or those they will someday meet if the literature they read does not change.
The stories children read are foundational to shaping their understanding of the world. However, when children’s literature predominantly focuses on heterosexual relationships and largely excludes authentic representations of LGBTQ+ identities, it sends a powerful message to children about who belongs and who does not. Despite progress in LGBTQ+ representation, books with queer themes often fail to challenge intersecting forms of oppression, leaving many young readers feeling isolated and unseen. When books do not include accurate and representational depictions of the queer community, readers are harmed. In children’s literature, LGBTQ+ identities are both under-represented and under-representative, despite improvements over time that include more intersectional identities. Heteronormative and homonormative narratives prohibit young children from imagining the possibilities of their identities and liberating themselves, which would then allow them to have expansive futures where queer identities are not just accepted but celebrated.
Many children’s book authors fail to include characters who simultaneously uphold multiple marginalized identities. In her intersectional analysis of homonormativity in queer-themed picture books, Jasmine Lester, an activist and alumna of Arizona State University, explains, “…children’s books with queer themes fail to challenge interlocking forms of oppression,” further reinforcing heteronormativity (246). As a result, children’s books with queer themes, though they may be aiming toward digestibility for a young audience, seldom consider intersectionality within their plots. They predominantly focus on white, able-bodied, middle-class characters. The consequences of this shortcoming tend to perpetuate systems of oppression rather than to dismantle them and exclude readers who do not uphold these same identities.
Similarly, many characters depicted in queer children’s books are not marginalized beyond their gender or sexuality, leaving gaps in the knowledge youth can attain from LGBTQ stories. Enoch Leung and Julia Adams-Whittaker, who both work in the Department of Educational and Counseling Psychology at McGill University, discuss this in their study on LGBTQ picture books in elementary education. These scholars note that “Although authors of these books have diversified their characters in terms of sexuality and gender identity/expression, research has found an underrepresentation of marginalized populations within the LGBTQ community” (Leung and Adams-Whittaker). This gap contributes to narrow and incomplete narratives of queerness that center around more privileged identities (i.e. white, able-bodied, cisgender people). It erases the lived experiences of those who face multiple forms of oppression and therefore reinforces societal expectations about how the queer experience should look. In turn, children will develop narrowminded perspectives on the LGBTQ community, and if they do not fit the white, able-bodied, cisgender lifestyle, they may grapple with their own identities.
Unfortunately, progress regarding intersectionality has been slow to emerge. Alicia Vaandering, Amanda Melilli, and James W. Rosenzweig are librarians at University of Rhode Island, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and Eastern Washington University, respectively. In their research study on the evolution of LGBTQIA+ representation in picture books, they collected two subsamples of queer picture books from slightly different recent time periods. They provide statistics comparing two subsamples:
[Compared to race/LGBTQIA+ intersectionality,] Progress has been much less pronounced in the intersectional representation of disabled LGBTQIA+ characters. The early subsample contained no examples of such intersectionality, and only 6% of the books in the later subsample depict disability/LGBTQIA+ intersectionality in at least one character. (Vaandering et al. 256)
While there has been progress regarding LGBTQ+ representation in children’s books, there are also ongoing limitations. Particularly when identities such as ability status, gender, and sexuality are simultaneously considered, characters tend to hold a position of power regarding at least one area (ie. they will likely be either able-bodied, cisgender, or straight). Characters who hold multiple marginalized identities within these categories remain invisible in many children’s books. As a result, hierarchies are reinforced and those with privilege are portrayed more frequently than those without it. Similarly, only certain “normalized” identities are depicted in children’s literature, which subconsciously conveys a message that only those identities are worth being included. This prohibits children from seeing and normalizing non-normative experiences, and it upholds systems of inequality in their lives that they may then perpetuate.
Often, these systems of power and inequality neglect transgender people, as many children’s literature authors keep transgender characters out of their books. Consequently, the authors fail to challenge systems of oppression by normalizing certain transgender experiences more than others. In his study exploring how transgender children are represented in picturebooks, Adam Crawley, an Associate Teaching Professor in Literacy Studies in the School of Education at the University of Colorado-Boulder, notes, “diverse representations of transgender characters are limited with regard to race, social class, gender identity, and gender performance… the majority of picture books perpetuate single-story representations (qtd. in Adichie 2009) and binary performances of gender (qtd. in Jaggar 2014)” (“Be Who You Are” 37). Single-story representations and binary performances of gender, even when they include nonbinary or transgender characters, encourage heteronormative ideas about gender and how it should be presented in society. When books rely on simplified, stereotypical portrayals of gender, young readers are not exposed to intersectional experiences and will not have opportunities to reflect fully on the ways in which LGBTQ characters experience the world. This reinforces limited cultural frameworks and reproduces social hierarchies across communities, therefore causing some children to never see themselves or their potential selves accurately depicted in books.
Because children’s literature often does not include authentic LGBTQ experiences, young audiences may develop heteronormative and binary understandings of the world. Regarding characters’ gender and sexuality, Crawley addresses various types of representation in another study on LGB+ individuals in picturebook biographies. He explains, “While explicit representations clearly share such information, implicit and excluded representations deny readers such information and may perpetuate notions that most, if not all, prominent individuals are heterosexual” (“Who’s Out? Who’s In?” 147). Books that hide or diminish queer identities encourage the reinforcement of the same for children today. LGBTQ students, for example, may feel as though they should conceal their own identities. Additionally, both queer and non-queer voices may feel that they cannot talk about LGBTQ people inside and/or outside of the classroom. This then perpetuates queer erasure, limiting the potential for students to understand LGBTQ experiences.
There are multiple ways in which LGBTQ identities are underrepresented in queer literature. Thomas Crisp, Roberta Price Gardner, and Matheus Almeida, who are all scholars at Georgia State University, provide an example of this in their critical content analysis of LGBTQ identities in Orbis Pictus award books: “Today, the invisibility of same sex desire in youth literature remains particularly evident in terms of bisexuality (qtd. in Cart and Jenkins 2006) and other non-normative identities that threaten to destabilize the homosexual/heterosexual binary” (Crisp et al. 254). This invisibility erases and invalidates non-normative identities, especially those that do not neatly fit into an idealistic binary. Even literature that is meant to represent the LGBTQ community may include some identities but not others. This can harm queer students who need to feel represented and those who are learning about the queer community for the first time as they cannot accurately imagine all possibilities.
Often, books perpetuate stereotypes and binaries about the LGBTQ community and transgender people in particular. While examining the results of her study, Lester acknowledges that “Many of the children’s books, though attempting to promote the acceptance of nonnormative gender presentations, do more to marginalize queer gender presentations than affirm them, and uphold rather than challenge heteronormative discourse on gender and sexual orientation” (248). Even books that include transgender characters, typically fail to include nonbinary transgender people, hence conveying the message that gender non-conformity is too complicated and abnormal to discuss. These representations are also harmful because they encourage narratives that gender binary identities are normal, and binary transgender characters are more worthy of being included than nonbinary characters. When transgender and non-binary students do not see themselves in the books they’re reading, they will likely notice their identities being undermined and devalued, making it more difficult for gender non-conforming students to express themselves authentically.
It is not enough, however, to simply include transgender and nonbinary identities; they must be involved characters; their roles must be present and necessary. In his work on the representation of LGBTQ characters and themes in picture books available in the United States between 1972-2018, Hubert Izienicki, an Associate Professor of Sociology in the Department of Behavioral Sciences at Purdue University, Northwest, argues that “While the LGBTQ picture books included many gay and lesbian people, few of them were featured as main protagonists” (1098). The exclusion of queer characters as protagonists takes away from the value that young readers associate with them. By predominantly including straight and cisgender main characters, authors and publishers fail to challenge the status quo and normalize seemingly non-normative identities. Additionally, transgender and non-binary students may feel as though their roles in society are diminished or less meaningful than those of their cisgender counterparts. Ultimately, this lack of representation may lead LGBTQ audiences to struggle expressing themselves because they do not believe they can be the main characters—the leaders, hard workers, or changemakers—within their own lives.
To address issues of representation, there needs to be discussion about the publishing industry itself. This can ensure that the books that end up in children’s hands include full, accurate depictions of queer people—both as individuals who exist in a changing world and as individuals who are changing the world. Students are incredibly impacted by the amount of queer representation there is in classroom literature, which is highly determined by what publishers choose to publish. Crawley argues that “Research demonstrates the publishing industry is predominantly heterosexual (qtd. in Lee & Low 2016)” which, not only is reflected in educational texts, but also within texts that are available to the broader society (“Who’s Out? Who’s In?” 133). As a result, heteronormativity is reinforced in schools as books without LGBTQ representation are most frequently published. This is evident of the power structures in place that influence which stories are told, how they are told, and who tells them. Almost always, those in power benefit from the ability to tell stories that belong to queer voices, or they can choose to ignore those stories completely. They set the status quo; hence students are exposed to heteronormative stories and will have limited understandings of the LGBTQ community. LGBTQ students may also view themselves in a heteronormative light, causing them to believe their lives must mirror those of cisgender and/or heterosexual people who have very different experiences than their own. Students whose lives look different from cis-het people may feel that they are doing something wrong, and they may try to conceal their most authentic selves.
The need for students to hide their marginalized identities becomes even more prevalent when many books with queer representations are also being taken off the bookshelf. The question of whose responsibility it is to find solutions to this problem is all the more apparent. Jon M. Wargo, an associate professor at the University of Michigan, Kyle Smith a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Michigan, and Kierstin Giunco, a Ph.D. candidate at Boston College discuss the role of educators in a culture where the current political climate threatens queer literature’s existence in their study entitled, “‘That’s a Third Rail Issue’ Using LGBTQ+ Children’s Literature as Backup to Counter Pushback.” They emphasize that “As books continue to be challenged and banned, and LGBTQ+ lives remain threatened by legislation that otherwise outlaws their existence, [educators must remain steadfast in] teaching children’s and young adult literature that represents not only the world we live in but also the one we want to build: a world of more just futures” (Wargo et al. 734). The fight for publishing and then teaching queer literature is ongoing and highly political; however, if we do not keep publishing and teaching LGBTQ children’s literature, there will be even less representation. Books that are not allowed in the classroom may communicate to students that their identities are also not apparent in the classroom.
Normative representations of characters who submit to stereotypical, idealistic expectations of their identities are ever popular and most likely to be published. For example, Lester discusses how LGBTQ picturebooks reinforce heteronormativity “through the nearly exclusive celebration of homonormative, nonthreatening LGBTQ characters that conform to expected gender roles, have a vested interest in parenting, and are White and upper middle class” (Lester 244). Even when “diverse” characters are included in children’s literature, they are expected to perform as the dominant culture does. This hypervisibility of normative characters makes “more queer” characters invisible, further perpetuating ways in which institutions reinforce heteronormativity. When the only depictions of queer people in children’s literature are those that adhere to societal expectations, readers are exposed to inauthentic queer experiences. This misrepresents the LGBTQ community, perpetuates stereotypes to young audiences, and pressures queer people to be normative.
Some of the most frequent and harmful depictions of the LGBTQ community in children’s literature are those that portray LGBTQ people in a negative light. Leung and Adams-Whittaker claim that when the LGBTQ community is represented in class material, there are negative connotations, such as anxiety and depression within queer characters. They emphasize a need for “both conflict-based and positive empowerment-based stories” so that LGBTQ people are not seen as unequal deviants full of “LGBTQ-related problems,” but rather average people who happen to be queer (Leung and Adams-Whittaker). Storytelling around the LGBTQ community requires including stories that do not solely center around trauma, conflict, and oppression; they should also include queer joy to ensure that discourse around queer people is not exclusively about hardship. Stories that exclusively focus on queer struggles reinforce narratives about suffering which cater to a heteronormative audience and the beliefs they hold about the LGBTQ community and may communicate to young queer audiences that they should be struggling too.
Children need to see themselves and their peers accurately depicted in literature, particularly in a positive light. These representations are expressed through metaphorical windows and mirrors. Wargo et al. explain metaphorical windows and mirrors, saying, “As mirrors, LGBTQ+ children’s literature provides spaces for queer voices and reinforces self-worth. As windows, these texts may expose children to more inclusive and accurate accounts of history, promote acceptance, and help these young readers have a more accurate understanding of LGBTQ+ communities” (723). Children should be exposed to both presentations of self and others in the books they read. Unfortunately, when there is a lack of LGBTQ children’s literature and an even greater lack of nuanced LGBTQ children’s literature, there is limited potential for mirrors and windows to become accessible. When children do not have opportunities to see themselves or others in literature, their identities and sense of self are invalidated.
The impact of mirrors on students plays a particularly paramount role in their education and sense of self. For example, Leung and Adams-Whittaker explain that “For LGBTQ students, however, if they do not see themselves (mirror) in class material, such as picture books, they may develop a sense of isolation and feel that there is something wrong with them (Snapp et al., 2015).” Children whose identities are not affirmed by fictional texts may not be able to imagine themselves accomplishing their goals because the characters with the greatest achievements in the books they read do not represent queer youth. In other contexts, this may carry through a child’s life, and they may not see themself as someone capable of succeeding.
Windows are as important not only because they expose readers to experiences outside of their own, but also because they can metaphorically “open” or turn into sliding glass doors, allowing children to enter entirely new worlds. In their study, “Pinkwashing Picturebooks: Reading Homonational Heroes Through Contemporary US LGBTQ + Biographies,” Jon Wargo and James Joshua Coleman, an assistant professor at Arizona State University, state, “Children’s nonfiction, and picturebook biographies in particular, operate as both ‘windows’ and ‘sliding glass doors’ by providing seemingly factual accounts of queer history (qtd. In Bishop 1990)” (38). However, communicating authentic messages to children about “white supremacy, gender conformity, and institutional normalization” is highly difficult (Wargo and Coleman 38). As a result, much of queer history is pinkwashed, or marketed in a way that downplays that harm LGBTQ people have faced. This allows institutions to cover discriminatory histories and avoid communicating intricate nuances to children, leaving them sheltered from reality. When history is pinkwashed, as it is in many children’s books, the metaphorical mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors, become “broken” or “foggy,” and children will not be able see themselves or gain a deep understanding of the injustices LGBTQ people face. This allows for the perpetual injustice of LGBTQ individuals as both heteronormative and homonormative ideas will resurface when mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors do not work.
The homonormativity expressed in children’s literature is one rooted in power dynamics. In his study entitled, “U.S. Children’s Picture Books and the Homonormative Subject,” Nathan Taylor, an Associate Professor in the School of Education and Social Sciences at The Ohio State University, notes that “the lesbian- and gay-themed picture book is not solely responsible for the creation of the homonormative subject. Rather, the lesbian- and gay-themed picture book is but one discursive practice deployed by a larger technique of power” (147). Queer literature plays a significant role within the social structures that shape how non-normative identities are understood. These books are influenced by those in power. They adhere to homonormativity and force queer characters to assimilate to their heterosexual counterparts. This privileges straight-adjacent queer identities and fails to challenge heteronormativity, limiting the potential for societal change that LGBTQ children’s books could have.
Ultimately, LGBTQ books and their implications are based on heteronormative and homonormative expectations. Privilege-based power dynamics and hierarchical power structures influence which stories are told, how they are told, and who tells them. Almost always, those in power benefit from the ability to tell stories that belong to queer voices. Here, they can ensure that homonormative messages are passed to readers, and they can control which queer books are published. Those in power can require children to read books that do not actually reflect the students or those around them. Such books may include stories about the LGBTQ community that portray queer people negatively, ridden with conflict and struggles. In my own childhood, this meant feeling ignored in the books I read. I struggled to connect with book characters who had binary genders and simple sexualities. In our current world where more books are being banned each day, we need to strive to publish more representative literature. We need to fill bookshelves with stories of queer joy. The stories must lead to mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors for any child. If we want to enable youth to envision the possibilities of their identities, liberate themselves, and authentically understand their own identities, we need to highlight texts that celebrate queerness, not just approve of it. Young readers can no longer be deprived of seeing themselves or those around them in the books they are handed, rather they should be able to imagine non-normative societies through any book they read.
Works Cited
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