Authentic queer representation in literature

This post comes about from a thing I’ve noticed about LGBTQIA+ people and relationships, and how it is reflected in literature…

Being isolated, introverted, and disconnected with society is in most cases a learnt behaviour. Having a frank conversation with a plethora of members of this community from all genders, races, and ages have brought to life something that I find alarming. It’s like a double edged sword – a form of self-abuse and self-protection. And it’s not something that I see discussed frequently or represented in literature. I mean, I’ve read novels where this is touched upon (and it is usually in #ownvoices tomes), but the mainstream tend to overlook this kind of behaviour in favour of trending coming out stories. Coming out isn’t necessary for any LGBTQIA+ person, and their issues do not magically disappear as soon as they do; in most cases you get handed a different set of complications to navigate.

Members of the LGBTQIA+ community face rejection of some form so regularly that when it comes to friendships and familial relationships, many individuals will let go of these relationships, not because of discrimination, mircoaggression, or flat out rejection, but because it just petered out. Any type of friendship or relationship is a two-way street, but LGBTQIA+ people face bigger hurdles in fostering these types of relationships to cis-gendered straight members of the community.

The sad reality is that LGBTQIA+ people are less likely to continue putting themselves in a position where they can get hurt by being the one to initiate contact. Even with members of family or their friends which they already have an established and safe relationship with. Rejection can be tiring. It can whittle away at your psyche until you just can’t be bothered anymore. So when I asked about these types of relationships, and why they had ended, it was a sad realisation that having a relationship of some form with a LGBTQIA+ person is a little more than an even exchange of pleasantries.

“LGBTQIA+ people are less likely to continue putting themselves in a position where they can get hurt by being the one to initiate contact.”

LGBTQIA+ people require you to do slightly more work. Be the initiator of a conversation, reach out on social media, send a text, make a call. Make them feel safe. Wanted. Valuable. Don’t get complacent… otherwise you will be replaced, forgotten, pushed further out in their circle of friends/relatives.

Now, every person is different, and their relationships are different too, so this is not a blanket statement applying to all LGBTQIA+ people. It was just a trend I noticed in talking to these particular community members and how they wished things hadn’t gotten so awkward. Should they initiate contact after all this time? Had things gotten so bad because that other person was too polite and didn’t want to say outright that they did not want them in their lives? Did that other person fear reprisal, or being branded homophobic, or something similar? This was the kind of internal monologue running through the heads of many of the LGBTQIA+ people I talked with. It comes from a place of fear and rejection. A tone that is always underlying many of LGBTQIA+ relationships. It doesn’t go away.

An extra burden the community carries.

I think that is where movements like #ownvoices is important. They live through the nuances of the LGBTQIA+ experience that cis-gendered, straight author’s commonly overlook (or, quite frankly, don’t even register as something that exists) especially now in a publishing climate where the LBGTQIA+ community is getting greater representation. While I feel like any representation is a plus, we still need to ensure that we are having a positive impact on the community. And yes, I understand that people read for different reasons, and that it is all well and good to make this statement and yet M/M romances written by cis-gendered female authors is still leading that sub-genre market. And straight, cis-gendered authors are penning popular YA novels… I’d like to see fiction take the opportunity to explore real issues the LGBTQIA+ community face and not use sexuality or coming out as a plot device.

Some outstanding writing I feel that does the LGBTQIA+ community great service includes these authors (with links to their Goodreads pages):

Becky Chambers, Alice Oseman, Michael Barakiva, Alison Evans,

Bill Konisberg, C.B. Lee, Shaun David Hutchinson,

Casey McQuistion, Graeme Aitken.

I’m sure there are many other authors out there, but this is all I have personally read that bring that authentic LGBTQIA+ tone with their writing. Feel free to add more authors down in the comments that you feel deserve to be on this list.

I love that we are seeing allies, out and proud, bolstering the community. Actions of these people is the exact kind of social movement that helps to tear down the walls of fear and rejection that has subtly affected the way LBGTQIA+ people relate to others – especially outside the community.

This article is not an answer to an issue. A diagnosis. Merely a discussion from social interaction and conversations that I feel is important to consider, and start to make readers aware of the issues a marginalised community face – and not something to be romanticised as a plot device. LGBTQA+ people isolate themselves, whether consciously or not, and it is up to the community at large to reach out. Make safe spaces. Because some LGBTQIA+ people are less likely to do so. Yes, there are people standing up for a marginalised community and making changes, bringing awareness to issues like this, but not everyone is a trailblazer, or can stand on a soapbox and fight for an issue. Many are broken. Scared. Or just plain fed up with everything being so hard. Not to mention facing fear for their lives, physical abuse, ostracized from their families, religious communities, neighbourhoods, or workplaces.

So take a little time and patience with your friends and family. Check in on them more often. You never know who is in that mental space, protecting their heart. Hearts are built to share and spread love… even if they are a little shy.

Start reading critically, support #ownvoices authors and make the publishing landscape an equal opportunity industry. Representation matters. Authenticity matters. And this issue is much larger than LGBTQIA+ communities as the current national political landscape has shown recently with movements like BLM, WomenUp, StopH8, etc..

I feel fiction with realistic, relatable characters engaging; stories with relevant issues interesting; and bringing in these types of mechanics in storytelling can add complexity, richness, and lead to the ultimate reading experience.

© Casey Carlisle 2021. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Casey Carlisle with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Book Review – ‘Risk’ by Fleur Ferris

Realistic fiction with a scary scenario.

Genre: Y/A, Mystery, Thriller, Realistic Fiction

No. of pages: 279

From Goodreads:

Taylor and Sierra have been best friends for their whole lives. But Taylor’s fed up. Why does Sierra always get what – and who – she wants? From kissing Taylor’s crush to stealing the guy they both met online for herself, Sierra doesn’t seem to notice when she hurts her friends.

So when Sierra says Jacob Jones is the one and asks her friends to cover for her while she goes to meet him for the first time, Taylor rolls her eyes. 

But Sierra doesn’t come back when she said she would.

One day. Two days. Three . . .

What if Taylor’s worrying for nothing? What if Sierra’s just being Sierra, forgetting about everyone else to spend time with her new guy? 

When Taylor finally tells Sierra’s mum that her daughter is missing, Taylor and her friends are thrown into a dark world they never even knew existed.

Can Taylor find Sierra’s abductor in time? Or should she be looking for a killer?

This is a brilliant book – more so for the experience of a young girl falling victim to an online predator and all of the education this tale supplies. Being honest, I put this book down halfway through because I was getting really frustrated with the protagonist Taylor and her best friend Sierra. They were annoyingly stupid, secretive, and well… realistically teen girls. I just wanted to shake them and force them to wake up to how idiotic and reckless their behavior was. Maybe if I had read this in my early teens when I was the target market for ’Risk,’ but maybe not. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the risky behavior of the girls involved. So I see putting the book down for a while not as a sign of bad writing, pacing, or character development; but of how immersed I was in the story. The strength of my emotional reaction to the situation.

Upon picking up the book again, it was evident that the narrative quickly changed and the pace stepped up even more. If I had only read another 20 pages before putting it down the first time, the tone of the novel would have completely changed. From stupid-stubborn-reckless teen girls obsessed with boys, to a high-stakes murder mystery. I was really taken on a ride with ‘Risk.’ It brought up some of my past friendships, memories of my childhood, of living in Melbourne, and of a depressing time when my Mother passed. I was triggered. But in a good way.

‘Risk’ follows Taylor’s story and involvement in her best friend Sierra’s relationship with a boy she meets online, her eventual abduction and the events that follow on thereafter. The scary part is that is all feels too real, so conceivable. Taylor and Sierra are so quintessentially those teen girls that long for this epic love story, pushing their parents away because, like, they don’t get it. They don’t realise their parents are looking out for them. The girls just want the romance. They don’t realise that they are ripe for an experienced child predator to step in with a routine, ‘grooming’ the girls to a meet up in real life. And that’s when the real scary stuff kicks in.

I think the thing that has stayed with me the most after reading ‘Risk’ is how it affected everyone else. The novel follows friends, family, teachers, police, and the general public’s reactions as well as our main cast. It’s something that adds gravitas and seriousness to the storyline. This is where the education and awareness steps front and centre as a theme to really kick you in the guts.

Getting into the nitty-gritty of my reading experience, I guess I wanted more sophistication. From the characters and the plot. A quicker set up of the storyline in the beginning and further exploration of the mystery. Sleuthing out the online predator. But that’s only because I’m waaay out of the target demographic and loved the detective-styled second half of the novel.

This is no cliché’d after-school special on the dangers of online dating. ‘Risk’ is visceral and based in a real world scenario. I can see it as a valuable addition to a high school English curriculums reading list. It has some great discussion topics and educates in a way that is not depressingly obvious. Certainly a gem in the rough and something I want to give to all the young readers I know.

Overall feeling: a shake up and a wake up

© Casey Carlisle 2019. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Casey Carlisle with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.