There are many excellent new LGBTQ-inclusive kids’ books—but a picture book and a middle grade title out this week are among my recent favorites, bursting with queer joy, wisdom, family, and community.
Family Found: A Queer Friendsgiving Celebration, by Joanna McClintick, illustrated by Keisha Morris (Candlewick): A girl gathers with her chosen family for a “Friendsgiving” Thanksgiving in this joyous book of family, history, community, and queer elders. As the girl asks about the celebration’s origins, each adult offers a different answer, casting a light on both personal and broader history.
Great-Uncle Billy says he started the Friendsgiving, back when he had to ask the coded, “Are you a friend of Dorothy?” to find other queer people, who would gather in safe spaces named after birds. Miss Mona (who is Bruce when not in her drag persona) says it began when her car broke down and she had to stay overnight. Grandma Jane (the child’s mom’s “chosen mom”) and Nana Rose credit themselves, as they peel apples for the pie; Grandma Jane fixed Miss Mona’s car, and Nana Rose invited folks to stay.
The girl reflects, too, on Nana Rose’s history as part of the Lavender Menace, where she protested to include lesbians in the women’s movement. The girl remembers that story, but not the origins of the Friendsgiving.
Elliot and Ash, who have four kids, “and other kids that might be staying with them this time of year,” claim it as their idea. They reminisce about vogue balls as they prepare more food.
The girl’s mom can’t remember, either, but observes, “What’s important anyway is our family found each other.” The family sits to eat, but only after a shared recitation of a poem about family—which no one can remember the origins of, either!
I absolutely adore this book, which both celebrates queer history and reminds us that sometimes, it’s simply the outcome of people coming together in love that matters most. I particularly like how the queer elders convey their stories of resilience; the history they share is not from a textbook, but from their own lived experiences. Author Joanna McClintick keeps the pedagogy light, however; what matters here is the sense of family, community, and joy, passed down as a loving heritage to the next generation. Illustrator Keisha Morris’s collage images reinforce the warmth of McClintick’s words, while an author’s note explains more about the history referenced in the story.
Every queer picture book collection should include this title. Very highly recommended.
The family is mostly Black, with several characters who read as Asian.
The Shapeshifter’s Guide to Gym Class, by Kai Cheng Thom (Simon & Schuster): Thirteen-year-old Maia Tan is a shapeshifter, one of a number of people in her town of Nor Numinem who have the ability to change into a part-animal shape. But Maia’s moth wings are flimsy and useless, unable to help her fly and out of her control. Most embarrassingly, they show up when she talks with cute new student Luke. Her other shifter friends seem to have better control over their “metashapes” already. One could read Maia’s struggles with her metashape as an analogy for puberty, but author Kai Cheng Thom isn’t heavy handed about this; it feels more like there are relatable resonances rather than exact parallels.
As Maia struggles with her own self-doubts, the town itself faces a new threat, a strange blight moving through its perfect gardens. Some blame the shifters, while even the ostensibly supportive adults seem to be keeping secrets. Maia and her friends Athena, Gaius, Yue, and Laz (all of whom are shifters except Laz), must work together, despite disagreements on how to proceed, to protect themselves and perhaps even save their town.
Maia is also a transgender girl; Laz a trans boy; and Athena has two dads. The book hits the perfect note of not being “about” those identities, but not ignoring them, either. The characters reflect on them at times when it makes sense. There are references to Laz being teased for his gender identity in the past, but we also learn that Gaius stood up for him; in the current timeline of the story, the bias is against shifters, not trans people. Later in the story, Maia’s experience coming out as a girl is used as a positive reference point for another decision about who she wants to be. It is a part of her experience but doesn’t define her entirety. Notably, too, the book treats Maia’s crush on and interactions with Luke, and Laz’s crush on another boy, simply as crushes. There is no angst from any of those involved about the crush “finding out” they are trans—nor should there be, but that is often a trope in fiction about trans people, happily avoided here.
Thom intersperses the main narrative of the story with entries from Maia’s personal “Guidebook” to life, offering tips on topics like “When Adults Give You Bad Advice,” “How to Like Your Body, Even When It Deeply Betrays You at the Worst Possible Moments,” “What to Do When Your Best Friend Needs You,” and even “When You Have to Break the Rules.” These sections allow Thom to offer wisdom without bogging down the flow of the story, and the lighthearted tone keeps things from feeling pedantic—but there are some truly good insights here.
The fictional, magical setting helps create a captivating tale with a town history that serves the plot, but the book also explores themes that feel timely and relevant: discovering who one is amidst the challenges of changing bodies, friendships, and realizations about the world; the gray area between right and wrong; how to evaluate the stories one hears; the importance of remembering our history; the need to listen to and trust what youth say about themselves; how even within a marginalized group, there are different experiences and levels of privilege; and how we cannot protect children by taking away other children’s freedom. Importantly, too, the story takes a nuanced view to addressing biases and problems, showing that even well-meaning people (both youth and adults) don’t always agree on a solution and sometimes make mistakes. Yes, many of the book’s lessons could be applied to how the real world treats trans people (and other marginalized groups) today, but Thom conveys these points without making the story one of trans suffering, or even overcoming that suffering (a type of story that may have its place, but shouldn’t be the only story told about trans people). Instead, she gives us powerful messages about inclusion while also giving us a vision of unconditional trans joy.
There’s a lot here, but it’s wrapped in a lively, suspenseful, and often humorous narrative with engaging and well-developed characters. The main youth characters reflect a range of intersecting identities, experiences, and family situations, and each has layers; sometimes the ones who seem quieter or less confident are actually a steadying presence; sometimes being gifted is lonely; sometimes a bold persona hides anxiety. This is a joyous, wise, delightful, and highly recommended story about self-growth, community, and why, as the book says, “The only monsters are the ones we make.”
Maia has an Asian father and a White mother; Athena is Black; Yue is East Asian, and Gaius is South Asian; Luke has olive skin.