Ah, the pains of adult responsibilities and the gradual loss of my passion and dedication to issues that truly need advocacy.
At my undergraduate school, Monmouth College, I was engrossed in the activist scene (as much as a small town could provide). I was a leader of several organizations including Listen Up! (general promotion of life activism), Students for Environmental Awareness, a member of the People Respecting Individual Sexuality at Monmouth College, and I went on several Alternative Spring Break trips across the country. For one semester I studied Social Justice, Gender, and the Environment in Mexico. I love to advocate for the underprivileged and underrepresented, the people and issues that need a say in this world. I love to educate myself on issues that promote equality, democracy, and general good joo joo.
Now, envision my life in a tailspin. At least that’s what it feels like. Proximity to other passionate people and proximity to easily accessible activist opportunities has left me doing little to anything. Also, my mobile life for the past three years makes it hard to dedicate myself to a group. This is perhaps why I have taken to librarianship so readily. It’s the promotion of literacy and self-education, aiding all people equally, and interacting with the community where you live. I love everything about it.
I’m particularly drawn to working with young adults. Historically, they’ve been excluded from library service. Most libraries have at least added a separate collection for young adults, which is fab, but a lot of work still needs to be done in terms of outreach.
For my Reference class, I created a pathfinder (guide to different information sources for patrons) of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, questioning (LGBTQ) protagonists in young adult fiction. LGBTQ teens begin to accept and/or question their own identity at this age. Furthermore, they start to become uncertain and fearful of the outcome in relation to the people around them. One way to explore these questions and accept their sexual identity is through the experiences of fictional characters.
So because I loooove lists, below you’ll find recommended reads (from my pathfinder) for recent (and one classic) literature that includes LGBTQ protagonists:
Sprout. An interesting name for a kid. But don’t think this protagonist will tell you ‘Why Sprout?’ until he wants to. With his cheeky, cynically poignant observations, Sprout’s not one to elaborate on his own life story. When the advanced English teacher singles Sprout out as the next Kansas State Writing Champion, his subject material is anything but himself. When Sprout reveals he’s gay (“Betcha didn’t see that coming, did ya?”) his teacher warns him against writing about it. While homosexuality does not define Sprout, he avoids disclosure because he fears that that’s all people will see him as. He soon meets the boy of his dreams, someone who physically expresses but never vocalizes his attraction to Sprout.
This novel describes a character’s journey towards his identity, oftentimes hiding behind humor. Instead of a plot-driven, triumphant winning story, Sprout gives the reader a journey with a nerdy teen into what “gay” means on a personal level.
One of the first novels portraying a positive intimate relationship between two people of the same sex, Annie and Liza discover their sexuality through each other and the tight bond they form around a simple yet powerful love. Not necessarily considered “hip” or “sexy,” (written in 1982) this novel exposes the normality of love between two people.
Angela, uncomfortable as a girl, comes out as transgendered to her family, friends, and classmates with a mixed bag of reactions soon to follow. Now named Grady, he brings the world head-on into his identity with humor and strength.
“Fifteen-year-old Steven conscientiously collects photos of girls in bikinis and dates his female classmates in this humorous attempt to fit into his Minnesota high school, only to find out some surprising things about the people around him—and himself” (ALA Rainbow Project).
A rarity in its presentation of a non-white protagonist in LGBTQ literature, 17-year-old Laura is kicked out of school, disowned by her parents, and abandoned by her girlfriend who bends into family pressure to marry straight. Even amidst these tragic experiences, Laura confronts the world head-on with a smile to match it.
“Torn between her emerging love for the King’s mysterious huntress and the ethereal draw of the world of the fairies, Ash discovers the strength of her own identity” (ALA Rainbow Project).