You are viewing diceytillerman

Rebecca Rabinowitz
Recently I wrote a post about some things that I wish authors would keep in mind when writing about fat characters. This post is a companion to that one. Not a parallel -- a companion. Here are some things that I wish authors would think about when they're writing a character who is thin.

What are you hoping it says about a character, for them to be thin? What does their thinness symbolize about their actions, their ethics, their level of power?

What does this character's thinness imply about anyone in the book who is not thin?

What does the character's thinness imply about an alternate version of themself (past, present hypothetical, future projection) who is not thin?

Is the character explictly thin -- does the text say thin, slim, slender, or any other form of that -- or is the character thin by default?

Does the text assume that the character's thinness is a choice?

Are you using thinness as a form of wish fulfillment for readers? A form of making the character more attractive to readers? A way to encourage readers to root for this character?

Are you using thinness to show vulnerability?

Privilege likes to keep itself invisible. Thinness is no more blank or neutral than whiteness or ablebodiedness. Thinness is no more natural or average than whiteness or ablebodiedness.

It's no less important to think about literary constructions of thinness than literary constructions of fatness.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
Here are some things that I wish authors would keep in mind when they're writing a character who is fat. I'm making this list with various hats on: children's lit critic, person interested in social justice, book lover, and fat person. The "we" in the list refers to real, living, breathing fat people, which surely must be relevant to the creation of fat characters.

We aren’t symbols. We’re real people. We’re no less complex than anyone else.

Our bodies aren’t symbols of — well, of anything. Not of greed, not of bullying or being bullied, not of inner pain, not of eating habits, not of wellness or illness, not of moral character.

The fat on our bodies is not “extra.” It’s not any less a true part of our bodies than any other part. (Sure, a person can go on living if they lose some amount of fat. That doesn’t mean the fat was extraneous. A person can go on living if they lose many body parts or body tissues. Bodies are wondrous things and can survive and thrive across many types of change.)

We aren’t sad and tragic. We’re members of an oppressed group, and we’re harmed by that, but we’re also strong.

Our fights against fatphobia are not generally welcomed in social justice contexts. We’re an oppressed group whose liberation movement is not generally considered a liberation movement at all.

We’re not the “before” picture of an emotional, spiritual, or physical growth arc.

Fat bodies aren’t any more monolithic than any other category of bodies.

Fat people aren’t any more monolithic than any other category of people.

Fat stories aren’t any more monolithic than any other category of stories.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
05 May 2014 @ 12:02 am
Karen Sandler's Tankborn trilogy has just come to its conclusion. I recommend it. While the micro prose isn't the smoothest, the story's worth it. There's real depth there, especially at the end of book three.

Take a look at the series' three gorgeous covers.

There are two same-sex couples in the series. Until three-quarters of the way through the last book, there's not a jot, not a speck, of homophobia, not even to convey that it's wrong. If I remember correctly, the first same-sex couple shows up in book two, so that's over a book and half with same-sex love portrayed as if the notion of homophobia doesn't exist. I found this refreshing and valuable -- and rare. When the brief bit of homophobia shows up in book three, unequivocally condemned by the text, I found myself disappointed to see it there at all. I had liked its utter lack of existence.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
22 March 2014 @ 09:55 pm
A while ago I was asking some friends for a bit of advice, and my question to them was related to my identifying as somewhat genderqueer, and while my darling friends were extremely polite and supportive, I somehow realized halfway through the interaction that I'd never told them that in the first place. I was honestly really surprised -- these are some of my very best friends! I guess my realization/identification happened so slowly and felt so natural that somehow I forgot to tell even some of my closest people.

So if you know me, you might have known it or you might not. Identifying as genderqueer is a joyful and centering thing for me. It makes me grin and it makes my world fall into place. Beyond that, I'm not sure what to say. Oh -- female pronouns still, please. I'm a genderqueer girl, if you want a label.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
As far as I know (please correct me if you know otherwise!), this is the first nonfiction book about trans teens written for teens. I've read the whole thing, and I love it.

Professionally, I'm out of my wheelhouse here, because I rarely have the chance to read YA nonfiction. If and when any of you read it, I'd love to hear what you think.

Six teens are featured. Each has their own chapter, no overlapping. Each chapter is made up mostly of that person's own words about themself, narrating in first person (though it all came about through interviews and visits with author Susan Kuklin, who's done some editing for order and flow, which she explains at the end). Interspersed with that teen's own words are short comments/questions/prompts by Kuklin, but the main vibe is each kid speaking for themself. Most chapters have photos (also by Kuklin, with design input from the kids). There is a great range of joy and pain.

Of the six kids, two are definitely kids of color, and two other kids seem to possibly be kids of color. One kid seems clearly white. Not all the kids are trans in a binary way. Some are, but there's genderqueerness here too, and other examples of sex and gender not being binary. Various sexual orientations are represented.

Unless I missed something, the word "cis" isn't in the book at all. The concept is, of course, but not the word. I wonder if cis isn't a word in teen circles. Kuklin uses everyone's chosen gender pronouns, but nary a "sie" or "hir" is in the book either.

Because these people are very young, there are occasionally places where a thing hit me really wrong, a thing that I'd criticize if the book were really written by an adult. Things like "I've never been gay-bashed. No one has ever said really hurtful things to me. I've never experienced much disrespect from my peers. I think that's because I have a positive attitude. I've always been happy and bubbly, and I've never made people feel uncomfortable with who I am" [3]. Or, "For you to be emotionally happy, you need to be physically happy; you need to be in good health" [26]. Or, a moment of parental acceptance being "My mom said, 'I want you to blow the world away with your transition as a man. Start working out. Go to the gym. Look good. And you can't be a fat man. No girl likes that'" [12]. But these kids are super young, and such moments pale in comparison to the great goodness of this book.

There's good backmatter and resources too. (Though I'm rather wildly curious why, given that there's a fiction section, only Middlesex and Luna are in it.)

I want this book on all the shelves. Thank you to the kids who made this book; thank you to Susan Kuklin and the other adults who made this book; and, hey, world -- thank you for having gotten to a place where this book exists and is getting good reviews. Thank you to everyone, everywhere, who's working on that.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
30 January 2014 @ 01:38 am
Via Debbie Reese at American Indians in Children's Literature: The 2014 Recipients of the American Indian Library Association's Youth Literature Award.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
30 January 2014 @ 01:33 am
Inhabit Media: "We are an Inuit-owned publishing company, with our head office located in Iqaluit, Nunavut. To our knowledge we are the only independent publishing company located in the Canadian Arctic. Our aim is to preserve and promote the stories, knowledge and talent of Inuit and northern Canada." Vicky Smith, Kirkus children's editor, has a great post about them: Inhabit Media: A Breath of Arctic Air from Nunavut.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
27 January 2014 @ 10:00 am
Because even a book that wins an award on criteria related specifically to oppression and liberation is not subject to examination on other axes. e.E. Charlton-Trujillo's Fat Angie has just won the Stonewall for its excellent portrayal of queerness. Apparently its participation in the notion that fat people should not exist -- its replication of a pattern of fatphobia so hegemonic that nobody seems to see it -- is not important enough to consider alongside its terrific queerness portrayal.

It is, though. We need both. We need all. That would be intersectionality.
Rebecca Rabinowitz
17 January 2014 @ 04:54 pm
On fantasy literature and fictional contraceptives: Seabane Isn't Real.