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A review by nannahnannah
Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe
challenging
emotional
informative
medium-paced
2.25
It seems I am definitely in the minority here, but even though I share a massive amount of experiences with the author, I found the memoir—and Maia Kobabe eirself—difficult to relate to. The purpose of memoirs aren't necessarily to be relatable, though, so that I find very easy to forgive. But the back of the book says that it also doubles as a guide, which is a lot more frustrating, because a surprising amount of the information is at best outdated and at worst pretty harmful.
I admit, if I had read this maybe 5 to 8 years ago, I might have a slightly different opinion. There would be things I would find a lot easier to ignore, or there would be things I wouldn't catch. Reading it now when I'm at an age (or at least a time in my life) when I'm looking at things a little more critically, I find that this reads a little too shallowly. Topics would be introduced only for a scene to end or for the author to present them without looking at any of eir past actions critically, either. I'm not saying that this graphic novel isn't important, because it has already saved lives and I'm sure it will save hundreds more, I'm just saying I wish it was a little more polished, perhaps.
For example, the several Harry Potter references seem pretty inappropriate, given the subject matter. The choice of "ships" included also seem alienating in a way I don't think e meant them to be (a.k.a. incestual ships and ones of minors—real-life minors, too—when e was in grad school). One thing that also bothered me while reading was Kobabe's failure to examine eir privilege, or acknowledge the struggle of other trans or non-binary people. Again, the word that comes to mind is "alienating", rather than relatable.
I do have several things that I feel strongly about, though, that I wish Kobabe had thought through more before publishing. Eir sections on eir two pap smears, although the images were very strong and poignant, have the possibility to do more harm than good if this really is intended to be a guide as well as a memoir. First of all, it could make teens and young adults more nervous for the test than they might have been, making it more painful, or it could frighten them away from getting the test at all. Secondly, that much pain—and especially blood on the speculum—usually means that there's something going on. I had the same type of reaction (without dysphoria to that degree), because I have something called vaginismus, involuntary and painful muscle spasms that happened whenever anything is inserted into the vagina. It seems very, very strange that none of the doctors suggested this to em, but if they had, I'm going to hope that ey would have included a note somewhere in the memoir about it. It would be irresponsible otherwise.
One of the other things I also wish that Kobabe had looked at more closely or perhaps researched a bit before publishing this was the inclusion of the term "autoandrophilia", which according to the author, means, "a person assigned female at birth who is sexually aroused at the thought or image of having male genitalia or being a man." This is a term coined by American-Canadian psychologist Ray Blanchard, who, according to the website linked (Transgender Map), rejected 90% of people seeking healthcare, created several obscure diseases to categorize trans people (including autoandrophilia), and has now become "a key figure in the gender critical movement of anti-transgender activists." Including this without comment is what bothered me the most. Some people do like to use these "disease models" to help others—a.k.a. cis people—understand us a little better, but again, a comment could have helped so much.
The memoir isn't terrible by a long shot, but unfortunately it wasn't very enjoyable for me personally. The art was lovely, and there were many times where Kobabe's dysphoria really hit home and felt relatable even when eir's nerd culture references didn't. I am glad this book has helped many people, and I hope it continues to do so.
I admit, if I had read this maybe 5 to 8 years ago, I might have a slightly different opinion. There would be things I would find a lot easier to ignore, or there would be things I wouldn't catch. Reading it now when I'm at an age (or at least a time in my life) when I'm looking at things a little more critically, I find that this reads a little too shallowly. Topics would be introduced only for a scene to end or for the author to present them without looking at any of eir past actions critically, either. I'm not saying that this graphic novel isn't important, because it has already saved lives and I'm sure it will save hundreds more, I'm just saying I wish it was a little more polished, perhaps.
For example, the several Harry Potter references seem pretty inappropriate, given the subject matter. The choice of "ships" included also seem alienating in a way I don't think e meant them to be (a.k.a. incestual ships and ones of minors—real-life minors, too—when e was in grad school). One thing that also bothered me while reading was Kobabe's failure to examine eir privilege, or acknowledge the struggle of other trans or non-binary people. Again, the word that comes to mind is "alienating", rather than relatable.
I do have several things that I feel strongly about, though, that I wish Kobabe had thought through more before publishing. Eir sections on eir two pap smears, although the images were very strong and poignant, have the possibility to do more harm than good if this really is intended to be a guide as well as a memoir. First of all, it could make teens and young adults more nervous for the test than they might have been, making it more painful, or it could frighten them away from getting the test at all. Secondly, that much pain—and especially blood on the speculum—usually means that there's something going on. I had the same type of reaction (without dysphoria to that degree), because I have something called vaginismus, involuntary and painful muscle spasms that happened whenever anything is inserted into the vagina. It seems very, very strange that none of the doctors suggested this to em, but if they had, I'm going to hope that ey would have included a note somewhere in the memoir about it. It would be irresponsible otherwise.
One of the other things I also wish that Kobabe had looked at more closely or perhaps researched a bit before publishing this was the inclusion of the term "autoandrophilia", which according to the author, means, "a person assigned female at birth who is sexually aroused at the thought or image of having male genitalia or being a man." This is a term coined by American-Canadian psychologist Ray Blanchard, who, according to the website linked (Transgender Map), rejected 90% of people seeking healthcare, created several obscure diseases to categorize trans people (including autoandrophilia), and has now become "a key figure in the gender critical movement of anti-transgender activists." Including this without comment is what bothered me the most. Some people do like to use these "disease models" to help others—a.k.a. cis people—understand us a little better, but again, a comment could have helped so much.
The memoir isn't terrible by a long shot, but unfortunately it wasn't very enjoyable for me personally. The art was lovely, and there were many times where Kobabe's dysphoria really hit home and felt relatable even when eir's nerd culture references didn't. I am glad this book has helped many people, and I hope it continues to do so.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Dysphoria
Minor: Incest
also: misgendering & a panel depicting sex between a young man and someone much older