Pride & Persistence: Stories of Queer Activism
Pride & Persistence: Stories of Queer Activism
Susan [Ursel] has been involved in a great many legal cases in support of same-sex marriage and equal rights for families. One of Susan’s most interesting cases started with a kindergarten-Grade 1 teacher from Surrey, British Columbia in the 1990s. Mr. Chamberlain requested three picture books for his classroom library, each with same-sex couples. The school board refused to approve them on the grounds parents might object and kids this young didn’t need to know about non-traditional families. Mr. Chamberlain argued that he, like every other teacher, had kids in his class who had two moms or two dads, or a single queer parent. Others had a gay uncle, a lesbian cousin, a gender non-conforming neighbor, or maybe wondered if they were growing up to be queer themselves. There was no reason the families in the books they read shouldn’t look like their own families. The same argument had been made in the 1950s and 1960s, when some people opposed books with non-white characters in schools. That seems ridiculous, now, doesn’t it? Well, books with only straight people posed a similar problem.
The Surrey school board wouldn’t budge, but Mr. Chamberlain wasn’t done fighting. Instead, he took the board to court for the right to have queer books in his class. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada, the highest court in the country, where Susan was one of the lawyers who presented her argument to the panel of judges. She stood up and said, “I’m here to speak for the children.” The judges started to see the point: there were real children being affected by this rule in real classrooms. No one wanted to discriminate against kids or make school harder. No kid should feel left out. Susan’s baby daughter was in the court that day with her other mom.
Pride & Persistence, at its most basic, is a collective biography of 14 queer activists who range from a university undergraduate to a retiree. Ten are from Canada, four from the United States, all identify as women or non-binary. The author explains in the preface that they deliberately exclude people who identify as men because historically there are far more books published by or about men. One of the subjects is straight, one is bisexual, two self-identify as trans women, and some prefer terms like lesbian, queer, non-binary or a combination of terms to self-identify. The brief biographies, four to six pages in length, all begin with a sketched portrait and a quote from the individual along with a descriptive chapter title emphasizing the area of activism highlighted in the book. Small sidebars provide the subject’s name, pronouns they use, self-identification terms, area of activism, and a passion or other fact about the person. An age-appropriate glossary of queer terms is a welcome addition to the book.
Breen begins the book with two historical timelines chronicling advancement in queer rights in Canada and in the United States, from the 1960s to almost the present. The last entry for the United States is dated 2016 when it became legal for queer couples to adopt children anywhere in the U.S. In the conclusion, Breen acknowledges that “In the US right now, we’re seeing a backlash against women’s rights and queer rights”. This is an understatement given the recent politicization of transphobic rhetoric and hateful behaviours directed to gender non-conforming children, youth, adults and their allies, often couched in terms of “parental rights” while ignoring “children’s rights” and regional human rights codes in Canada and the United States. Who could have imagined the power of a pronoun to rile up people when so many other existential crises are at hand?
Breen’s passionate advocacy for equal rights of all people regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity is a bold foray into the culture wars of today. Breen gets carried away at times with superlatives, describing the Castro area of San Francisco as “the most famous queer neighborhood in America” and stating that a newspaper article about Rogue Witterick and their partner’s decision more than ten years ago to not reveal the sex assigned to their third child at birth “the most popular item the Toronto Star had ever published.” In Rogue’s biography, their advocacy for the needs of trans kids was spurred on by the experiences of their first child. Children may increasingly be the ones who help older generations to let go of old categories and let people be themselves and hopefully advance tolerance, acceptance and allyship.
The activists profiled are generally average folks as none are high profile celebrities subjected to ongoing media attention. One activist is a family doctor who has a strong interest in providing gender-affirming medical care. Other subjects include a former member of provincial parliament, a former member of the US Navy, a musician/writer/educator, a member of the queer tango dance community of Montreal, a retired bartender who writes poetry and music and has mentored queer young adults for decades, and a university student who aspires to become a teacher and who wrote a viral article protesting the arrival of a fast-food chain on her campus because of the firm’s support for groups that oppose LGBTQ rights. Many of the subjects are people from the BIPOC communities.
In Ontario, the Physical and Health Education curriculum for grades 1-8 seeks to respond “to the realities affecting students’ lives today.” The curriculum suggests that grade eight is the time to learn about gender identities and gender expression. Some students may be grappling with their own identities in earlier grades. Canadian schools, educators, publishers, and the highest court in the land recognize the importance of having books portray diverse families in age-appropriate resources. The target readers of this book are kids in grades 4-7 or ages 9-12 according to the publisher, but this reviewer believes that it is more suited to a slightly older audience. Teachers worried about opposition from some parents may be afraid to purchase or use this book. Self-censorship is a real issue in all libraries, and controversial works may be ignored entirely under the guise of shortage of funds or quality of writing. In the case of Pride and Persistence, the book addresses real issues of discrimination and of acceptance, both of oneself and of others. The writing style may be unexceptional, but the representation of real people from the LGBTQ communities may strike recognition in young readers. For that reason alone, I urge librarians to give this book careful consideration.
Val Ken Lem catalogued for school libraries before becoming an academic librarian at what is now Toronto Metropolitan University. He is interested in children’s literature and is happy to find fictional LGBTQ characters in Canadian chapter books and novels for high school readers.