Santa Rosa author explains, embraces new approach to gender identity

Harper Lee, J.D. Salinger and Mark Twain all have something important in common with Santa Rosa author Maia Kobabe: All four authors have penned banned books.

You might have heard of the works from the first three: “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “Catcher in the Rye” and “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” respectively. Kobabe’s, on the other hand, a graphic novel titled “Gender Queer: A Memoir,” has been relatively unknown — until recently.

Everything changed in September. That’s when a school board in Fairfax County, Virginia, decided the 2019 autobiography about Kobabe’s journey to identifying as nonbinary and asexual was “pornography,” and pulled it and another book from school shelves. Over the subsequent weeks, more than a half-dozen other states’ districts followed suit bringing the total number of states banning Kobabe’s book to 10.

“I feel like my book in particular has been caught up in a viral social media moment because it’s a comic, because you can snap a pic of one panel you disagree with and share it completely removed from context of the rest of the book, it gets shared without people ever seeing the book or reading the whole thing,” Kobabe said. “When I was writing it, very early on, I showed an early draft to another cartoonist, and he told me, ‘Expect this book to be banned and take it as a compliment when that happens.’ So here we are.”

Big ideas, powerful message

The recent uproar over the “Gender Queer” book is only part of Kobabe’s story — a personal narrative that has served as an inspiration to young people who have grappled with questions about gender identity.

Much of this journey unfolds in the book itself, which chronicles Kobabe’s evolution from adolescence to adulthood and unpacks the hardships of coming out, the ups and downs of adolescent crushes and the flat-out trauma of being nonbinary in a society that largely sees gender as limited to the two categories of man and woman.

Portions of the graphic novel are just that — graphic. Some readers found the images offensive.

Still, the message is powerful. By the end of the book, Kobabe has taken readers through a journey to gender independence.

“I began to think of gender less as a scale and more as a landscape,” Kobabe wrote when reflecting on the past. “Some people are happy to live in the place they were born, while others must make a journey to reach the climate in which they can flourish and grow.”

Another important milestone along the path: The author’s decision to use something called neopronouns.

Instead of using gendered identifiers such as “she,” “them,” or “their,” Kobabe has embraced nonbinary options “e,” “em,” and “eir.” This article will use nonbinary neopronouns.

When asked about pronouns, Kobabe said, “The ones I chose feel like a coat that fits.”

Kobabe, 31, admitted it can get tiresome educating the uninitiated about these new identifiers, but also noted that correcting wrong pronouns is important in the right circumstances.

“I’ve corrected people live on the radio or family and friends, but I will never correct a server at a restaurant,” e said. “It’s not important to me that a waiter gets my pronouns right; I would rather they remember my food order. I choose my moments to try to have an educational conversation where I think it’s going to have the most impact.”

A winding road

Kobabe is from Sonoma County, having grown up mostly outside Petaluma in a rural area some might describe as west county.

To hear Kobabe tell it, the area was “out in the cow fields.” And the quietude brought happiness.

“Growing up in nature, I felt so safe and free to wander around the hillsides and talk to myself,” Kobabe said. “It was a very relaxed and natural childhood. I had space to be me, whatever that was, without being observed or judged or commented on by anyone. Every child should be so lucky.”

Kobabe described eir parents as “benevolently hands off,” and noted that they “let me grow in my own shape.”

When e got eir first period at age 11, however, everything changed. E felt betrayed by eir own body. E became unhappy and confused by societal expectations and norms. E withdrew and turned to reading and sketching to cope with feelings of depression and dysmorphia.

Gradually, as Kobabe worked through eir gender transformation, e started creating original pieces about the ride. “Gender Queer” took shape. E attended Dominican University in San Rafael, and studied cartooning in graduate school at California College of the Arts in San Francisco.

‘A teaching tool’

While some conservatives in many other states think “Gender Queer” is too much, members of the local LGBTQIA+ community hail Kobabe’s book as “life-changing,” “life-affirming” and just plain cool.

Several high school and junior high school gay-straight alliance groups read the work in their equivalent of book clubs, and tweens and teens who have read the book have been known to pass it around friend groups like any other comic.

The book has attracted a passionate following at Positive Images, a Santa Rosa nonprofit that offers drop-in support groups, cultural sensitivity trainings for local workplaces, and a community center where LGBTQIA+ kids can find resources. According to Director of Programs Jessica Carroll, “Gender Queer” is the most popular book in the group’s free library and many young queer people find it to be a relatable source of positivity.

“I have heard of young people using the book as a teaching tool with their parents and grandparents — like, ‘Read this, it’s my story too,’” Carroll said. “For people who don’t identify with the same exact label (as Kobabe) but do identify as someone who is just a little different, that book is one that you can connect to for yourself.”

Local people aren’t the only ones to applaud the book for its widespread appeal — it has gotten accolades on a national level as well.

In 2020, for instance, the American Library Association awarded “Gender Queer” an annual Alex Award, which recognizes 10 books that were originally written for adults but could have “special appeal” for teenagers.

Aredvi Azad, co-executive director of The Heal Project, a Somerville, Massachusetts-based nonprofit that teaches kids about healthy living, noted that any modern conversation about sex, sexuality and gender must extend beyond heteronormative, cisgendered relationships, and said books like Kobabe’s help broaden the conversation.

“If we don’t talk about sex (and gender) more broadly, we are unintentionally creating a situation where kids who don’t have interests within what is deemed normal can easily descend into a shame spiral,” said Azad, who identifies as genderfluid and uses they/them pronouns.

“We need to help kids understand every aspect of sexual and gender identity and that asexuality is a thing, too,” Azad said.

What’s next

Kobabe hasn’t paid much attention to the book bans; if anything, e said the attention has helped raise the profile of “Gender Queer” and sell more copies.

Since 2019, Kobabe has produced a zine and is writing a new book with co-author Lucky Srikumar.

To hear em tell it, the next book is about a queer and gender-questioning teenager — an Indian-American protagonist. As of press time, Kobabe and Srikumar had written a full script, crafted thumbnail sketches, put together a pitch for an agent and were working on character-designed concept art. Just about the only thing missing so far is a title.

No, there’s no guarantee that this next book will be as famous — or infamous — as Kobabe’s first one. For em, the response is irrelevant.

“I hope young people read my work and realize it’s OK to be themselves,” e said. “Being honest about your own identity can be the biggest and scariest thing you can do. It’s a huge thing you share, and also something that doesn’t have to be a huge weight you carry. I like to tell young people, if you know who you are, you are the expert on your own identity. Even if people aren’t currently recognizing your preferred identity, it doesn’t change who you are inside.”