Transphobia In The Queer Community & Felix Ever After
In recent years, there has been a shift in the amount of visible queer literature – a complete turnaround from the days when you had to search deep in the back of the library to find a single queer character in a fiction novel. Just last year, I walked into the library of a high school, and there was a copy of I’ll Give You the Sun in the display case. But, what LGBTQ+ literature still lacks is diversity. The stories of queer and trans people of color, let alone those who are black, rarely get the same attention as the Simon and the HomoSapien Agenda’s of the world – also known as the award-winning film adaption Love, Simon.
With Felix Ever After, Kacen Callender isn’t afraid to challenge the norm, and crafted a beautiful web of characters to speak on identity, loving yourself, and accepting love from others. The novel follows Felix, a queer, trans Black teenager attending an elite (code for expensive and white) school for the arts in Brooklyn, New York. If that doesn’t make you stand out from a bunch of privileged white kids, I don’t know what will. When an anonymous culprit, posts Felix’s deadname and old photos of him for everyone to see, he sets off on a mission to find who is responsible.
Despite how wonderful this novel is, I did only pick it up after seeing it posted all across the internet during the month of June. But, now Pride Month is over. And as companies slink back into their usual heteronormative programming, this rainbow-tinted air of inclusivity will dissipate. One month a year to celebrate marriage equality, and shaky LGBTQ+ workplace protections. Thirty days where mainstream publications mourn the loss of lives at Pulse nightclub – and amongst the string of killings of Black folks at the hands of police, declare that #AllBlackLivesMatter. Sadly, the names of Tony McDade, Dominique Fells, Riah Milton and countless other trans folks who have been murdered this year will begin to move to the back of everyone’s minds. It’s an unfortunate reality, but one month is all that most feel is good enough to recognize the existence of the queer and trans people that are interwoven in the fabric of this wonderful country.
But, I must recognize my own failings. Felix Ever After is the first book that I’ve ever picked up on my own, and read for pleasure, that has a protagonist of trans-experience. I’m honestly ashamed of that. What was particularly insightful about Felix Ever After, author Kacen Callender wasn’t afraid to call out transphobia even within the queer community. Too often, even within the LGBTQ+ community, we push the contributions and struggles of our trans brothers and sisters to the back burner – constantly centering those of cis men and women.
I was talking to a cis gay man recently and the conversation moved to trans identity. He used a slur to describe a trans woman, and as I corrected him and quickly ran down all the reasons why he was wrong in what he said, and the correct language to use when referring to people of trans experience – I wracked my brain to figure out why I needed to explain this to a gay man.
Cis gay men are some of the worst perpetrators of transphobia that I’ve ever seen. Often using slight disagreements to taunt, drag, and outright misgender trans woman – whether online, with their friends, or to a trans woman’s face. These same men party with trans women, gag over their outfits and makeup, and some even have trans women in their friend group. But where the disconnect seems to be, is actually seeing their humanity, and seeing them as women. I asked this friend, “You watched Pose, right?” He replied, “Yes.” “And it didn’t make you see trans women as more than men is dresses?” He replied, “No.”
“Gay cis men, especially white men—it’s like they’re one identity away from what they’d consider normal, so they hold that identity over us, enjoy their privilege and power in their little elitist group, try to push the rest of us away. Treat us like dogs.”
So where is the disconnect, what allows someone who faces discrimination based on their identity, to invalidate that of another? Many queer folks have seen the White House lit up like the color wheel, a queer Black film win a Golden Globe, and more cis queer folks coming out – and begin to feel comfortable. We can now disclose that we’re queer without as many repercussions but forget the plight of trans folks who disclose. We ignore the missing names of Black trans women when victims of state sanctioned police violence are listed. We forget trans folks can still be denied healthcare, simply for being them.
Even during a time where cis queer folks are working their way up the ladders of Hollywood, a post-Moonlight America, there is still an acceptable distance at which you can step outside the bounds of cis heteronormativity. Recognizing, as cis queer folks, that we have privilege is uncomfortable. But, in a world that loves to quote Octavia St. Laurent “I want to be somebody”, stan for Laverne Cox, and cry watching Candy on Pose – Black trans women suffer attacks from all sides, and we must hold ourselves accountable for the part we play. We must fight for trans folks, correct those that misgender them, read trans authors, declare that Trans Lives Matter through more than words – but through actions.
