Category Archives: The Boychick’s Bookshelf

The Boychick’s Bookshelf: Sojourner Truth’s Step-Stomp Stride

Welcome to The Boychick’s Bookshelf! In this series, I review children’s books of interest to parents who want to raise children free from and opposed to kyriarchy. These reviews will focus on books which showcase stories and lives beyond the dominant culture of white straight middle-class families, or which contain explicitly anti-kyriarchy messages (anti-racism, anti-ableism, anti-sexism, anti-heterosexism, anti-cissexism, anti-violence, anti-colonialization, and so on).

Sojourner Truth’s Step-Stomp Stride

The Story

Step-Stomp Stride is longer and more involved than most books we read with the Boychick. It starts off with an introduction of Sojourner Truth (“She was big. She was black. She was so beautiful.” is the line that opens the story, and that sold me immediately on the book.) The first half or so of the book goes back to tell her story all the way from her birth as a slave with the name Belle, being sold away from her family (“This was the ugly way of slavery.”), her betrayal by her “master” John Dumont, running waay and gaining her freedom with the help of Quaker Abolitionists, working on her own in New York City, and finally changing her name and setting off to tell her truth.

The next half is a story of her life as a speaker and activist, working against slavery and “the unfair treatment of black people and women.” It bogs down in the middle, particularly the page talking about learning the Bible and dictating her story to Olive Gilbert. The last 10 pages are about the 1851 women’s rights convention where she delivered the extemporaneous speech famously known as “Ain’t I a woman?”.

Intended Audience

This is a very American story. I think it might stand up in other cultures, but relies on a certain fluency in the cultural history of slavery, the underground railroad, North/South dynamics, and, as I go into below, cultural and Biblical Christianity.

Changes in the telling

My only qualm about this book is it — reflecting Sojourner herself and the culture she lived in — assumes one is fluent in and familiar with Christianity and the Bible. The antagonists’ (the male ministers at the meeting in Akron arguing against women’s rights) speeches and Sojourner’s rousing refutation alike reference Adam and Eve, Mary and Jesus, the Bible, and of course God. For a Christian family, no explanations need be made; for a non-Christian family like mine, it works as a starting point for conversations about (the dominant) religion and its role, for good and ill, in culture and politics.

Right on!

I love this book. Like, seriously. How can I not love a book that tells the story of a woman who was “Big. Black. Beautiful True.”?

I love that big and black and beautiful are three words being used together. I love that it talks honestly and simply about “the ugly way of slavery”. I love that equal time and weight are given to her work for women’s rights and abolition, and that they are portrayed as two sides of one important goal: freedom. And I love the words. They bounce, and flow, and stomp, and stride, and as I read them aloud my voice slides into a Southern cadence. I love that the heroine triumphs with words; that truth — and telling it boldly — is so esteemed and celebrated.

But does it appeal? The Boychick’s take

The Boychick likes this book, though it isn’t his favorite. He loses interest a bit in places, and he’s young enough that I feel compelled to point out and name each of the arguments that the ministers give as the offensive fallacies they are, because he doesn’t quite have the ability yet to process that what I am saying now will be refuted (and well) in another two minutes. In another year (he’s three years old), maybe two, I think he’ll “get” a lot more of the book, though he does enjoy it, especially the cadence of the prose, right now. Summary: He approves, but with a recommendation for slightly older children (maybe 4 or 5 and up).

Buy it, Consider it, Skip it, or Compost it?

Buy it, especially if you or your family live in or come from the USA. Read it to your 4 or 5 year old, have your grade-schooler read it to you, or buy it now and save it for when your little one gets older.

Your Take

Have you read Sojourner Truth’s Step-Stomp Stride? What do you think, and what do your kids think? Would you consider acquiring it now? Are there other books that address historical slavery and women’s rights you prefer? Do you know of any other children’s books about Sojourner Truth or her contemporaries, or similar figures from your culture?

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Purchases made through the Amazon links offered here support this blog and compensate — quite minimally — my time and work as a blogger. I encourage you to support local, independent booksellers whenever possible, but if you’re to order online anyway, why not support an independent blogger?

1 Comment | Posted on 16 June 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Body, The Boychick's Bookshelf | Tags: Gender, intersectionalism, misogyny, Race, racism, slavery, USA

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The Boychick’s Bookshelf: Being Friends

Being Friends

Karen Beaumont, pictures by Joy Allen

The Story

In a pleasantly rhyming first person narrative, we learn about two friends: one of whom, a white girl¹, likes jeans and caps and cookies and hanging upside down, the other of whom, a black or multiracial girl, likes gowns and crowns and cake and spinning around, but, as the oft-repeated refrain says, they “both like being friends.”

The art is realistic and delightful, with enough to explore in each scene to engage the reader but simple enough to be easily taken in. As a pet lover, I enjoyed spotting the dog and the cat (the girls’ pets) on nearly every page.

Intended Audience

By placing the narrative in the point of view of the white friend, this book, however subtly, others the black friend, making it a story aimed more at middle class² white families looking to encourage diversity than being a story by and for children of color.

That aside, I would highly recommend it, especially for girls. While they like doing different things, both the femme and the butch³ (the “princess” and the “chimpanzee”) are physically active (playing baseball, jumping on the bed, having pillow fights), academically engaged (“spelling C-A-T” and “counting 1, 2, 3″, and looking at the planets and stars with a telescope), artistic, and courageous (telling each other scary stories). Girls need to hear this message: that being “girly” or “tomboyish” means liking different clothes (and both are perfectly ok!), but it doesn’t have to limit the options of what we can do.

Changes in the Telling

The one page I would give much to be able to change is where the two friends express their “hate” for, respectively, peas and mushrooms, and their mutual desire for pepperoni pizza. I’ve tried to change this in the telling, but the Boychick has already learned to correct me with “hate” of vegetables. Since mushrooms and peas are two of the Boychick’s favorite foods, and he’s yet to have pizza without any vegetables on it (much less with pepperoni), I do not appreciate this book reinforcing the stereotype that kids don’t like veggies. (Some might not, but much as with gender stereotypes I’m convinced that cultural messages, such as this, play a far greater role than we generally acknowledge.)

Not something we can change, but I really wish there were a line explicitly acknowledging the races of the friends. “You are black and I am white” or “Your dad is black, mine is white, but both our moms are Jewish” or something that states what readers young and old will readily notice. Without this explication, the book becomes yet another brick in the “we⁴ don’t talk about race” wall that contributes to racism.

On the Bookshelf Because

Bought for the message of interracial friendship, kept for the messages gender expression diversity not limiting ability, enjoyed for the acknowledgment that everyone has both similarities and differences.

But Does It Appeal? The Boychick’s Take

I cannot tell you how much the Boychick likes this book. What’s more, even after reading it no less than three dozen times (between The Man and myself), we’re not yet sick of it either. The first day we had it, he wanted to read “the string book” (so called for the picture of the friends playing a string game on the cover) over and over again, and a week later, still requests it multiple times in a row. I think it’s safe to say the Boychick approves.

Buy it, Consider it, Skip it, or Compost it?

Consider it. The lack of explicit acknowledgement of race, the comments about food, and the white narrator stop me from wholeheartedly recommending it, but the positive messages on gender expression, the interracial friendship, and how much the Boychick simply adores it means you might want to consider adding it to your own bookshelf.

Your Take

Have you read Being Friends? What do you think, and what do your kids think? Are there other books with similar messages you prefer?

Note: This book was sent to us by a dear reader who purchased it off the Raising My Boychick wishlist.

Nowhere in the text are the children’s genders identified, but the book jacket and reviews state, and the pictures imply, that the two friends are both girls ↩
The children are pictured in a house or in a field, and always with abundant toys ↩
Femme and butch are not my favorite words, but I’m not sure what better ones there are. ↩
“We” meaning white folk. ↩

8 Comments | Posted on 7 May 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Body, The Boychick's Bookshelf | Tags: Gender, gender roles, identity, white privilege

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The Boychick’s Bookshelf: 10,000 Dresses

10,000 Dresses

The Story

Bailey (a white girl of maybe 5-8 years old) dreams of a staircase of 10,000 beautiful dresses, each unusual and unique. She tells her mother, then father, then brother about her dreams, and asks each in turn to help her get one of the dresses she falls in love with, but each time she is rebuffed, because they say she’s a boy and “boys don’t wear dresses.” Discouraged, she runs away (“all the way to the end of the block”), and meets an older girl, Laurel, who is trying to sew dresses, but is disappointed because they each come out the same. Bailey shares one of her ideas with Laurel, and they make two dresses out of mirrors. Laurel declares that Bailey is “the coolest girl I ever met”, and asks Bailey if she can come up with any more dress ideas; Bailey assures her she “can dream up 10,000 dresses!”

Intended Audience

The intended audience for 10,000 Dresses is actually a little unclear to me; obviously transgender girls (those who like dresses, anyway) would appreciate seeing themselves mirrored in print, as Bailey and Laurel are mirrored in the dresses they make for themselves. But Bailey’s family are quite rude, even cruel (especially her brother, who declares her dreams of dresses “Gross!” and threatens her with violence — and for this reason might be unsuitable for survivors of abuse); therefore it doesn’t seem the type of book caring cis parents would buy for their daughter. That said, it serves as a simple, engaging introduction to being trans and the discrimination and misunderstanding transgender children (especially trans girls) can face, and that’s a message children both cis and trans (and as-yet-unknown) could do with hearing.

Also, Bailey and her family are white (which while not a problem by itself, is part of a pattern of the “default human” being white, straight, cis, etc, and only varying from that in one aspect at a time), and thus might be off-putting to children of color — especially trans girls of color, who are looking for role models for themselves.

The publisher suggests the book for 4-8 year olds, but I would suggest it for any child ready to move on from board books.

Changes in the telling

There is little we change or add when we read this out loud, but it is more reinforcing of gender norms than I’m entirely comfortable with; perhaps in an effort to make the message simple and clear for young children, it conflates inherent gender (that Bailey is a girl, despite her assignment at birth as “boy”) with a desire for a particular style of gender expression (wanting to wear dresses). Perhaps most girls — no more so trans girls than cis girls or vice versa — enjoy “girly” things, such as dresses, but I am always concerned when such desires are presented as absolutes: that Bailey wants to wear a dress because she is a girl, and she is a girl because she wants to wear dresses.

Further, although the book does an excellent job of reinforcing the message of Bailey’s girlhood despite her family’s protestations to the contrary, the assertion that “boys don’t wear dresses” goes unchallenged. Thus, in reading it to the Boychick, we usually add something like “Which is wrong, because boys can wear dresses too!” We also point out how cruel it is that they yell at Bailey when they say she doesn’t feel like a boy.

On the Bookshelf Because

There’s not a lot to contrast 10,000 Dresses to; this is the only picture book I have encountered explicitly about (and supportive of) a transgender child, and for that alone I would celebrate it. But further, it tells its message well, unwavering in referring to Bailey as a girl and using the appropriate pronouns (except in direct quotes from her family), and communicating what many adults make into an unnecessarily complex concept in simple, appropriate language, as when Bailey says “But I don’t feel like a boy.”¹

But does it appeal? The Boychick’s take

The first time we tried reading 10,000 Dresses (in the bookstore, along with a dozen other offerings), the Boychick didn’t want to finish listening to it; after we brought it home, however, he has been happy to read it and often requests it. I think one of the biggest barriers he had to it was simply that he’s unfamiliar with the concept of a “dress”, since no one he knows (including me) regularly (or, uh, ever) wears them. The pictures and cadence and repetition of the story draw him in, however, despite that initial barrier.

Buy it, Consider it, Skip it, or Compost it?

Buy it. For all its simplicity and faults, as (one of?) the only books about a transgender girl, and a well written and Boychick-approved one at that, it’s quite worth getting for your own bookshelf.

Your Take

Have you read 10,000 Dresses? What do you think, and what do your kids think? Are there other books with similar messages you prefer? Are there any other books supportive of transgender children you know of?

Warning: Although I’ve included links to the book listing on Amazon (any purchases through which will earn me some small percentage of the sale), I would put a strong trigger warning on that link, especially the reviews, due to much mis-gendering and cissexist language.

I will note however that not feeling like a boy does not necessarily indicate one feels like a girl, and this exchange could be off-putting to children with nonbinary genders. ↩

9 Comments | Posted on 30 April 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Body, Parenting, The Boychick's Bookshelf | Tags: Gender, trans, violence against children

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The Boychick’s Bookshelf: Heather Has Two Mommies

Welcome to the inaugural edition of The Boychick’s Bookshelf! In this series, I review children’s books of interest to parents who want to raise children free from and opposed to kyriarchy. These reviews will focus on books which showcase stories and lives beyond the dominant culture of white straight middle-class families, or which contain explicitly anti-kyriarchy messages (anti-racism, anti-ableism, anti-sexism, anti-heterosexism, anti-cissexism, anti-violence, anti-colonialization, and so on).

I thought it fitting to start this series with a book that, when it was born 21 years ago, created a controversy for its seemingly simple message that families come in many different configurations.

Heather Has Two Mommies

The Story

Heather’s favorite number is two. She has two pets, two arms, and two mommies: Mama Jane and Mama Kate. When Heather starts preschool at three years old, she realizes that other people have daddies and she doesn’t, which starts a conversation about who is in all the other children’s families. The teacher suggests everyone draw a picture of their family, and declares “Each family is special.”

The art is simple black and white (pencil or charcoal drawings, I’d guess) in a realistic style, with contributions from a five year old for the family drawings.

Intended Audience

Heather Has Two Mommies is not just for children with two mothers, although they might especially appreciate seeing a family that looks like theirs (or more so than most books). However, it is very obviously written by and for liberal/crunchy white families. Heather and her mothers are white, most of her classmates are white, and the children’s family portraits were all drawn by the same little girl (I suspect a black or Latino child’s self portrait, like David’s or Juan’s, would not be identical what a white child would draw — but I don’t know). The telling of Heather’s conception (with explicit references to doctor-assisted conception, and sperm, “womb”, and vagina), and home birth (attended by “a special nurse called a mid-wife”) might limit the appeal to families who adopted, birthed in a hospital, or grew by some other means. And while I giggle appreciatively at Mama Kate’s shirt in one frame, which declares “NO NUKES”, it communicates a very particular cultural affiliation that might put off some readers.

Changes in the telling

Perhaps the most obvious fail in Heather Has Two Mommies is the definition of a womb: “A womb is a special place inside a woman where babies grow.” In reading to the Boychick, we drop the special and add the very-important some: “A womb is a place inside some women where babies grow.” I don’t believe that kids are too simple to understand complexities like some, especially given that the topic of the book is that some kids have two mommies, some kids have one, and some kids don’t have any.

I also change around the retelling of Heather’s conception and birth a bit, not because I have a problem with the explicitness, but rather because it bugs me that it doesn’t go far enough. I replace “sperm” with the more accurate “semen” in “[the doctor] put some sperm in Jane’s vagina”, change “egg” to “ovum”, and add “and she didn’t get her period!” on the page about the early signs of Jane’s pregnancy. The Man downplays the “mid-wife”‘s role in the birth, and we’re both annoyed we can’t flip Jane over into a better position than “sitting in bed”.

Overall, however, especially given the length of the book, it requires relatively little on-the-fly rewriting to make it palatable to us.

Right on!

Things Heather Has Two Mommies gets right: the message of diversity of families, that “the most important thing about a family is that all the people in it love each other”¹. Shows families with same-sex parents, single parents, adoptive parents, and step parents. Class of six contains two children of color. One child’s “[brother] uses a wheelchair”, and the family portrait includes a picture of him in his chair, albeit in the background.

But does it appeal? The Boychick’s take

I was surprised how much the Boychick likes this book. Since it was one of his first non-board books, I was not expecting him to sit through it, considering its rather excessive length. But he not only sits through it all, he sometimes requests it multiple times in a row, and still be engaged by it. Perhaps this is because we acquired Heather Has Two Mommies around the time we started talking about sending him to preschool — for the first week after we bought it, he referred to it as “the room book”, a reference, I assume, to the “play group” room Heather goes to. Summary: The Boychick approves.

Buy it, Consider it, Skip it, or Compost it?

Consider it. The old-fashioned art and cultural references, the cissexism, and the explicit conception and birth descriptions mean Heather Has Two Mommies won’t appeal to everyone, but mostly it’s a story that’s held up remarkably well in the 21 years since its first publication.

Your Take

Have you read Heather Has Two Mommies? What do you think, and what do your kids think? Would you consider acquiring it now? Are there other books with similar messages you prefer?

I admit I read that as a prescriptive: it is important that all families love each other. It might, however, be read by a child with an abusive or emotionally unhealthy family as an absolute statement, leaving them to wonder what’s wrong with them that members of their family don’t love each other. ↩