I read this “memoir-manifesto” during Banned Books Week, and at one point while I was looking up something about it, I saw that a school board member had filed a complaint with the sheriff’s office after finding this book in a few school libraries. Yes – she basically called the cops on a book. And an important book, at that. It was a stark reminder of why it’s so important to read banned books, not just during one week in October, but year round.
And this book is important because of what it says and who it’s speaking to. As a middle-aged, straight, cisgender, White woman, this book likely didn’t affect me the way it would Black and queer individuals, especially those who are younger or still exploring their identities and figuring out their place in the world. It is so important for people to have access to this book to see that they aren’t alone and what a path for them might have the potential to look like. For me, it was mostly educational. I learned more about the Black community and especially the intersection of queerness with that community.
The writing is very accessible. Johnson is honest and vulnerable but also sensitive to how they are writing about certain people from their own life. This includes family members, and one aspect of the book that really stood out to me is how Johnson was surrounded by so much love from their family. Well before they came out, they were loved for who they are, even if they were different from how society expects boys to behave. That doesn’t mean life was easy for them. It wasn’t. In fact it was traumatic at times. But family is a strong through-line in the book.
Johnson touches on some sensitive, challenging topics, particularly incidents of molestation, so you may need to be in the right head space for this. But for anyone who feels ready, I absolutely recommend this book. It’s informative and a great way to build empathy for others.