Dolls and Monsters

few years ago, I visited a school in New Jersey to talk to the students about my books. After a forty-five-minute presentation, I invited the kids, as I always did, to ask me questions. I answered a lot of the usual ones, such as “What’s your favorite book?” and “Where do you get your ideas?” Then I called on a kid in the back of the room, and this is what I was asked:

“Are you part man and part woman?”

Well, I can tell you — I’ve never been asked that before. The teachers gasped. This question was potentially even more embarrassing for them than having their students ask authors how much money they make or how old they are. But I must admit, I was delighted by the question, mostly because it was just so . . . intriguing. I should say here that I’ve always felt comfortable being male. When I was growing up, I wasn’t self-conscious about my gender. True, there were many things that “typical” boys liked that held no interest for me. But I never thought of myself or my interests as “girly.” So, with great curiosity, I asked why the student had posed this question.

“While you were telling a story about one of your books, you screamed like a girl.”

Let’s face it: even though it was a silly reason, the kid had asked me a pretty great question. Am I part man and part woman? What does that really mean, anyway? As a kid, I didn’t make much of a distinction between “girl” things and “boy” things. The main distinction I made was between things I liked and things I didn’t like. I liked dolls and dollhouse furniture, but I also had what would be considered more traditional boy interests, such as monsters and magic. (Why such things are assigned to different genders is another essay waiting to be written.) Of course, many of the kids I grew up with were not very gender-neutral. I was lucky that I was good at art. Again and again, it was art that saved me. Mean boys who might have threatened to beat me up asked me instead to paint skulls and flames on their football helmets. This was the closest I ever came to enjoying sports.

Today, I like making books about dolls and monsters and magic, and people will often tell me that some of my books are good for girls, and some of my books are good for boys. This distinction always makes me a little itchy. I know many boys who love my doll books and girls who love my monster and magic books. Even if some gender stereotypes are true for the majority, it doesn’t hold that they are true for everyone. It’s easy to act like the majority represents everyone, but, of course, it doesn’t. As an author and illustrator, I don’t want to make good books for boys, or good books for girls. I just want to make good books.

I recently met a transgender activist named Dean Spade who argues that we should eliminate all references to gender on identification cards such as driver’s licenses and passports. And, in fact, on my driver’s license it says “Sex: Female.” The DMV made the mistake when it issued my license when I turned eighteen, and it has stayed that way ever since. It’s never caused me any problems, and I’ve always wanted to use it at “Ladies Drink Free” nights, although I never have.

Why should it matter what gender we are? Why should my gender be a factor in determining who I am or what I like? Our interests and desires cross assigned gender roles, and now I wish I had said to that kid in New Jersey, “Yes, I am part man and part woman. And so are you.”