This year’s Pride celebrations have got me thinking. About things I’ve thought about plenty before: books, kids, my dad — but this year is different.
At the end of March, my father died after a long struggle with dementia which, over a decade, had whittled away at the strength of his brilliant mind. My dad had been a political studies professor, a Winnipeg city councilor, a columnist for the Winnipeg Free Press, a passionate advocate for many social issues, and a devoted supporter of the arts. He loved books; literally thousands of them lined the walls of his home, and he’d read most of them. He was likely the best-read person I’ll ever know.
He was also a gay man. When he came out to his kids in the 80’s, the revelation triggered a tidal wave of shock, disbelief, and ultimately, shame. We had no frame of reference for gay life, for a gay community, and certainly not for gay parents. The concept of a “gay family” was unheard of and unseen in, TV, film, literature or any aspect of popular culture, or in what passed at that time for sex ed at school. I didn’t see a family like mine represented anywhere; it seemed they did not exist. Our ordinary family felt suddenly freakish; I no longer knew where or how we could fit in or belong.
This is in many ways a different time, and it brings me deep satisfaction and gratitude to see families that look a little more like mine among my friends, at my kids’ schools, and in the popular culture around us. While of course it’s not true everywhere, or for everyone, the veil of secrecy and shame has lifted to make space for belonging.
Since January, I’ve had the opportunity to work on a wonderful project with the CDRCP – Child Development Resource Connection Peel. We’ve been engaged in “communities of learning and practice”, dialogues focused on Diversity, Equity & Inclusion in the context of EarlyON centres in the Region of Peel. In our conversations with educators and leaders, we’ve explored the DEI issues that arise. And they are many, given that the Region is one of the most culturally diverse places on the planet.
The challenge that’s been voiced most consistently to us by these educators is that of addressing concerns about children’s books, of who and what is represented in the stories that are displayed for young children to explore. And of these, what seems to arise most often are concerns raised by caregivers and family members about books representing families with same sex parents, and other 2SLGBTQIA+ stories.
In hearing these accounts, it hit me hard, and all at once, how essential, how urgent it is, for children to see themselves – and their families – represented in the world around them, starting in the very earliest years. What would it have meant for my sisters and me, to have seen a book, a film, a TV show, ANY positive depiction of gay life in the culture around us? To see not only that gay parents could exist, but that their families were much like everyone else’s; celebrating holidays, arguing, learning to share, riding bikes, going camping, facing obstacles, loving their pets, their friends, and each other? It would have meant the difference between the anguish of secrecy and the freedom of acceptance. It would have meant a feeling of belonging in the world.
While it’s happened mostly at the local level in Canada, book banning has been on the rise in the US, with the largest percentage of books banned in school libraries being those with 2SLGBTQIA+ characters and storylines. What happens there affects writers and books here – and we must remain vigilant and hold our local governments and school boards accountable.
I’ve found myself deeply moved by the commitment of the EarlyON educators to ensure that every child who comes through their doors can see themselves represented; through the languages spoken, the celebration of holidays, the songs that are sung, and oh! above all, the books on the shelves. These are the cues to let a child know that they are not only welcome, but that they – and their families – belong here.
My father passed on his love of reading to my sisters and me, and we in turn have tried to pass this on to our kids. Dad loved nothing more than reading to his grandkids, which he did with enthusiasm and joy. And so, as this year’s Pride celebrations come to an end, I am celebrating the love of books, the power of being seen, and the deep comfort of belonging. And I am thinking of you Dad, with so much love.
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