Books like Sharice's Big Voice — picked by fans

I’ll never forget reading this tale of a blue crayon in a red wrapper, struggling to draw red. I stood in the children’s book shop, a grown lesbian, feeling the hair on my arms rise, my eyes fill. This story is full of humor as fellow crayons and art supplies offer advice: “he wasn’t warm enough” “He’s got to press harder.” But his struggle also breaks our hearts: “I think he’s lazy,” one crayon says. “The masking tape thought he was broken inside.” The dread of feeling that you can’t be what everyone wants is visceral. Clearly a perfect allegory for gender identity, this story also rang through me. Then, Red tries to draw an ocean. And “It was easy!” Soon he was “really reaching for the sky.”

As a pastor’s kid, this light, lyrical book about a church community gathering awakens my earliest memories: the bells and banners, candles and choir, warm greetings, and toddler wiggles. This community offers something many of us lacked: “A church for all!” From the first image of a mixed-race queer family waking early for church to the assembling “Weak and healthy/ Neat and messy/ Poor and wealthy/ Plain and dressy” chatting and worshiping together—this brightly illustrated book captures a true spirit of inclusion. Like many queer people, I had to leave my first faith community. Later I was amazed to find houses of faith like this one. I even married a pastor. Young me couldn’t have imagined living out, opening a service with a book like A Church for All.

In this gorgeous, accessible story, Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson, two transgender women meet on the street and become fast friends. They never knew whether they would eat, find shelter, or face violence from "Alice in the blue dress" (the police). Yet their friendship and generosity radiate throughout this story. They freely give their last dollar. Worry about kids without roofs. On Marsha’s birthday in 1969, they begin the “beautiful” revolution at the Stonewall Inn by refusing to be arrested for wearing dresses. This courage, this determination to create safe housing, this joyful zeal for equality inspires me still. Transgender people still face so much danger, something I've learned from people I care about. Sylvia and Marsha inspire me to revolt with love.

A life-long lover of dresses that “swish” and “crinkle,” I’m in complete solidarity with Morris Micklewrite in his choice of the tangerine dress and shoes that “click” at dress-up time. But his classmates, hung up on narrow gender rules, don’t agree. Yet this story is not about Morris’s gender. It’s about his fondness for a color that reminds him of tigers and the sun, his love of playing spaceship and visiting elephants in his imagination. Even before I understood I was queer, I gravitated to peers who I now know are queer, too. Yet we bonded over play, singing, imagining adventures together! That’s what mattered. By this story’s end, some of Morris’s peers also realize it’s not gender rules that matter, but the greatness of the adventures you share! 

I. Love. Slow. Burn. And this burn is delicious. I also love a bit of a celebrity romance. And a bit of a will-they-won't-they-should-they-even?

There is a delicate balance to strike when one of the MCs is the boss, and Wilsner pulls it off effortlessly. Jo and Emma are flawed and authentic, and so in love with each other they can't even see it. A sapphic romance with bi-representation is my favorite, and the payoff at the end? Perfection.

Even though this is a work of anthropology, it also provides unique insights into rural history. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Margery Wolf did fieldwork in a poor village in rural Taiwan. At that time, modernization was just beginning to affect the countryside, so most aspects of village life were still traditional. Although Taiwanese society differed from the mainland in certain ways, in most aspects of life there carried on the traditions of Chinese village life. This book looks at rural society from a female perspective. Due to poverty, both women and men had few options. They did whatever it took to survive. Many of the people the author interviewed seem very discontent with their lives, but they usually had no other choice.

I love this book because, ultimately, it’s about the portrayal of a daughter revealing her mother’s lifelong secret. The author describes her mother’s struggles in Iran before the author was born. 

The book shows how secretive the Iranian culture can be and, the downsides and negative aspects of a patriarchal society, and the long-term damage it can cause.

I really learnt a lot from this book! It is an important contribution to the debates about women’s labour, accumulation of capital, and extraction of resources from the global south.

It traces the social origins of the sexual division of labour, which Mies called 'housewifization' (not my favourite word, but it captures something about the way in which the term housewife hides women’s labour!). Layering this with the history of colonialism and the new international division of labour, Mies is able to locate the history of capitalism not only in the roots of colonialism but also in the gendered division of labour–capitalist patriarchy.

This is now a classic in feminist political economy literature.

Part of Benson’s much-loved Lucia series. Gentler than Saki, this comedy of manners (also set in a bygone England) is deliciously entertaining, with its eccentric characters gleefully etched. Miss Mapp herself – prim and genteel but with lethal eyes – is a social snooper par excellence, and whose insidious wiles and steely shafts create havoc among the gossiping residents of sedate Tilling (firmly based on the ancient Sussex town of Rye, once home to Henry James.) As they negotiate the delicate snares of bridge, golf, and “charming” tea parties, cronies and quarries alike are pawns in her ruthless game of one-upmanship. It is a game she plays with relish and practised ease... that is until, elsewhere in the series, she is upstaged by the awesome Lucia. Hilarious.

Wanderers is not a memoir. Andrews, who is a professor of literature in the UK, presents ten chapters on ten famous women writers who also walked.

I found it interesting to learn how some of the women left town before dawn to walk so that they would not be seen. Society at that time felt it was not safe for a woman to walk by herself. I was amazed at some of the distances that they walked; for example, in the early 1800s Ellen Weeton walked 35 miles in a day. 

I found the interconnection of walking to help writing and writing about walking fascinating. I will return to read this again and again.