100 Books Like Sylvia and Marsha Start a Revolution!

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.

A few years before I came out, I remember marveling at the boldness of certain women like Frida Kahlo, Toni Morrison, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, who expressed so freely. With jealous awe I wished I could do that. But how could I? I came from a family of clergy people! In time, however, those brave women inspired me as I came out loud. The remarkable autobiographical story of Congresswoman Davids has that same power. She grew up always speaking, yet also listening, including to those often ignored. A lesbian and member of the Ho Chunk Nation, which means People of the Big Voice, she saw the lack of minority representation in Congress and boldly stepped forward. Now she listens and raises her Big Voice loud in service of others! So inspiring!

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! 

This picture book shares the heartwarming yet tragic story of Harvey Milk in an accessible and playful way, bright colourful illustrations reveal the story of an activist and their mission for equality and his search for a symbol of the LGBTQ+ family. The story of the Rainbow Flag is an essential element of LGBTQ+ history and this is told in a way that doesn’t alienate the reader. The simple quest for equality is at the heart of our quest for acceptance and I believe early exposure to this story – to all – helps plant a seed of understanding in every reader. 

This book portrays Harvey Milk as a deeply inspirational figure who rose at a time when many LGBTQ individuals remained in the closet because they were shunned by society. Milk became the nation’s first openly gay elected city official when he was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, and as such, he had a platform to become a key figurehead and leader in the gay rights movement in this country. Milk was a fearless and charismatic leader and role model to millions of people, fueling one of the most influential political and sociological movements of the late 20th century. Milk’s influence remains today.

I found Milk to be incredibly brave. He knew his fight for gay and lesbian rights put him in physical danger, and his fears, tragically, were realized when he was assassinated by a fellow city supervisor. Author Randy Shilts details Milk’s triumphs and struggles in… show more.

This book, perhaps the most straightforwardly peace and conflict book on my list, looks at the global queer Palestinian solidarity movement.

Atshan writes, "if we pay close attention to them, it becomes clear that the activists sustaining the queer Palestinian movement along with other queer Palestinians attempting to lead their everyday lives have been engaged in compelling epistemological work to make sense of their experiences and to communicate those insights to one another and to the world."

I value this book because it considers the complexity of how queer Palestinian activists engage in boycotts and education campaigns about sexuality while also confronting campaigns of Pinkwashing from Israel. Atshan shows how queer Palestinians are refusing Zionism on their own terms, in the face of empire.

Fieseler brings his journalistic eye to this forgotten 1973 tragedy when an LGBTQ social club in New Orleans was set ablaze, killing 32 people. I appreciate how Fieseler not only details the fire and the mainstream media’s utter disregard for the crime but, more importantly, how he focuses on the individuals who perished and those who survived, situating their stories within the burgeoning LGBTQ rights movement of the era.

I’ve been haunted by this book since the first time I read it. Its power rests in its narrative force of witnessing and remembrance and the immediacy of Fieseler’s prose. 

In 1989, in honor of the twentieth anniversary of Stonewall, a group of ACT UP members decided to form a study group to learn about the history of queer activism. Surprisingly, I could find almost nothing about the gay liberation movement until I stumbled upon The Gay Militants in a used bookstore. I was amazed at my good fortune. Here was a detailed, first-hand, and contemporaneous history of the first year of gay liberation after Stonewall, filled with original documents, outrageous quotes, and the campy exhilarating joy of activism. I couldn’t believe how many of our actions (and internal conflicts) echoed those of these early groups and how many of our enemies remained the same.

I love this book because it is a nearly unbelievable tale of human resilience and a timely reminder that not so long ago, queers had bigger problems than micro-aggressions and pronouns. Jim Foshee had the gay life you don’t want. By age fourteen, he had been abused by his mother, his step-father, a reform school, a mental hospital, police, older kids at a juvenile jail, and a judge.

The only love he had received was from a drag queen who had taken him off the street and her partner, and for this, they were tried and nearly imprisoned. Jim was then sentenced to five years in a Texas prison, where the abuse reached an entirely new level. Incredibly, he managed to put together a stable life, co-found Denver’s first LGBT community center, and spend his later years researching gay history.