Three Recent Memoirs Chart Queer Families
Three recent memoirs offer differing looks at queer families.
"The Family Outing: A Memoir," by Jessi Hempel (HarperOne). Jessi Hempel came out as a lesbian in college. Then her father was outed as gay, her sister came out as bisexual, and their brother came out as a trans man. Yet their collective queerness is not in itself what caused their White, middle-class family to fracture. Hempel explores what did, a legacy of secrets and past traumas, and how, over years, they managed to heal.
Hempel's mother lived with depression, bound up with a traumatic experience of her youth involving an infamous serial killer. Her behavior was often unpredictable, puzzling and disturbing to young Jessi. Her father, raised by a conservative Christian father, was often absent on business. One can see the cracks in her parents' relationship long before her father came out, and the behaviors the children adopted to protect themselves.
Jessi came out as a lesbian when in college, but it is her father being outed that set their family on the road to being torn apart, even as each person's long-ingrained habits sometimes made things worse. Yet when things seemed irreparable, "improbably, we grew into a family again—a different kind of family, reflecting a new set of values," Hempel tells us.
How they did so forms the weave of the narrative, which Hempel bases on her own remembrances as well as discussions with each of her family members during the COVID pandemic. She tells of her father's coming out with gusto after being outed; her and her sister's involvement with COLAGE (the organization for those with LGBTQ parents); her brother's transition, her own relationships and those of her siblings; and her mother, who attempts to die by suicide, eventually turning what she learns through therapy into a way to help others. She shows how she and her siblings found their ways back to each other and to their parents, and even had children of their own. Perhaps most strikingly, she shows how their being queer, and the personal searching and community connections that this led them to, was ultimately a tool for healing.
This is a memoir of family secrets, hidden, revealed, and reconciled. It is a story of personal growth and change, of grief and healing, family and community. Not all families look like theirs, but it will be a rare person who will not gain something from their story.
"Crybaby," by Cheryl E. Klein (Brown Paper Press). Cheryl E. Klein, a failed perfectionist and successful hypochondriac, wanted a baby with her partner—but instead encountered infertility, miscarriage, breast cancer at age 35, and separation. Despite the betrayals of her own body and the echoes of the past (such as her own mother's death from cancer), Klein shows us, sometimes with dark humor, how she found her way through these traumas, and how they even helped prepare her and her partner for their next challenge, trying to become parents through open adoption.
Klein moves back and forth between her adulthood and childhood, exploring how early experiences shaped her responses to later events, but also how change and reconciliation are possible. She is open about living with depression and anxiety, and is not afraid to expose flaws in her own attitudes—but we also see her gradually learning and trying to work things out with partner, family, and friends. While not all these threads are resolved, we also sense that she has gained wisdom from her experiences. Despite her harrowing history, she leaves us in the end with a sense of hope.
"A Girlhood: Letter to My Transgender Daughter," by Carolyn Hays (Blair). Carolyn Hays' memoir is not the first by a parent of a transgender child, but it is arguably one of the best. The book opens with a knock on the door by a caseworker from the Department of Children and Families, there to investigate an anonymous complaint that they were abusing their transgender child by supporting her as the girl that she is. The knock was a turning point in their lives, but Hays kept the full truth of it from her daughter at the time, afraid of scaring her. Now her daughter is 13, and Hays feels she deserves the "brutal truths" about this—along with "the beautiful truths" of her story as well.
This approach means the book is more than just a memoir. Written as a missive to her daughter, Hays not only tells their family story but also weaves in reflections and information about gender, motherhood, girlhood, privilege, representation, trans history, and social justice. It is both memoir and guidebook, filled with fierce, protecting love. It is, however, not just a book of lessons Hays wants to teach her daughter, but also in many ways a letter of gratitude for all the lessons her daughter has taught her. Whether you are familiar with the challenges of being the parent of a transgender child in the United States today or looking to learn more, you will likely be left breathless by how deftly Hays brings these strands together and how, despite the challenges that they faced, she manages to fill the story with hope and inspiration.
This book feels like a vital read for any parent of a trans child, for anyone involved in advocacy or policy related to transgender people, and even for trans young adults themselves. At the same time, Hays shows how her support and advocacy for her daughter comes deeply from her role as a parent, offering lessons on parenting, love, hope, and self-discovery that go far beyond trans-related topics. Everyone should read this book.
Dana Rudolph is the founder and publisher of Mombian (mombian.com), a GLAAD Media Award-winning blog and resource directory, with a searchable database of 1000+ LGBTQ family books, music, and more.