By Reatlaretse Menoe
When we speak of representation in children’s literature, many of those conversations highlight the importance of inviting various racial groups into the storyline, individuals from diverse cultural backgrounds, or in some cases, addressing ableism. This is done to educate young people on the importance of understanding that being different from their peers does not excuse any ill-treatment from others, and overall, to treat those around us with kindness—a lesson that is not only exclusive to children. While these are important groups, whose stories deserve to be shared and advocated for, it seems that not much has been written for the queer child, or the child who is raised in a same sex household. In South African children’s literature, these children are very often left unaccounted for, almost as if to say that they do not exist, which further marginalises them and undoes all the work which has been done to normalise queerness in this country.
In their thesis on the representation of LGBTQIA+ individuals in elementary picture books, scholar, Enouch Leung writes, “LGBTQ representation has not been consistently perceived equitably compared to the heterosexual population, often dehumanized or unrealistic. Many LGBTQ students mentioned the need to see more portrayals of LGBTQ families and increasingly positive and realistic portrayals of LGBTQ characters”.
Fortunately, there are, although very few, queer South African authors who have written children’s books with queerness at the centre of the narrative. One such individual is a non-binary self-published author, product manager at 2U, and parent, Mantedieng Mantis Mamabolo Cunningham. In 2019, they wrote and published Boipelo’s Family Tree, a book about a young black girl named Boipelo, who faces bullying at the hands of her peers because she has been raised in a same sex household. As a result of the bullying, Boipelo transfers schools. At the new school, one of the first tasks she and her classmates are assigned to do by their teacher, Miss Tracy, is to compile a family tree so that they may have a visual depiction of their lineage. At this point, the story reaches its climax, as Boipelo’s anxieties resurface, and she is forced to confront the possibility of being mistreated when her family dynamic is revealed. However, instead of the outcome that she had anticipated, what this project did was uncover the reality that no one family is exactly like the other—various dynamics were shown such as single parent households, children who are raised by adoptive parents, and even some who are raised by their grandparents. This revelation of the diversity that existed around her was exactly what she needed in order to embrace her reality with pride—unironically, the protagonist’s name means ‘pride’ in Setswana, so one could say that her name truly became part of her identity.
When asked what inspired them to write the book, Mantis shares that they, “imagined what it would look like if I had a family, and the kinds of conversations we would need to facilitate as a family […] I grew up reading a lot and the one thing that I always knew is that there was no one who looked like me or had my story so it was just reading other people’s stories but never seeing myself in a book. I thought about how that would feel for a child who would be in my household”. The intention of the book was to provide children the opportunity to see characters who look like them, for those whose realities are similar to Boipelo’s to be able to effectively communicate their family dynamic, and so that those children may experience a sense of belonging and recognition of their place in the world. The book’s target audience is mainly 5 to 10 years old, but Mantis suggests that individuals of all age groups are encouraged to read it because there are multiple learning opportunities for all.
One can sit for hours scouring through the internet looking for other books like Boipelo’s Family Tree which are written by South African authors, but the probability of finding more than a handful is very unlikely. This raises the concern that the lack of queer representation may be owed to the deeply traditional and religious society we live in; the fear of rejection or scrutiny individuals face for ‘spreading the gay agenda’ is possibly what restricts other queer writers from writing for children. Mantis, however, expresses that was not their concern, but what they were rather concerned with was gifting the children who needed it with a portion of representation and—at the time—potentially their own future child. When asked about the worries related to how they would be received they answered, “I don’t think I was envisioning other people, and the desired outcome from the external. It was something that I wanted my future child to be proud of, that “my parent could produce something like this!” and providing a tool for them to use in explaining their family dynamic in a non-invasive, non-intimidating way”.
Mantis further discusses relaunching the book as a hard cover at the end of the year, and a rainbow themed collection in the future, where a different lesson may be learned from reading each book.
It is undeniable that Boipelo’s Family Tree is a step in the right direction for queer representation in children’s literature, as it highlights the significance of embracing and normalising diversity. Although the book did not, in Mantis’ words, “spark an explosion”, one can only hope that it serves as a catalyst for other queer writers in the future to consider how necessary certain lessons are for children, and how transformative it is to feel seen and represented in all forms of media.
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