by Maia Kobabe
graphic novel
Maia Kobabe, who uses e/em/eir pronouns, shares eir personal journey as an asexual and nonbinary person. Growing up in a time that didn’t have the language, resources, or community of a genderqueer movement that exists today, Maia had to struggle on eir own to understand eir gender, dating, pronouns and feeling at home in eir body.
Maia’s account of eir life story is raw and boldly honest, explaining how e went through several stages of self discovery and understanding, finally embracing a gender identity and sexuality that fit for em – and then the stages of asking others to accept em as well. Eir honesty and sometimes self deprecating amusement of eir past helps lighten the pervasive struggle and confusion e endured on a daily basis. E shares to a degree that many of us might not be comfortable exposing to the masses, regardless of our gender identity or sexuality, but e does so to help educate others about the experience of being genderqueer in a society rooted in a binary, even though acceptance of multiple genders exist across many cultures and religions throughout history. (Maia knew e was stepping into the limelight, welcoming questions with an adorable “I did volunteer for this” in an interview.)
As Maia chronicles eir childhood through becoming an adult, e shares eir confusion regarding dating and relationships (e first identifies as bisexual), fantasies that e later could define as kinks, whether e is transgender or something else, and the overall erasure of nonbinary folks in American society. This is so important for those who might assume being asexual means no relationship with sex at all. Similarly, Maia honestly portrays eir family as open, honest and understanding, but is also unflinching about eir family’s struggle to accept em at times.
The most devastating part of the book for me was Maia’s recounting of eir traumatizing appointments with the gynecologist, a searing look into how the medical world was (ans probably still is) woefully ill equipped to be compassionate and understanding towards genderqueer folks. These pages took my breath away and brought me to tears. Even though Maia is able to better express emself on the second visit, the appointment is still awful and dehumanizing.
But along with eir overall journey, Maia also shares eir love of slash fan fiction, fantasy books and becoming an artist. Gender and sexuality are, of course, formative to all of our identities, but Maia is sure to include eir whole sense of self. Maia was consistently surrounded by meaningful friendships and a supportive family, particularly Maia’s (also queer!) sister Phoebe who helps eir with an underwear issue.
Maia’s art feels simple but realistic enough to look rooted in reality. The layouts range from the standard nine-panel progression to beautiful and creative layouts as well as one page spreads. E uses block lettering that feels like handwriting that sometimes loops into cursive during important moments. Maia grew up on a 120 acre property in Northern California, and e often uses metaphors rooted in nature to explain eir struggles. The palette is mostly colorful and bright with lots of greens and yellows.
This book helps cis and non-asexual folks like myself start to understand how pervasive, destructive and literally painful the gender binary is to folks who don’t fit in that binary (which, thanks to my privilege, is more everywhere than I ever realized, and must be destroyed immediately). How it affects not just dating and romantic relationships, as some might assume, but every moment of one’s life, living in one’s body, using and hearing pronouns that don’t fit one’s sense of self. And I can’t even imagine how much Maia’s honest story means to genderqueer folks, who may have felt just as alone and confused as Maia before picking up eir book. Being seen and not feeling alone is powerful, as all minorities will attest to – and Maia also experiences emself.
Non-binary pronouns are still relatively new (particularly those outside they/them/their), Maia’s memoir is an important guide for non-genderqueer and/or non-asexual folks on how to empathize and be better allies, even if you’re queer; for parents who want to be sensitive to providing their children spaces to explore their gender; for medical professionals; and for all genderqueer folks to feel seen and heard.
PS – I did my best to use the Spivak pronouns but it’s new to me – my apologies if I used incorrect pronouns, please let me know in the comments if I did!
Reading Art 