Read more
Zusatztext “I wish I had read this book ten years ago–or, better yet, I wish everyone around me had read it. Bird is a gentle and charming narrator, weaving the story of his own life together with enough educational asides to ensure that all of his readers can follow along. Sorted is thoughtful and affirming in its examination of evolving trans narratives and terminology, honoring both the past and present of trans identity. A compassionate, tender-hearted, and accessible book for anyone who might need a hand to hold as they walk through their own transition or the transition of a loved one.” —Austin Chant, author of Peter Darling Informationen zum Autor Jackson Bird is a YouTube creator and LGBTQ+ advocate dedicated to demystifying the transgender experience. His TED Talk “How to talk (and listen) to transgender people” has been viewed over a million times. Jackson is a recipient of the GLAAD Rising Star Digital Innovator Award and lives in New York City. You can follow him online @JackIsNotABird. Klappentext "Internet creator and activist Jackson Bird demystifies the transgender experience by sharing his own story, while debunking trans history milestones and educating readers with Transgender 101 facts"-- Leseprobe Chapter One: Sorted CHAPTER ONE sorted It’s a testament to the all-consuming pervasiveness of gender in our society that the very first thing we do to babies is sort them into genders. In fact, for most, it’s the very first words ever spoken about you. When you’re born, the doctor or midwife shouts, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” and from color-coded hospital hats to the balloons greeting your arrival in the recovery room, your life is predetermined. My parents didn’t want to know the genders of me or my brother before we were born. With my older brother, my mom was pretty certain throughout her pregnancy she’d be having a boy, but when he finally arrived after an agonizing thirty-six-hour labor, she didn’t ask about his gender. The very first thing she said as my newborn brother was swaddled into a blanket was, “Is the cafeteria still serving food?” My mom, God love her, knew that getting a solid meal was way more important for her capacity of being a good mother than knowing whatever gender her baby apparently was. Me and Mom Still remembering how hungry she’d been after my brother’s birth, she took no chances with my labor. When her water broke on a sunny Kalamazoo afternoon about a week before my expected due date of Mother’s Day, she was in the kitchen fixing lunch for herself and my brother. “Austin,” she calmly told the two-year-old as she chopped watermelon, “we’re going to have to go to the hospital soon to have a baby, but first we’re going to eat lunch.” She finished with the watermelon, spread mayonnaise on their bologna sandwiches, and they sat down to enjoy their lunch while my dad sped home from work to drive them to the hospital. As determined as she was to get one last good meal in, by the time my dad arrived, my mom admitted that things seemed to be moving fast. The three of them headed to the hospital as my mom’s contractions came closer together. There had been a whole list of friends and family members who volunteered to watch Austin during the birth, but my unexpectedly early arrival on a Friday afternoon meant nearly everyone on the list was busy. The person able to get there the quickest was my dad’s mom, coming from a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. So Austin joined them in the hospital room, where the nurses turned on the TV to pass the time and my mom did her best to hide her pain from the toddl...
