Ah, Writing for Queer Teens of Color as a Black Lesbian. A guest post that takes itself so seriously, I half-expected it to come with a cape and a monologue about saving the world. Don’t get me wrong—this is an important topic, and Shelly Page clearly has her heart in the right place. But sometimes, even the noblest of efforts deserve a side-eye, particularly when they meander through clichés, serve lukewarm takes as groundbreaking insights, and awkwardly elevate personal anecdotes to universal truths.
So buckle up for a no-holds-barred, takedown. Let’s dive into this mix of earnest advocacy, preachiness, and just enough self-congratulation to make you wonder if we’re here for the audience or the author.
The Sob Story Opening: A Tale as Old as Time
Shelly starts by recounting her childhood disappointment at not seeing herself in books. Groundbreaking stuff—who among us hasn’t heard this lamentation a thousand times? Yes, representation in literature is vital. Yes, the lack of diverse characters in fantasy and adventure stories is a problem. But must we endure yet another personal anecdote about how “none of the magical adventure books recommended to me had main characters that looked like me”?
Here’s the thing: this isn’t news. Nor does Shelly offer a fresh angle on the issue. We’ve heard it before, and we’ll hear it again, because the publishing industry is still woefully behind. But at least give us something new. Perhaps a searing critique of how systemic racism intersects with the commodification of diversity? Or even a cheeky observation about how publishers slap rainbow flags on book covers to distract from paper-thin plots? Instead, we get… this.
The Post-College Revelation: Who Didn’t See This Coming?
Shelly came out in college and suddenly realized there were even fewer books about queer Black women. Shocking! Who could have predicted that the Venn diagram of “Black protagonists” and “queer protagonists” would resemble a pair of binoculars?
What’s frustrating here isn’t the lack of representation—again, a valid point—but the way this revelation is framed as though it’s some kind of epiphany. Shelly, you are not the first person to connect these dots. The energy you spend rehashing your discovery could’ve been better spent articulating solutions or critiquing the specific barriers to entry for QPOC authors.
Publishing Is Broken? You Don’t Say!
The post gains some momentum when Shelly touches on the dismal statistics: only 5-9% of books are published by Black authors, and the percentage of queer Black authors is even smaller. Yes, we know. Publishing is a hot mess of gatekeeping and tokenism. But Shelly doesn’t interrogate the deeper reasons behind these numbers. Why not name names, call out major publishers, or examine how capitalism incentivizes shallow diversity initiatives? Instead, we get vague hand-wringing about how publishing “is not much different” from the law when it comes to systemic gaps. A bold statement, considering publishing rarely ends with someone unhoused.
Night of the Living Queers: A Title Too Good for Its Content?
Shelly co-edited Night of the Living Queers, a YA horror anthology described as a celebration of queerness and ethnicity. It’s great that this book exists, but the way Shelly talks about it makes me wonder if the stories are as one-note as her pitch. “Halloween can be more than just candies and frights”? Oh, please. Anyone who’s ever been to a drag show or a queer Halloween party already knows that. Halloween has been the queerest holiday on the calendar since forever. You’re not exactly breaking new ground here, Shelly.
And the claim that the book “offers a chance for both the writer and readers to be authentic without fear of judgment or reproach”? Nice sentiment, but it feels like a canned marketing line. Authenticity doesn’t come from being patted on the head; it comes from wrestling with uncomfortable truths and breaking narrative molds. Does this anthology do that? Hard to tell from the bland description.
Brewed with Love: Diversity in a Blender
Next, we’re introduced to Brewed with Love, a magical mystery featuring a Black lesbian witch and her Mexican-American crush. It sounds charming enough, but Shelly’s description leans so hard into metaphor that it’s hard to take the story seriously. Wolves as a metaphor for otherness? How original. Did you also include an allegory about a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon, or was that too on-the-nose?
Shelly tries to elevate the book by emphasizing its “empowerment” angle. Sage, the protagonist, stands up for her identity and her community. Cool. But the way Shelly presents this feels so heavy-handed, you can practically hear the anvil drop. Stories about empowerment work best when they’re organic, not when they come with a neon sign that says, “MESSAGE!”
Representation: The Be-All, End-All?
Shelly’s pièce de résistance is her impassioned argument that representation matters. And she’s right—it does. Seeing yourself in books can validate your existence and inspire you to dream bigger. But Shelly oversells the idea, treating representation as though it’s the solution to all societal ills. A book might make a teenager feel seen, but it won’t dismantle systemic oppression or fix the publishing industry.
Moreover, the way Shelly positions her own work as life-changing feels… presumptuous. Yes, your books are important, but let’s not pretend they’re the literary equivalent of curing cancer. The idea that a single story can “change a life” is romantic, sure, but it also oversimplifies the complexities of identity, resilience, and community.
The Verdict: Well-Meaning but Meh
Shelly Page’s guest post is like a well-meaning casserole: comforting, familiar, but ultimately forgettable. Her intentions are good, and her advocacy for QPOC representation is commendable. But her arguments are so predictable, her anecdotes so overused, and her tone so self-congratulatory that it’s hard to feel truly moved or inspired.
If Shelly wants to write for queer teens of color, great. But next time, I hope she ditches the clichés and digs deeper. Less patting yourself on the back, Shelly, and more pushing the conversation forward. Representation is important, but it’s only the beginning. Let’s talk about how to create systemic change, challenge entrenched power structures, and hold gatekeepers accountable. Now that would be a post worth reading.
If you wish to read the article this post is referencing, then head over to: https://teenlibrariantoolbox.com/2025/01/14/writing-for-queer-teens-of-colors-as-a-black-lesbian-a-guest-post-by-shelly-page/
