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New trans memoir ‘Fairest’ full of unexpected intersections

Beautiful, riveting autobiography full of pathos, humor

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Fairest: a memoir book review, gay news, Washington Blade
(Image courtesy Viking)

‘Fairest: A Memoir’

By Meredith Talusan

Viking

May 26

$27

320 pages

“I contain multitudes,” queer poet Walt Whitman famously wrote in his poem “Song of Myself.”

Meredith Talusan, author of the recently released “Fairest: A Memoir,” who is a Filipino-American, trans and has albinism, contains more multitudes than most anyone you’ll ever meet.

In “Fairest,” a coming-of-age story, Talusan, the founding executive editor of “them,” Condé Nast’s LGBTQ digital platform, takes us on a journey from the Philippines to California.

Talusan toggles between moments in her life — from her childhood as a boy in the Philippines to her arrival as a woman at her Harvard queer alumni reunion. This could have been a muddled mess, but “Fairest” has the beauty and the gender-bending of Virginia Woolf — if Orlando were attuned to our ideas of race, sexuality, disability and gender.

Talusan was born as a boy with albinism named Marc in a village in the Philippines. Her people believed pregnant women shouldn’t spend too much time in the sun, she writes, “for fear that their baby would be born anak araw, a sun child, the strangest creature whose skin was so pale it glowed, and who … destined to be nearly blind, an affront against nature.”

Yet, Talusan’s grandmother Nanay Coro believed her albinism was a blessing, not a curse. Because, “I was destined to live in America, the richest of countries, where Mama’s father, Lolo Bert, had settled, full of people who looked like me,” Talusan writes.

In some cultures, people with albinism are shunned or killed. Yet, though, Talusan knew early on that she was different, she wasn’t shunned. When Spain and the United States colonized the Philippines, racism flourished. Because of internalized colorism, Talusan was seen as special because her skin is so light. Her grandmother assured her, “that I was meant for a better future than her and our ancestors, farmers who had tiled soil in the fields surrounding our village for generations,” she writes.

“This is because you are fair and beautiful,” her grandmother told Talusan.

As a boy called Marc, Talusan has crushes on other boys. At 11, Marc is “hopelessly smitten” with Sammy but knows that most boys don’t love other boys. At the same time, Talusan is enthralled by the singer Lea Salonga who performs in the musical “Miss Saigon.” Marc thinks how wonderful it would be to be a woman like Salonga’s character Kim in “Miss Saigon” who is “capable of getting a rugged and kind (American} man to fall in love with her.”

“Fairness” is a complex tale of passing, performance and revelation. As a young boy, Talusan learns English and American mannerisms by watching Ricky Schroder in the 1980s sitcom “Silver Spoons.” Soon, Talusan, age 7, is appearing as the son on “Bisoy: Ang Daddy Kong Baduy,” a Filipino sitcom.

At 15, Talusan and her family immigrate to California. Her father isn’t around much and her mother spends most of her time gambling. A scholarship to Harvard is Talusan’s escape from poverty and parental negligence. At Harvard from 1993-1997, Talusan is an out gay man. Talusan takes seminars that deconstruct queer literature, participates in a “kiss-in” against the religious right and engages in the irony of cool gay 1990s men.

Yet Talusan is aware that she’ll often encounter racism and prejudice if people realize she’s Asian or feel she’s too feminine. “Our looks determined our place in the pecking order and…our lack of attractiveness had so much to do with our race and femininity,” she thinks when she’s at her 1997 Harvard queer alumni reunion.

Talusan finds love and commitment with Ralph, an MIT professor. The most poignant moment in “Fairest” is when Ralph and Talusan break up when Talusan begins to transition. Though they’re still friends, Ralph told her that he “didn’t see the person he fell in love with when he looked at me,” Talusan writes.

Despite this sad moment, Talusan doesn’t regret her transition. She becomes open about being trans.

“I had a hunch that becoming a woman would end up being better and turned out to be right,” she writes.

“Fairest” is a beautiful, riveting read. Perfect for these times.

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I’m a lesbian and LGBTQ books would have changed my life

Misguided parents pushing Montgomery County court case

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(Photo by gOrlica/Bigstock)

As a child born in Maryland in the 80’s, I had very few LGBTQ+ role models other than Elton John and Ellen DeGeneres. In high school, I went through the motions of going out on Friday nights with boyfriends and dancing with them at prom, but I felt nothing. I desperately wanted to fit in, and it took me until my senior year of high school to finally admit to myself that I was different – and that it hurt too much to hide it anymore. 

When I think back on those years, I feel the heartache and pain all over again. I used to lay awake at night begging God not to make me gay. When a boy on my Cross Country team accused me and my friends of being lesbians, I scoffed and said, “You wish.” I hid my true self in cheap wine coolers while my hate for myself festered. 

I found healing in books, my creative writing class, and my school’s literary magazine. Writing allowed me to hold up a mirror to myself and see that I could be many things: a loving daughter and sister, a supportive friend, a dedicated member of the Cross Country team, and also a girl who wanted a girlfriend. In my love poems, I evolved from ambiguous pronouns to distinctly feminine ones. When I felt ready to tell my best friend, I showed her one of my poems. To my surprise, the world did not end. She smiled and said, “It’s a good poem. Are you ready to go to the mall?” 

I’m one of the lucky ones. When I finally did come out to my parents, they told me they would always love me and want me to be happy. That’s not the case for more than 40% of LGBTQ+ youth, who are kicked out of their homes after they find the courage to tell their family who they truly are. We are facing a mental health epidemic among LGBTQ+ youth, with 41% seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year, the vast majority living in homes that aren’t accepting. 

Some of the dissenting parents in Mahmoud vs. Taylor argue that inclusive books aren’t appropriate for elementary school kids. To clarify, these books are simply available in schools – they aren’t required reading for anyone. There is nothing sexual or provocative about stories like “Uncle Bobby’s Wedding” or “Jacob’s Room to Choose” that send a very simple, non-political message: We all are different, and we all deserve to be treated with respect. Opting out of books that show diversity, out of fear that it might “make kids gay” fails to recognize a fundamental truth: art, pop culture, even vegan food cannot make someone gay. I was born this way. There were times I wished that I wasn’t, and that was because I didn’t have books like these telling me it was OK to be who I am. 

I wonder how many parents opting out of these books will end up having a LGBTQ+ child. It is both horrible and true that these parents have two choices: love and accept your LGBTQ+ child, or risk losing them. Now that I’m a parent myself, I feel more than ever that our one aim in parenthood is to love our kids for exactly who they are, not who we want them to be. 

For several years, a grocery store in Silver Spring, Md., displayed a poem I wrote for my mother in my school’s literary magazine. I wrote about how she taught me that red and blue popples can play together, and that Barbie doesn’t need Ken to be happy. I imagine that maybe, a girl passing through the store read that poem and saw a glimpse of herself inside. That spark of recognition – of I’m not the only one – is all I wanted as a child. I was able to find my happiness and my community, and I want every LGBTQ+ child to be able to do the same. 


Joanna Hoffman was born and raised in Silver Spring, Md. She is the author of the poetry collection ‘Running for Trap Doors’ (Sibling Rivalry Press) and is the communications director for LPAC, the nation’s only organization dedicated to advancing the political representation of LGBTQ+ women and nonbinary candidates. 

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A boy-meets-boy, family-mess story with heat

New book offers a stunning, satisfying love story

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(Book cover image courtesy of Random House)

‘When the Harvest Comes’
By Denne Michele Norris
c.2025, Random House
$28/304 pages

Happy is the bride the sun shines on.

Of all the clichés that exist about weddings, that’s the one that seems to make you smile the most. Just invoking good weather and bright sunshine feels like a cosmic blessing on the newlyweds and their future. It’s a happy omen for bride and groom or, as in the new book “When the Harvest Comes” by Denne Michele Norris, for groom and groom.

Davis Freeman never thought he could love or be loved like this.

He was wildly, wholeheartedly, mind-and-soul smitten with Everett Caldwell, and life was everything that Davis ever wanted. He was a successful symphony musician in New York. They had an apartment they enjoyed and friends they cherished. Now it was their wedding day, a day Davis had planned with the man he adored, the details almost down to the stitches in their attire. He’d even purchased a gorgeous wedding gown that he’d never risk wearing.

He knew that Everett’s family loved him a lot, but Davis didn’t dare tickle the fates with a white dress on their big day. Everett’s dad, just like Davis’s own father, had considerable reservations about his son marrying another man – although Everett’s father seemed to have come to terms with his son’s bisexuality. Davis’s father, whom Davis called the Reverend, never would. Years ago, father and son had a falling-out that destroyed any chance of peace between Davis and his dad; in fact, the door slammed shut to any reconciliation.

But Davis tried not to think about that. Not on his wedding day. Not, unbeknownst to him, as the Reverend was rushing toward the wedding venue, uninvited but not unrepentant. Not when there was an accident and the Reverend was killed, miles away and during the nuptials.

Davis didn’t know that, of course, as he was marrying the love of his life. Neither did Everett, who had familial problems of his own, including homophobic family members who tried (but failed) to pretend otherwise.

Happy is the groom the sun shines on. But when the storm comes, it can be impossible to remain sunny.

What can be said about “When the Harvest Comes?” It’s a romance with a bit of ghost-pepper-like heat that’s not there for the mere sake of titillation. It’s filled with drama, intrigue, hate, characters you want to just slap, and some in bad need of a hug.

In short, this book is quite stunning.

Author Denne Michele Norris offers a love story that’s everything you want in this genre, including partners you genuinely want to get to know, in situations that are real. This is done by putting readers inside the characters’ minds, letting Davis and Everett themselves explain why they acted as they did, mistakes and all. Don’t be surprised if you have to read the last few pages twice to best enjoy how things end. You won’t be sorry.

If you want a complicated, boy-meets-boy, family-mess kind of book with occasional heat, “When the Harvest Comes” is your book. Truly, this novel shines.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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Chronicling disastrous effects of ‘conversion therapy’

New book uncovers horror, unexpected humor of discredited practice

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(Book cover image courtesy of Jessica Kingsley Publishers)

‘Shame-Sex Attraction: Survivors’ Stories of Conversion Therapy’
By Lucas F. W. Wilson
c.2025, Jessica Kingsley Publishers
$21.95/190 pages

You’re a few months in, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.

You made your New Year’s resolutions with forethought, purpose, and determination but after all this time, you still struggle, ugh. You’ve backslid. You’ve cheated because change is hard. It’s sometimes impossible. And in the new book, “Shame-Sex Attraction” by Lucas F. W. Wilson, it can be exceptionally traumatic.

Progress does not come without problems.

While it’s true that the LGBTQ community has been adversely affected by the current administration, there are still things to be happy about when it comes to civil rights and acceptance. Still, says Wilson, one “particularly slow-moving aspect… has been the fight against what is widely known as conversion therapy.”

Such practices, he says, “have numerous damaging, death-dealing, and no doubt disastrous consequences.” The stories he’s collected in this volume reflect that, but they also mirror confidence and strength in the face of detrimental treatment.

Writer Gregory Elsasser-Chavez was told to breathe in something repellent every time he thought about other men. He says, in the end, he decided not to “pray away the gay.” Instead, he quips, he’d “sniff it away.”

D. Apple became her “own conversation therapist” by exhausting herself with service to others as therapy. Peter Nunn’s father took him on a surprise trip, but the surprise was a conversion facility; Nunn’s father said if it didn’t work, he’d “get rid of” his 15-year-old son. Chaim Levin was forced to humiliate himself as part of his therapy.

Lexie Bean struggled to make a therapist understand that they didn’t want to be a man because they were “both.” Jordan Sullivan writes of the years it takes “to re-integrate and become whole” after conversion therapy. Chris Csabs writes that he “tried everything to find the root of my problem” but “nothing so far had worked.”

Says Syre Klenke of a group conversion session, “My heart shattered over and over as people tried to console and encourage each other…. I wonder if each of them is okay and still with us today.”

Here’s a bit of advice for reading “Shame-Sex Attraction”: dip into the first chapter, maybe the second, then go back and read the foreword and introduction, and resume.

The reason: author Lucas F. W. Wilson’s intro is deep and steep, full of footnotes and statistics, and if you’re not prepared or you didn’t come for the education, it might scare you away. No, the subtitle of this book is likely why you’d pick the book up so because that’s what you really wanted, indulge before backtracking.

You won’t be sorry; the first stories are bracing and they’ll steel you for the rest, for the emotion and the tears, the horror and the unexpected humor.

Be aware that there are triggers all over this book, especially if you’ve been subjected to anything like conversion therapy yourself. Remember, though, that the survivors are just that: survivors, and their strength is what makes this book worthwhile. Even so, though “Shame-Sex Attraction” is an essential read, that doesn’t make it any easier.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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