Books
Jennifer Finney Boylan busts through hate with ‘Cleavage’
Bestselling author, scholar promoted latest book in D.C. in February
When bestselling author Jennifer Finney Boylan came to D.C. earlier this month to promote her new memoir, “Cleavage,” she chose an on-stage partner with whom she has some history, to pose questions before a gaggle of book lovers, members of the LGBTQ community and fans. Transgender Delaware Congresswoman Sarah McBride provided a bookend of sorts, given that Boylan fulfilled that same role when McBride published her first memoir, “Tomorrow Will Be Different.”
“Jenny moderated the first discussion when my book came out in 2018 at the Strand in New York City,” McBride said. “And I was star-struck. I was intimidated, because you were, really, for me, the first contemporary example of a trans person that wasn’t, as you write about in this book, on ‘Jerry Springer.’ Being exploited.”
“And that’s the hardest thing, I think, that some of us experience when we were growing up,” said Boylan. “At least for me, it was, I almost never saw anybody like me on TV or in the movies. And if there was anyone even vaguely like me, they were usually either a villain or someone who was a figure of ridicule. Thank goodness all that has changed!” The crowd laughed along, knowingly.
But it was not just McBride who joined Boylan in the Politics and Prose bookstore at the Wharf. They were joined by other trans trailblazers: Activist Mara Keisling, Adm. (ret.) Rachel Levine, former Department of Defense official Amanda Simpson and journalist and activist Charlotte Clymer.
This event was just one stop on a whirlwind national tour to promote Boylan’s book, featuring Roxane Gay in New York, WBUR senior arts and culture reporter Cristela Guerra in Cambridge, and other stops with celebrity guests from Maine to Santa Cruz, Calif.
Boylan has explained at each stop what compelled her to write a sequel to her bestselling first memoir, “She’s Not There: A Life in Two Genders,” from 2003.
“If you’re a writer, stories are my bread and butter,” she said. “And there are a lot of stories I haven’t told. There are also some stories I wanted to revisit.”
“Cleavage,” she revealed, was to acknowledge that things have changed since she told the world she was trans.
“One of the stories I wanted to look at was the difference between coming out now and coming out 25 years ago,” said Boylan. “I have a transgender daughter. She came out six or seven years ago. And how did I react? I freaked out. Did I put my arms around my child and say, ‘Love will prevail?’ No. I remember literally jolting in my chair. Literally. It was as if I had been struck by lightning. And my first thought was, ‘Damn.’ Because, as most of us know, it’s a hard life. And even when things go about as well as they can, which I think—and there are a lot of success stories in this room—it’s still a hard life.”
After conversations with the author at these events, the hosts have opened the floor to questions from the audience, often not just about Boylan’s memoir but about the state of affairs in Washington and across the nation.
At the event at the New York Public Library earlier this month, Gay fielded this question from someone who moderates a trans nonbinary peer support group: “What can you tell our members to give them hope?” Boylan took a moment to consider the question.
“Here’s what we know. Right now, things are really bad. And they’re not just bad for queer and nonbinary and trans people. They’re bad for a lot of people. They’re bad for anybody who doesn’t kind of fit into this 1950s all-male review of singing and dancing that these people have prepared for us. It is hard,” she said.
“We have been through hard times before in this country. We have been through a civil war. We’ve been through depression. We’ve been through, well, you know, the shit keeps hitting the fan. But this moment, as aggressive as it feels, will not last forever. And this will not define us. And I think that, what’s that Paul Simon song? ‘I believe in the future we will suffer no more. Maybe not in my lifetime, but in yours, I feel sure.’” Boylan was referencing the 1990 song, ‘The Cool, Cool River’ by Paul Simon. “Oh, gee, do I have to be dead for things to get better? I hope not,” added Boylan, before continuing her message.
“This moment, which feels so oppressive, is not the last word,” she said. “This is just beginning. And we have not, unfortunately, we have not yet started to fight back. But we are going to fight back. And, you know, I hope I can say they don’t know what’s coming for them! So, let’s make that clear. Is this really what the majority of Americans wanted? This? I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. And so, we just have to work for it and not lose our hope. And, yeah, keep telling your stories.”
Simpson told her story at the event in D.C., comparing how the movement for marriage equality differs from the movement for trans rights.
“It was about the neighbors you know, and that there were LGBT people in your neighborhood,” she said. “I was an aerospace engineer. We had firemen and policemen. We had military people, all doing these ads saying, ‘Look, we’re just your neighbors. Get to know the individual, not this larger concept of an LGBT person,’ and that worked. And I think we have to do that again. It’s about that personal introduction to them. We do these things to show that we’re just like everyone else. We’re human. But we have a leader sitting down the street who has made this such a sharp point to help energize or misdirect what’s going on. And being a Jewish woman, I remember—well, not personally, but I look back at what happened in 1933 and 35 overseas and think about the similarities of picking on one group of defenseless, underrepresented people to help focus everyone else to be behind you. And that’s, I think, what we’re seeing.”
Levine, a former assistant secretary of Health and Human Services in the Biden-Harris administration, followed-up.
“I would agree with Amanda about the political aspect of this, it’s been very well reported that this is a specific strategy, an iterative strategy developed by right-wing think tanks in Washington to split the progressive movement,” Levine said. “They lost marriage, did not feel that they could gain that back, and so they were looking for a scapegoat, and thought that they could make progress by demonizing us and otherizing us, starting with trans athletes, then going on to transgender medicine or gender-affirming care for youth, and now you see, you know, denying that we exist at all, and then potentially trying to go back to sexual orientation as well … It was a specific political and ideological strategy which, unfortunately, they weaponized and were very successful in doing that, and I think that we were conveniently there, but now, what do we do? Now here we are, in this extremely challenging environment, and the key will be how our community, supported by the broader LGBTQ community and our allies, respond.”
Keisling pointed part of the blame for right-wing attacks on the community itself, for its handling of trans athletes and its hyperfocus on JK Rowling, who she called “a jerk.”
“They landed on this sports thing, which we totally screwed up,” said Keisling. “Instead of talking about the seven-year-old who wants to play soccer with her friends, we were talking about Olympians and NCAA swimmers, which we should have been defending against, but that wasn’t our strongest argument. What I have been saying for 10 years is we don’t seem to understand, we as progressives, that we are also part of the problem. We are not focused on what narrowness we’re hearing. Now, I believe this is about populism and politics, as Amanda said. But they came over and started picking people off on our side, and we have never done that. Progressives won’t do that. Progressives will never, ever, ever welcome somebody to come over from the other side. And that’s a mistake, and we’ve got to figure out how to do that, how to reach out to people, how to win over people. And once we win them over, we have to fucking embrace them. And most of the activists I know won’t do that.”
McBride stepped in to concur.
“I agree with you, Mara,” she said, “I think we have lost the art of coalition building. We have created a space where there is no room for imperfect allies. We have eliminated space for people to grow because they at least perceive that they will be seen as permanently guilty for having been wrong.”
Clymer agreed.
“Say what you will about the Evangelical Church, and I have a lot of things to say about the Evangelical Church, but their greatest strength is that there is a very low threshold for entry,” she said. “You show up to the congregations, you don’t have to know anything, you don’t have to have any knowledge of theory or practice or whatever, you just show up and you’re welcome to the pulpit. We as a progressive movement, and I think to your point, Mara, we do not do a very good job of keeping a welcome threshold for entry into the movement. We tell folks that if you don’t know this sort of thing, or this theory, or if you’re not aware of this or that or whatever, we make people afraid to err, make mistakes. And I do think we need to get better at that.”
Boylan got the last word.
“I think that we were defined with some of the hardest issues to understand. And rather than the fact that, you know, I don’t particularly want to play sports with your kid. I want to teach them English,” she said, then turned to McBride. “You are not here to play sports. You are here to represent the people of Delaware. So, the main thing we want is we want to be able to do our jobs. We want to be able to walk tall. And guess what? We also would like to be left alone.”
Boylan was asked if there was a bumper sticker for trans rights that could match what “Love is Love” accomplished for marriage equality. Her response: “Love is the wise person’s revenge. Love is the best revenge in the world.”
Books
‘Transcendent’ a tough but important read
Laverne Cox’s memoir recounts horrific abuse as a child
‘Transcendent: A Memoir’
By Laverne Cox
c.2026, Gallery Books
$30/238 pages
OK, let’s just say it: You’re tired of lies.
They come from above, behind, from either shoulder. They’re repeated, laid out in a line, told as if they’re true but they’re not. You wish people would stop lying to you. As in the new memoir “Transcendent” by Laverne Cox, you wish you could tell the truth about yourself.

Sissy.
If the bullies in the neighborhood weren’t constantly calling Laverne Cox that name, then Cox’s mother was. “Sissy,” was just one word, though; the others were worse. The boys would say those things while they beat Cox, when they could catch her. Her mother screamed at her gentle child who didn’t like “boy” activities.
Even at eight years old, says Cox, “I was a prim and proper lady.”
Despite the verbal abuse about her perceived feminine behavior and a furtive, failed attempt at conversion therapy, Cox’s mother sent her and her brother to the Alabama School of Fine Arts, where Cox learned to dance. It was a lifeline for her, and the talent gained there helped Cox get into college in Indiana.
From there, Cox expected to find fame and fortune in New York City.
And yet, the abuse she suffered as a child held Cox back, and the words “There is something wrong with me” became a daily mantra.
“I didn’t know how to say it.” Cox says. “I’m a girl.”
There were therapy sessions to get to that point, as Cox learned the language and skills needed to speak the truth. Landing a sense of style helped, as did her brother’s support, a handful of friends, and happy, scent-infused memories of her mother’s make-up table.
At each step, Cox says, “I was expressing myself, I was also allowing myself to edge closer to my girlhood.”
Let’s start here: “Transcendent” is a difficult read – not for style, but for substance.
From her earliest memory of being sexually abused as a toddler; to verbal and physical abuse from many sources; to what, judging by photo captions, seems perhaps like forgiveness, author Laverne Cox glosses over nothing. Be ready, in other words, for pages and pages of memories that, like a roller-coaster, will make you cringe and want to hide your eyes, although doing so would be a mistake.
As this book progresses, Cox’s story does, too. We see a child who knows a truth but has no words for it. The child becomes a teen with a bursting sense of self, then a young adult who craves love as she’s stretching her wings. By the time Cox advances to writing about her career and the abuse is (mostly) over, readers will breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief. Whew, you’ve winced through a harrowing tale to reach a satisfying but not complete update.
Fans of Cox’s work will want “Transcendent,” as will anyone who’s transitioned, is thinking about it, or loves someone who has. It’s a rough read, but a necessary one, then, and that’s no lie.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Books for Pride by various authors
c.2026, various publishers
$18.95 – $29.00
How many times have you marched so far this month? Seems like there’s always a reason to gather and walk during Pride, but save some time for yourself, too. You’ll want to reflect, rest, and read these great books about living your best Pride month.
No doubt, you’ve thought once or twice about stepping away from society as it is, and moving somewhere more accepting. So read “Qtopia: A Memoir of Love, Land, and Liberation” by Juda Bennett (University of Wisconsin Press, $18.95), the story of doing exactly that, and how it turned out.
Back in the ‘70s, Bennett fled the suburbs and all it represented, and went “back to the land,” to a commune named Lavender Hill. Some of the places he’d lived before then had promised way more than they delivered, but Lavender Hill was different – more rural, more open, more queer, much better. But you know all good things must end, and that includes “queer utopia.” The only thing left was to re-enter the mainstream, a journey unto itself, and one worth reading.
Speaking of memoirs, in “Gay Mormon Dad” by Chad Anderson, art by Remy Burke (Graphic Mundi, $21.99), you’ll read about Anderson’s life as a husband (to a woman), a father, and a man who seemingly had it all but it wasn’t right, and he wasn’t happy. He was gay, but acknowledging it, telling his family and his church family, could mean the loss of everything he loved. It’s a story that may be familiar to you, in some way, and it’s a quick read.
For most of his life, Joseph Osmundson dreamed about getting pregnant and having a family. The former didn’t happen and, as for the latter, as he writes in his memoir, “Spawning Season: An Experiment in Queer Parenthood” (Bloomsbury, $27.99) the journey for a gay man to become a father can have plenty of roadblocks.
When two women approach Osmundson to be a sperm donor, it appears that his ultimate dreams are about to come true. Things go swimmingly – until race enters the conversation. Are the words “donor” and “dad” the same? Read this powerful book, and think about it.
And finally, if parenthood as a gay person is something that’s a case of maybe-later, then “Good Morning Moon: A Snapshot of an American Family” by Brad Gooch (Harper, $29) is a book to find. It’s the story of late-life love, surrogacy, and identity as Gooch learns about himself as he learns to be a good Dad. This is a great book for older fathers, and anyone who’s on the parental fence, later in life.
If these great books aren’t enough for you, or if you’re looking for something different for Pride, then head to your favorite bookstore or library and ask the staff there to help you find your next best read. They’ve got a lot of books to put in your hands, a lot of sunny afternoons full of relaxing and promise, so march on out, get a new book, and happy Pride!
Books
David Archuleta on Mormon faith, ‘Idol,’ more in new book
Unique memoir details religious upbringing, coming out
‘Devout: Losing My Faith to Find Myself’
By David Archuleta
c.2026, Gallery Books
$29/290 pages
So just make up your mind already.
The decision is very much in your control – or, at least that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’ll be your future, your path, and seizing it may not just be necessary, but mandatory. It’s your life, and no one can live it for you. As in the new memoir “Devout” by David Archuleta, that goes for career and for love, too.

Born to parents who both had musical careers before they wed, David Archuleta remembers an early childhood growing up in a Hispanic Mormon community in Florida, where kin was always nearby. He was six when his parents moved the immediate family to Utah; the first thing he remembers about that is the snow, and how it was so cold, it burned.
Because music was in his blood, Archuleta grew up singing and dancing, often with his mother whom he calls “my rock.” It was his father, however, who encouraged him to perform; first, with a gentle push, then a shove toward a career Archuleta didn’t really want.
But he did want to make his father happy, so he went along with the contests, embarrassing meet-and-greets with stars, and uncomfortable introductions. Slowly, though, performing became more fun, and Archuleta made friends.
Meanwhile, back home, everything was breaking apart. A “family friend” whom Archuleta refuses to name accused his father of abuse. He was exonerated, but it affected the family’s closeness and they stopped being affectionate.
That was a painful backdrop to Archuleta’s soaring career, his appearances on Star Search, friendships with other rising stars, his runner-up spot on “American Idol,” tours, and recording contracts. His father kept pushing him.
But there was one thing missing.
Since he was a boy, Archuleta had known that he was attracted to men, but his Mormon faith taught him that that was unacceptable. Kissing, his abuelita said, was wrong. He tried hard to date girls, in the most chaste way. Anything past that was against God – and anything at all with a man was unthinkable.
Though it absolutely favors his personal life and dwells on it a bit too much, “Devout” strikes an otherwise nice balance between that, author David Archuleta’s career, his sexuality, and his faith. The latter two are loaded with controversy.
You don’t need to be Mormon to fully understand the faith part; Archuleta offers non-Mormons a brief education, so readers can see the importance of the Church’s teachings in his life and why he felt the need to abandon it as his understanding of his bisexuality grew. It’s emotionally raw and honest, but also so respectful that it almost bears re-reading. Such candor and the heart-on-his-sleeve tone you’ll sense are features in the entire book, alongside Archuleta’s family’s struggles and his learning to strike out alone.
It’s harmonious in more ways than one, and fans will be happy.
So, too, will anyone who wants a unique memoir with a dose of faith, or someone who’s an “American Idol”watcher. Find “Devout” and be sure to share. You won’t mind.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
-
Mexico5 days agoGay US couple among four people found dead in Mexico mass grave
-
National5 days agoACLU says trans athletes ruling is narrower than many believe
-
Delaware5 days agoDelaware approves amendment protecting same-sex marriage
-
Noticias en Español5 days agoCentenares de personas participan en la Marcha del Orgullo en la capital salvadoreña
