A Queer-Inclusive Kids’ Book for Indigenous Peoples’ Day (or Any Day)

It’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day today, so I want to highlight the one queer-inclusive children’s book I know of that centers on an indigenous family—while also celebrating the many types of families in our world today.

Families, by Jesse Unaapik Mike and Kerry McCluskey, illustrated by Lenny Lishchenko, is the story of Talittuq, a second-grade boy living with his mother in Iqaluit, the capital city of the Canadian territory of Nunavut. On his first day of school, he asks his mother why his father doesn’t live with them. His mother explains, using the Inuktitut words for mother and father, “Some families have an anaana and an ataata living in the same house, but in our family, it’s just me and you.”

Talittuq heads off to school, excited that it’s the first time his mother has let him ride his bike there, but still wishing his family was the same as others and that he had a father to wrestle with him and take him to sports practice. At school, a minor schoolyard incident means he must go fetch the two moms of his friend Qaukkai. One is her anaana and the other is her mom. He is then introduced to a third woman who turns out to be Qaukkai’s puukuluk, her birth mother, from whom her moms adopted her. “Talittuq thought Qaukkai must be the luckiest girl in the whole town to have three moms,” he reflects.

Later, Talittuq learns that his new teacher, Taiviti, lives with his husband and their son. He also discusses his summer with his friend Joanasie, who lives in Iqaluit with his father, but spent the summer in Ottawa where his mother lives with her new husband, Taiviti’s stepdad. He’s also reminded that his teacher from the previous year lives with her granddaughter, taking care of her ever since the girl’s mother got sick. At the end of the book, Talittuq is back at home with his anaana, and realizes that she is right—all families are different. “That’s right, Talittuq,” she assures him, “and we all have love and happiness in our homes.”

While the plot in some ways sticks to well-worn paths trod by many other LGBTQ-inclusive books celebrating families, Mike and McCluskey’s book stands out for its focus on an indigenous family and its use of Inuktitut terms and names throughout. (There’s a glossary at the end, although much is also understandable from the context.) Mike herself was raised in Iqaluit by a single mother, giving the book grounding and authenticity. She now lives there with her partner Moriah and her daughter Niviaq, and has been advocating for Inuit youth since she was a teenager, says her bio at the end of the book. In a 2014 interview at Finding True North, a blog about Iqaluit, she spoke about living in both a traditional and modern world, and observed, “There’s no way that I’m ever going to be a totally traditional person, but there are still [traditions] that I live by. My beliefs and our customs of children and naming. My language was a huge part. My mom forced me to speak [Inuktitut] by ignoring me when I spoke English, which I’m very thankful for.”

McCluskey has lived in Iqaluit for nearly 20 years, after five years in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, and a start in Ontario. Her son, River Talittuq Gordon McCluskey, “featured prominently in many of the stories she tells,” says her bio—and clearly lent his name to the main character here.

The book’s publisher, Inhabit Media, is an Inuit-owned publishing company with its head office in Iqaluit.

I should note, of course, that the October Indigenous Peoples’ Day is a U.S. observance, a replacement for Columbus Day. National Indigenous Peoples Day in Canada is held every June 21st. Still, indigenous stories, authors, and publishers deserve our support, not just today, but any day, and it’s great to see this goodhearted story that is queer inclusive as well.

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