New Picture-Book Series Stars Transgender Boy and Friends

The author of one of the year’s best LGBTQ-inclusive children’s books is back with the first two volumes of a series (a series!) starring a transgender boy and his friends.

Kyle Lukoff’s When Aidan Became a Brother was one of my favorite picture books of the year because, as I wrote in my review, rather than Aidan’s gender identity offering only challenges to be overcome, as with many books about transgender and gender expansive children, it is instead a source of strength and wisdom. It is also one of few picture books about transgender children that features a transgender boy. Lukoff, who has worked as a bookseller and school librarian, is a transgender man himself, and has clearly brought both his literary expertise and his identity to bear in his own writing.

Call Me Max (Reycraft) is the first of a very exciting new series, and shows us Max, a young boy, navigating his first day of school. While it’s produced in a picture book format with a large cover and full illustrations, it’s broken into (short) chapters, so it slides somewhat into early reader territory. Anything that expands its readership is fine with me, though, especially if it addresses the startling lack of LGBTQ-inclusive early reader books.

Lukoff starts by having protagonist Max explain what it means to be transgender. “When I look in the mirror I see a boy,” it begins. Max describes what he looks like and adds, “I also see a boy who is transgender.” Lukoff, through Max, explains what that means. “Trans” means “going across,” as in “transportation.” “Gender” means being a boy or girl, a little of both, or not feeling like either. Max notes that grown-ups often call a baby a boy or a girl at first, but sometimes they’re wrong. His own parents, in fact, first called him a girl. “When I looked in the mirror, I saw a girl. Kind of,” Max relates. “But because I’m transgender, I wanted to see a boy.”

Max’s parents, still figuring this out, buy him a dress for his first day of school, but he “loses” it and wears his favorite overalls instead. When the teacher is calling attendance, Max asserts himself to ask if she can call him Max instead of the name on her list. Max then says in an aside to readers, “I won’t tell you what my old name was. That’s private.” There’s a whole lesson on respect right there, and Lukoff conveys it to young readers (and maybe even their parents and teachers) without pedantry.

Max then has to go to the bathroom, and isn’t sure which one to use. He first tries the girls’ bathroom, and a girl runs out when she sees him. When he uses the boys’ bathroom instead, though, kids giggle and point. He decides not to go at all again and not to drink too much water.

Lukoff isn’t afraid to show us the biases Max encounters, but nor does he make this a tale entirely about them; much of the book shows Max making and playing with his friends. “Making friends was easy,” Max tells us in the next chapter. When a new friend, Teresa, asks why he wants to be a boy, he responds that he likes climbing trees and playing with bugs. Teresa calls him out, reminding him that she’s been climbing trees and catching bugs with him all day, and she’s a girl. This is a refreshing counter to many other books about transgender children, particularly trans girls, which veer (intentionally or not) towards reinforcing the idea that being a girl only means liking dresses, nail polish, and glitter. Lukoff sees the gender stereotypes and isn’t having any of them. He tackles the concept from another angle, too, when Max tells his friend Steven that he (Max) can’t be a girl because he hates wearing dresses. Steven, in a dress, tells him he likes both wearing dresses and being a boy. Max seems to understand and responds to his friends that he still knows he’s a boy because he feels like one “on the inside.”

In the final chapter, Max is at home, playing with Steven and Teresa. When his parents hear them call him Max, he explains what happened at school and how he feels like a boy. His parents then talk with the teacher and find a support group for transgender kids. Max explains that they sometimes talk about “serious things, like bathrooms and teasing,” but also about fun things like video games, books, and toys. He even exchanges some of his old girl clothes with girls in the group who give him their old boy clothes. Friendships and things both serious and fun—that’s this book, too, in a nutshell.

Max then tells his class he’s transgender. The boys get used to him in their bathroom, he relates, and “The girls didn’t want me in theirs anyway.” (Grown-ups in states with “bathroom bills,” take note.) He maintains his friendships with Steven and Teresa.

“Being a boy isn’t better than being a girl,” he concludes. “But being myself is the best.”

The sequel, Max and the Talent Show, is again told from Max’s perspective, but focuses on the experiences of his friend Steven, who loves to tell stories and “be in the center of things.” Max helps Steven, who likes to wear dresses, find an outfit for the school talent show and prepare for his performance. Lukoff gently shows us the difference between the boys’ personalities—Steven is an outgoing performer; Max doesn’t like to sing or dance. Max does like to help his friends, though, so he offers to be Max’s assistant. “Steven likes that idea,” Max relates. “And he loves to tell me what to do.” Steven isn’t bossy, exactly, but he does like swaying people with his stories. Lukoff reminds readers, though, that even children with friends who love “to tell them what to do” still have their own agency—Max explains that in playing dress up, Steven sometimes asks him to put on a dress, but he (Max) says no, because “I used to wear dresses but now I don’t.” And Max’s reserved nature makes his later action even more meaningful, when an idea of his saves the performance for Steven. He’s finding his own way to have an impact in the world.

Max’s transgender identity isn’t mentioned explicitly in this second book. That feels appropriate here—not every story with an LGBTQ character needs to be “about” being LGBTQ. Still, a few scenes show Max responding to things, and people responding to Max, in ways that reflect his transgender identity (and people’s erroneous assumptions about it). Just because his gender identity isn’t the focus doesn’t mean it disappears entirely, and Lukoff is skilled enough to find this balance.

Both books have cheerful illustrations by Luciano Lozano, who deftly captures the range of the children’s emotions and shows us these are fun characters that readers will enjoy spending time with. Max looks White; Steven appears to be Black, as does Teresa, although her skin is slightly lighter than Steven’s; she could be read as biracial. Other children and adults are of various skin tones and racial identities.

Call Me Max should find a prominent place in the libraries of those wishing to discuss with children what it means to be transgender. Lukoff offers clear definitions that avoid gender stereotypes, and places them in an engaging story that stresses friendships as much as challenges. I hope, though, that those buying it will also buy the second volume, if only to reinforce the idea that stories about LGBTQ people aren’t always “about” that part of their identities. Both books are also just fun tales of friendship, with thoughtful social-emotional messages beyond anything to do with gender identity. All children should enjoy them, but I hope transgender children, particularly transgender boys, find self-confidence and inspiration in these tales. It’s about time transgender kids had a series of their own, with a protagonist and supporting cast they can admire, learn from, and have fun with over the years. (Is it too much to hope for a television series someday?)

A third book, Max on the Farm, is in the works now available.