Archer Asks: Author Rae White on gender diversity in children’s literature
By: Alex Creece
Rae White (they/them) is a non-binary transgender writer, educator, poet and zine maker based in Brisbane. Their poetry collection Milk Teeth won the 2017 Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize, was shortlisted for the 2019 Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards and commended in the 2018 Anne Elder Award. Rae’s second poetry collection was shortlisted for the 2023 Prime Minister’s Literary Awards and 2023 Queensland Literary Awards.
Rae White has poems published in Nothing to Hide: Voices of Trans and Gender-Diverse Australia and also contributed a piece to Dear Lover. They have had poetry published in Australian Poetry Journal, Cordite, Meanjin, Overland and Rabbit. Rae is the Creative Director and Founder of community poetry initiative Uplift Poetry, and the Founding Editor of #EnbyLife, a journal for non-binary and gender-diverse creatives.
I spoke to Rae about their new picture book, All the Colours of the Rainbow (illustrated by Sha’an d’Anthes), writing in new genres, childhood experiences, and the power of small acts of affirmation and support.
Alex Creece: Rae! You’re a prolific and amazing poet. You wrote the intro to my own book, and interviewed me about it, so needless to say, I’m a huge fan! What inspired you to take the leap into children’s literature?
Rae White: It sounds so cliché, but I was at Pride in 2022, and there were all these beautiful rainbow families that were marching with us.
I’d done Pride marches before, but I felt a sense of anticipation because I knew that a lot of my friends were going to have kids or were new parents. I was like, Oh my gosh, this is absolutely beautiful. I want to write something to embrace these beautiful people that I love.
And, you know, there’s that classic queer thing of wanting to write the stories that I wish I’d had growing up in the late ’80s and early ’90s.
I wanted to create something that I would have loved as a kid: something that embraced hope and open-mindedness regarding gender, identity and difference.
I also feel like the going from poetry to a children’s book was almost like a natural progression for me. There’s so much brevity when you write poetry, which really lends itself to the succinct nature of children’s books. Everything needs to be really compact and accessible for a child. To be honest with you, writing this book was harder than writing two poetry collections!
AC: That makes so much sense to me – both genres demand very deliberate word choices. I can imagine that would just be intensified with kid lit. Some people assume that writing fewer words should be easier, but it’s actually a huge challenge to make an impact with such tight word constraints.
RW: Yeah, exactly! And especially since I’m not a kid myself, it’s hard to put yourself into that headspace and consider how to phrase things.
I couldn’t say something like, “Jem [the protagonist] is contemplating their gender,” because what is gender? For kids, their reference point to gender is what they’re taught at home or school, being told, “You’re a boy or a girl,” stuff like that. So yeah, the writing process was so hard, but so fun. It was definitely a learning curve.
AC: I actually had a bit of a cry when I first read All the Colours of the Rainbow – it’s beautiful. As a guncle myself, I’m really excited to share this book with my niblings and friends’ children. How do you hope that children, parents, families and educators will interact with the book? What conversations do you want it to spark?
RW: Okay, firstly I gotta say that “guncle” is fantastic! I love that so much! I’m a unkie, which is like an uncle/auntie, to my friend’s baby. It’s so cute. I got this little card with his handprint, and it says, “Merry Christmas, Unkie Rae”.
AC: Oh, that’s gorgeous.
RW: It totally made me cry. When you said that the book made you cry as well, I agree that it’s a bit of a tearjerker. There’s something very universal in its approach – it’s not saying you necessarily have to explore gender specifically or solely. Instead, I’m hoping that it can speak to a lot of people’s diverse experiences, with gender or otherwise.
I hope that this book will provide a good starting point for thoughtful conversations between children, parents, guardians, et cetera. All the Colours of the Rainbow encourages an open dialogue, whether that’s through children and families reading the story together and asking questions, maybe about the rainbow metaphor or reflecting on what makes all of us unique.
And the conversations don’t necessarily have to be about an individual’s gender – they can be about reflections on pervasive gender stereotypes and the things that mess up our lives as adults. The things that we’re taught as young people can be broken down at an early age, encouraging a degree of freedom and exploration.
I want families, young people and educators to feel inspired and open to talking about gender in a way that’s inclusive, supportive and celebratory; it doesn’t have to be a serious discussion.
I’ve had some [adult] friends who’ve read it and they’re just like, Oh, wow, this made me think about some things. And that’s really good.
It doesn’t have to be: Oh god, I’m questioning my whole gender. This book has made me trans. It can just be simply like, Oh, that’s a stereotype that I’d like to break down – bam!
AC: I love that. I feel that it’s a great book for children, but I’m also excited for cis-het parents – or anyone who hasn’t had to think about this kind of stuff – to read it, and hopefully examine their own assumptions.
It’s so important for adults to lead by example. I love seeing shifts towards letting kids wear clothes that make them most comfy, and relaxing gendered expectations – for example, to stop pressuring kids to hug and kiss extended family members based on their assigned gender (I hated this as a kid!).
So yeah, I love this book for children, but I’m also excited for parents in mainstream society to be able to re-examine some of those things that they may have internalised as normal.
To my next question: does the book connect to your own childhood experiences?
RW: Yes and no, I guess! My parents were definitely – and remain – very chill in terms of gender expression.
You know, when I was younger, they weren’t too bothered about what I wore, and I was able to play with whatever I wanted. I loved playing with Barbies and matchbox cars and horses – all the things.
I was an only child. There was never any point where they were like, “No, you cannot wear that,” which is really beautiful. Even at university, I was wearing band T-shirts and jeans and stuff, and I probably looked a little butch. So yeah, my family was always quite open about gender – but of course, they still have stereotypes and stuff that affect them, like we all do. We all have things that influence how we think about gender on a daily basis.
I think my early experiences, and feeling supported by my family, have made me a happy enby who wants to write about happy enby young people!
AC: That’s glorious. I love hearing about queer childhoods that are relatively happy, and I love that your work centres empowerment and gender euphoria.
RW: I feel like gender is also something that is spoken about in very black-and-white terms – for example, the expectation to transition from one binary gender to another. But it doesn’t have to be something strict. I don’t want to say it’s a journey, or a discovery, but those are the words that spring to mind.
When I came out as non-binary as an adult, I was like, Okay, well, I’ve got to look a bit more butch, I can’t like pink and this, and this, and this. Now I’ve gone full spectrum to being like, Actually, pink is not a boy’s colour or a girl’s colour – it’s a me colour.
I’ve come around to embracing the possibilities. At the end of the day, I don’t care what people think, to be honest, which is probably good!
AC: That’s fantastic. I love queer joy, and it feels so scarce sometimes. A lot of mainstream narratives around queer identities are so malicious, fear-mongering and doomy. It’s a nice reprieve to talk about stories such as this one – it’s like, we know the world isn’t safe, but how can we be safe to each other?
RW: Fuck, why didn’t I say that? [laughs] That’s exactly it.
Honestly, everything going on in the world at the moment [politically and globally] is horrific. But then when I take like smaller scale view of my life, I see that I’m surrounded by beautiful loved ones and wonderful trans people. And we’re all fiercely supportive of each other, even though things are fucked up.
Young trans kids and young people who are questioning gender are always the ones that are carted out when a bigot wants to say some shit. And don’t get me started on the constant bathroom discourse. Kids deserve so much better. They deserve the support and the idea that gender is expansive. They don’t deserve bigots using them as a platform or whatever. It’s fucked.
AC: Tell me about your experiences of working with Sha’an d’Anthes, the illustrator. How did this collaboration come about?
RW: Sha’an is such an incredible person to work with. She’s a real joy. I feel like we have a similar energy, so her whimsical art style brings much life and warmth to the book.
Sha’an was recommended by my publisher, Hachette, and my agent, Danielle Binks. She was someone that I admired on social media, and I was like, “Oh, yes, you can ask her to illustrate the book! And I’m sure she’ll say no!” But she absolutely said yes, and I was like, Aaah! I was really thrilled.
It was clear from the beginning that we shared the same kind of vision, and wanted to create something that was inclusive and hopeful. Sha’an has an amazing ability to capture emotions and diversity in her illustrations, which elevate the message of the book. It felt like a really perfect partnership.
AC: When reading the book, the illustrations and the words are such a perfect match. It’s a beautiful story, and it’s also a beautiful art object. So much care is taken in creating work like this, and it’s just so satisfying to hold and read!
RW: Totally, I know what you mean! I keep looking at it and I’m like, Oh my god, so pretty! I feel like Sha’an and I also have similar vibes or – I don’t know what it is – a similar outlook or something. And I feel like you do as well.
Like, everything is kinda vibrant and bright and [gestures to drink bottle adorned with colourful bird motifs], y’know? I think that vibrance and sense of celebration is important to this book, especially with the rainbow metaphor.
AC: Cutie pie vibes! Something I loved in this story was the relationship between Jem and their mum. Can you speak to the power of small acts of support in affirming and exploring our unique identities?
RW: Oh my gosh, absolutely!
Support from an adult (or adults) in a young person’s life doesn’t just change their life, but it can save their life. That may sound dramatic, but especially in the current climate, those small acts of support – say, a teacher challenging gender stereotypes, or a parent affirming their child’s self-expression – create a profound ripple effect. This can have a deep impact on how young people perceive themselves and the world, all the way through to adulthood.
I think having a supportive adult (or adults) in a young person’s life is so, so important. Many people in the trans community have trauma around their childhood experiences. It can be incredibly hard to break down the gender stereotypes and internalised transphobia that can come from growing up. Being a supportive adult in a kid’s life can mean the absolute world.
AC: Spot on. And not at all dramatic to say that this sort of support is lifesaving – that’s a fact. The messages we internalise as children tend to sit close to our hearts for the rest of our lives – it’s vital that these messages are kind ones.
For my penultimate question: do you have plans to continue writing in this genre?
RW: Yes, definitely. Writing a kid’s picture book has been a really rewarding experience.
I definitely want to continue creating stories for young people, especially LGBTQIA+ young people, and those who are questioning. I’ve got like a bunch of different manuscripts in the works. I’m also exploring some junior fiction and young adult fiction, along with all the poetry and zines that I always write. So yeah, I possibly need to slow down, but also… what if I didn’t?
AC: Yeah, don’t slow down (within reason)! I would love to trawl through your drafts!
RW: There’s a big folder of drafts: things that I’ve started that I’m not sure where they’re going yet, or things that are just waiting They’re like seeds waiting to be watered and to grow into plants one day when they get published. I’ve got so many manuscripts.
AC: And finally, what do you want to see more of in the world of picture books?
RW: Definitely in children’s lit, junior fiction and middle grade fiction, I want to see lots of happy, euphoric stories for young queer and trans people. I want stories that are empathetic and empowering, and also that don’t necessarily position the whole book about their gender journey, transitioning and stuff.
I’d love to see stories that are more like, Hey, I’m a trans kid, and today I’m going to go birdwatching, and this is my story about birdwatching! That kind of thing, where their gender identity is part of their life, but it’s not their whole being. Because being trans is absolutely all of my life, but it’s also sometimes none of my life, if that makes sense – it can be both at once.
I’d like to see lots of different diverse stories, so there’ll be amazing, incredible canon of work that’s… you know, I was gonna say “all the colours of the rainbow”, and that’s really corny, but you get me!
It took me ages to find myself in a book. I think like the first time I saw a non-binary person in a book was like Alison Evans’s Ida and that was maybe 10-ish years ago? So ludicrous. I don’t want other people to have to wait so long to see themselves in literature.
You can get a copy of All the Colours of the Rainbow by Rae White and Sha’an d’Anthes online and at all good bookstores.
A launch celebration will take place on 12 February 2025 at Where the Wild Things Are bookshop in Magandjin (Brisbane).