Conversation with Ashley Rhodes-Courter
By Dani Glass
When I met with Ashley to discuss her new book, Sam Is My Sister, I had a long list of questions and no small amount of curiosity. The list was soon abandoned as we began discussing writing books, the importance of representation, her history with the foster care system (as both a child and a parent), her family, her transgender daughter, inclusive language in schools, and using privilege for good.
While Sam Is My Sister stemmed from her own family’s need for more books representing transgender children, Ashley’s own story can be found in between the lines and behind the beautiful illustrations. Having grown up in the foster care system, Ashley knows firsthand how powerful representation is, and how isolating its absence can be. She makes it a priority to stock her children’s bookshelves with a diverse array of characters and families of a variety of identities and backgrounds. And it is a good thing she did, because when her daughter read I Am Jazz for the first time, she exclaimed, “That’s me! I’m transgender!” It is moments like this that Ashley hopes to provide for other children and families through Sam Is My Sister. Ashley firmly believes that books are a powerful resource that can help children understand themselves, gain affirming language, become familiar with difference, feel more comfortable with diversity, and connect with others – all in an organic, natural, and joyful way. When children see how their parents love and value these diverse characters for exactly who they are, children will feel safer and more comfortable being themselves at home and confiding in their parents about their feelings, their peers, their experiences, and their identities.
When Ashley’s daughter told her parents she was transgender, Ashley and her husband began the process of learning: speaking with experts and educating themselves. Then they began informing their daughter’s school and the people in their lives. Ashley reflects that even as a supportive, progressive parent, these conversations were often difficult to navigate. She realized there was an incredible need for resources not only for transgender children, but also for parents, siblings, classmates, peers, teachers, and more. Sam Is My Sister developed from this need. Ashley is acutely aware of her privilege as a white, cisgender woman, and hopes to use that privilege to raise up the voices of those without such privilege: namely, her daughter. Ashley says, “There was a need for more tools to create these conversations. It might feel like an intimidating topic, but there is always an age-appropriate way to explain it. What if I had a resource…to give to [my daughter’s] friends and teachers to help them understand [her] better?”
Many people – both parents and educators – fear that children are too young to understand gender and the social issues that surround it. However, as Ashley discussed, the topics of identity, transition, bullying, injustice, or inequality are not in themselves “too much” for children to comprehend; it is simply the job of the adults in their lives to present those topics in an age-appropriate way. And that is exactly what Sam Is My Sister accomplishes. It helps provide age-appropriate, clear, respectful language to use. It emphasizes that no matter what, Sam is still Sam. Ashley emphasizes the fact that Sam’s being transgender is just one part of her; it is neither her whole story nor does it singularly define who she is. She is still the same Sam who likes to go fishing and play astronauts with her brothers. Who she is hasn’t changed; the rest of the world can simply see her more clearly.
Different parts of Sam Is My Sister will resonate most deeply with readers. When I asked Ashley about which part(s) resonated most deeply with her, she brought up a scene that takes place at school, where the teacher asks the students to line up by gender. Sam asks, “Where do I go?” and the teacher responds, “How about you just walk next to me.” Ashley reflects that this scene is based on a real experience, from before her daughter was out as transgender at school – an experience that could just as easily have gone very badly. She commends the teacher for her response and her ability to recognize the need of a child in a particular moment; however, Sam’s discomfort could have been avoided entirely if the two lines had been organized based on long hair and short hair, or birthday months, or food preferences. When teachers learn to use inclusive language, students will feel far more comfortable. This extends far beyond gender; for example, Ashley discussed her discomfort every year in school when it came to Mother’s Day activities.
When teachers assume that all children have different experiences and choose to use inclusive language (such as lining up according to who likes apple versus orange juice or making a card for a loved one instead of a mother or father), students will feel more seen, respected, and valued. Inclusive and neutral language is a simple yet powerful way to encourage students to feel comfortable being themselves at school.
And at the end of the day, it is not just about comfort for the child who may be different in some way, be that family structure, gender, race, ability, or any other part of their identity. It is also about creating a culture where diversity is not only accepted as part of the norm but is celebrated and valued. It is about creating a world that is safer for those who may be different in some way, because those who grow up comfortable with diversity will not antagonize those who seem different. Ultimately, as Ashley verbalized so poignantly, “This is the real world. The ‘Sams’ exist and they deserve to be loved and protected. That was the motivation for creating a tool: for Sam to live a safer existence.”
