In a series of personal essays, prominent journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist George M. Johnson explores his childhood, adolescence, and college years in New Jersey and Virginia. From the memories of getting his teeth kicked out by bullies at age five, to flea marketing with his loving grandmother, to his first sexual relationships, this young-adult memoir weaves together the trials and triumphs faced by Black queer boys.
Both a primer for teens eager to be allies as well as a reassuring testimony for young queer men of color, All Boys Aren't Blue covers topics such as gender identity, toxic masculinity, brotherhood, family, structural marginalization, consent, and Black joy. Johnson's emotionally frank style of writing will appeal directly to young adults.
Read this in my ongoing effort to read books that are being banned. This was a bracing, direct, candid memoir of growing up Black and queer in America. The "manifesto" part is woven throughout as the message for the reader that they can also "live in [their] totality" (page 12). This is a book for young adults -- and I am not a young adult -- but I can easily imagine readers taking solace from Johnson's writing, being inspired by his words, and learning that they are not alone. Johnson reveals several painful episodes of his life that must have been difficult (and brave!) to write, but also reveals a family that surrounded him with love.
All Boys Aren't Blue by George M Johnson was 11th in my 2022 #FReadom quest to read books removed or threatened in Texas schools and libraries. Johnson shows his young adult readers the utmost respect: that is, he tells them the truth. us.macmillan.com/books/9780374312718/allboysarentblue
Johnson tells his truth with no sugarcoating nor melodrama: even in a supportive family, finding & claiming one's true identity is a long, rocky climb. Enroute, one may experience violence & even abuse, but also deep love & rich beauty - sometimes where one least expects.
Really great from the get-go, but sagging several chapters in. The blithe affluence becomes grating, especially as Johnson repeatedly presents the showering of children with trendy consumer goods, televisions, video game consoles, amusement-park– and hotel–filled vacations, resented summer camps, ongoing sports team expenses, college costs, and other eye-popping luxuries as the epitome of Black familial love. Lauding a sibling for not being awful, and raiding private moments from the life of a deceased transfeminine cousin — after somewhat shunning her in life, forcing her to be refigured as inspiration porn for publication — complete the spoiling of a memoir that is otherwise imbued with transformative potential well beyond the bland story it relates.
This was a compelling and enjoyable memoir of Johnson’s life so far. From his early childhood happiness and traumas to his growth and coming-into-being as an adult, he shares with the reader deeply personal and intimate moments. It feels like skipping the awkward, small-talk phase of a friendship and having those hours-long 3 AM conversations with a close friend about your lives. While I enjoyed and am grateful to have shared in Johnson’s life and his story, the memoir does read like a debut work and is probably more enjoyable to its target audience.
Many of the themes in the book resonated with my own experience, and I laughed and (figuratively) cried with Johnson as he takes us through everything, not sparing the reader any words. The themes of repression, loss, trauma, self-acceptance, and others are very much relevant not only to Johnson’s intended audience of young, queer, Black readers …
This was a compelling and enjoyable memoir of Johnson’s life so far. From his early childhood happiness and traumas to his growth and coming-into-being as an adult, he shares with the reader deeply personal and intimate moments. It feels like skipping the awkward, small-talk phase of a friendship and having those hours-long 3 AM conversations with a close friend about your lives. While I enjoyed and am grateful to have shared in Johnson’s life and his story, the memoir does read like a debut work and is probably more enjoyable to its target audience.
Many of the themes in the book resonated with my own experience, and I laughed and (figuratively) cried with Johnson as he takes us through everything, not sparing the reader any words. The themes of repression, loss, trauma, self-acceptance, and others are very much relevant not only to Johnson’s intended audience of young, queer, Black readers but also to people who fit none of those labels. Because of that, I suppose most people would find some point of commonality in this memoir, though perhaps those who share some or all of Johnson’s identities would find it more meaningful. I do, and found it both relatable but also a bit frustrating. While the memoir is deeply personal, it also feels quite raw in the emotions and relationships that Johnson portrays. He loves his Nanny and mother, and both are pivotal to his life; though I was glad that he had positive and supportive figures in his life, I also felt empty at how much my family is the exact opposite. I’m not sure if this aspect of the book will feel as hopeful to some young readers, especially those dealing with painful familial struggles. It was tough to read the interludes of personal letters to various family members, since he was fortunate to be surrounded by loving and supportive family. It felt like a sharp contrast to my own experience, and Johnson doesn't really give much time talking about this potential disconnect readers may feel.
The manifesto element of the book was also a bit unclear. Johnson tells us snippets and moments from his life in a mostly chronological manner, and then analyzes them and spells out some profound statements at the end. The statements themselves may be worthwhile, but this method became repetitive and felt vague at times. As one other reviewer put it, there is too much telling and not enough showing; Johnson could trust his audience to infer some of the conclusions he explains to the reader. Reading a book is not one-sided. The reader is free, and indeed often, imparts their own meanings and inferences to the story (whether fictional or not), and this may or may not align with the author. I certainly disagreed with some of Johnson's statements, but this is reflective of the fact that no community or minority is a monolith that will always agree.
This is a significant and important work, and I applaud Johnson for writing this. It took a lot of effort, bravery, and introspection to publish a book that details not only your heroic family members but also your most personal traumas and embarrassing experiences.
It has been a week of the new year, and this is my third book read so far. The pandemic and lockdown might have disrupted my reading rhythm last year, but I have a good feeling about getting back into the swing of it now, even though it feels like it is still March 2020. Or maybe I tend to be really into reading more books in the beginning months of the year… we’ll see.
“The boy who had struggled to find friends for so long finally had a whole group of people he could call his brothers.”
