The problem that needs to be fixed is not kick all the girls out of YA, it’s teach boys that stories featuring female protagonists or written by female authors also apply to them. Boys fall in love. Boys want to be important. Boys have hopes and fears and dreams and ambitions. What boys also have is a sexist society in which they are belittled for “liking girl stuff.” Male is neutral, female is specific.
I heard someone mention that Sarah Rees Brennan’s THE DEMON’S LEXICON would be great for boys, but they’d never read it with that cover. Friends, then the problem is NOT with the book. It’s with the society that’s raising that boy. It’s with the community who inculcated that boy with the idea that he can’t read a book with an attractive guy on the cover.
Here’s how we solve the OMG SO MANY GIRLS IN YA problem: quit treating women like secondary appendages. Quit treating women’s art like it’s a niche, novelty creation only for girls. Quit teaching boys to fear the feminine, quit insisting that it’s a hardship for men to have to relate to anything that doesn’t specifically cater to them.
Because if I can watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and want to grow up to be an archaeologist, there’s no reason at all that a boy shouldn’t be able to read THE DEMON’S LEXICON with its cover on. My friends, sexism doesn’t just hurt women, and our young men’s abysmal rate of attraction to literacy is the proof of it.
If you want to fix the male literary crisis, here’s your solution:
Become a feminist.
The Problem is Not the Books, Saundra Mitchell (via silverstags)
One day, the oceans will rise and swell as I watch your breath, your chest rising and falling, it’s so perfect, I’m so happy, that I get to watch you inhale and exhale and then you do it again. I’ll never really believe it. We roll around in bed, happier than we have ever been. Why is this so hard? Why do I know your eyes on my eyes? Why do I know that we have talked for hours and hours that are now months and all we ever were really trying to say to each other was I am willing to meet you halfway. We’re not so different, and we’re sick of disappointments and dull fireworks wanting to cry. We don’t need a kingdom of gold, silver will do because fuck y’all, we just do how we do and we will be fancy and tasteful but never by the books, we’re not greedy but people will think we are but in this place everyone gets a turn to speak and I have waited patiently and when I speak, you will hear me.
"Saying bye to Ted, Barney, Robin, Lily and Marshall will be as hard as saying bye to real people in my life. Thank you all for loving them like we do."
maybe love is in the shape of your eyebrows raising, mock-offended
when i tell you that i can’t take my tea without sugar
maybe love is in the shape of your mouth when you smirk
and i call you out for being a smug bastard but my voice betrays me
when it sounds more of an endearment than a mean comment
maybe love is in the shape of your back arching off the bed
hips pressing close with mine and mouth even closer
maybe love is in the shape of us with our limbs wound over each other
as if it’s too cold at night and you’re not a human heater, even in summer
maybe love is in the shape of your eyes, wide and hopeful
as i say “i do.”
The first time I say I love you, your face
crumbles. You look at me
the way man stares in terror
at the stars and the sea.
You grasp your head, fist
your hair, hiss, whisper why me
why me I am weak I am
dirt I am dust I am
Why you? Because
the earth is made of dust
and dirt and you are as
essential to me as earth
is to sky; you give me something
to set my sun against.
The dirt and the dust are not
weak. I could build a house
out of you; you are the roof
when I rain.