Transmuted by Eve Harms

Transmuted by Eve Harms

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Unerving

Genre: Body Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans main character and side character, queer main characters, Japanese-American side character

Takes Place in: Los Angeles, California, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Body Shaming, Forced Captivity, Gore, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Transphobia

Blurb

Her doctor is giving her the body of his dreams… and her nightmares. Isa is a micro-celebrity who rarely shows her face, and can’t wait to have it expertly ripped off and rearranged to look more feminine. When a successful fundraiser makes her gender affirming surgery possible, she’s overjoyed—until she has to give up all her money to save her dying father.

Crushed by gender dysphoria and the pressure of disappointing her fans who paid for a new face, she answers a sketchy ad seeking transgender women for a free, experimental feminization treatment. The grotesquely flawless Dr. Skurm has gruesome methods, but he gets unbelievable results, and Isa is finally feeling comfortable in her skin. She even gains the courage to ask out her crush: an alluring and disfigured alchemy-obsessed artist named Rayna.

But Isa’s body won’t stop changing, and she’s going from super model to super mutant. She has to discover the secret behind her metamorphosis—before the changes are irreversible, and she’s an unwanted freak forever.

Transmuted is an outrageous and unapologetically queer body horror tale that will leave you gasping, giggling, and gagging for more.

Harm excels at taking the everyday horror of living trapped in a body you don’t recognize as your own, dials it up to a hundred, then soaks it in blood, sex, and mad science.

Isa is a trans woman who struggles both with her weight and gender dysphoria. Her hormone replacement therapy (HRT) helps, but what she’d really love is to get facial feminization surgery (FFS) and it appears that her wish will soon become a reality. By raising money through her Twitch channel and charity streams, Isa has finally saved up enough to have the procedure. Everything is looking up. That is until her sister calls and all but demands the money for their shitty dad’s cancer treatment. Frankly I think the cancer is Karma for constantly misgendering his daughter and being all-around shitty to her, but despite my yelling at the pages to “not give that bastard a cent” Isa didn’t take my advice and caves under the guilt and familial pressure. Now that all the money everyone helped her raise is gone, Isa is just distraught and desperate enough to respond to a sketchy internet ad promising free and miraculous feminization treatments for trans women. As you can probably guess, this is not the wisest of decisions. as most things that sound too good to be true usually are. What follows is a bizarre and twisted journey of body horror and alchemy as Isa’s body transforms in ways she never expected.

If you’re someone who’s bugged by discussions of gender dysphoria and find the concept of passing problematic, you probably won’t enjoy this book. This is not a body positive story where the protagonist discovers her true beauty and learns to love herself. This is a book that explores what it’s like to feel disconnected from your body, like it’s some alien thing instead of part of you, and takes it to its extreme. Which honestly? I’m fine with. Body positivity is fucking hard guys. I totally support it and I’m happy for people who have learned to love their body and how they look, but for me that goal feels unattainable and it’s just too much pressure. I’m more a fan of body neutrality, which means you don’t have to love, or even like your appearance to feel good about yourself and appreciate what your body can do. We don’t live in a bubble and there’s constant pressure to appear thin, White, and cis to be considered attractive and accepted by society. Even if you understand intellectually that it’s transphobic to expect trans women to appear feminine and pass as cis and that beauty standards for women are inherently racist, sexist, and fatphobic it still wears on your self-esteem. I appreciate how Transmuted doesn’t pull any punches when examining gender dysphoria. Isa’s hatred of her appearance is painfully familiar and honest, as is her desperation to “fix” her face so she can stand to look in the mirror. It also reminds me of how one trans person, Luna, described her feelings of dysphoria “Gender dysphoria is something that is painful. It hurts. It’s… looking in the mirror and thinking, “Holy heck. Who is that person? Who am I looking at? Is that- Is that someone that’s come into my house?” And then realizing, no, that’s just- that’s just me in the mirror.”

It’s impossible to “think positive” all the time and that’s okay. Negative emotions and feelings are valid.

Despite how horribly wrong things go for Isa, this is not a warning about seeking gender affirming surgery or a lesson about being happy with what you have. It’s a horror story about unethical medical practitioners who prey on trans people, like surgeons who completely botch the surgery on their trans patients (trigger warning, graphic description of medical procedures at link), and illicit online pharmacies. Note that very few trans people regret getting gender confirmation surgery —only around 2%, compared to the 65% of people who regret getting cosmetic surgery — and most surgeries in the US are preformed by skilled surgeons who specialize in trans medicine. But there aren’t many of them, and the waiting list for their services can often be up to two hundred patients at a time. It’s incredibly difficult for trans people to access healthcare. According to LGBTQ taskforce nearly one-in-five trans people reported being denied needed health care outright because of their gender identity, 28% of trans and gender non-conforming people avoid seeking healthcare due to discrimination, and over 50% had to teach their providers about trans care. On top of the difficulty of trying to access healthcare, many trans people can’t afford it: 20% of trans people are uninsured and they’re nearly twice as likely to be living in poverty than the rest of the population. 

ALCHEMY – TREE OF THE MOON – HERMAPHRODITE Engraving from Johann Daniel Mylius, Philosophia Reformata, 1622. The presence of the Tree of the Moon, or the Arbor Argentum, along with the fact that the hermaphrodite stands on a crescent Moon, indicates that this stage is the alchemical process marking the perfection of the First Silver. The hermaphroditic merging of the King and Queen indicates that the process is not yet complete, as integration has not taken place. 

Isa’s situation is exaggerated for the purpose of making the story more horrifying, but her struggle to find healthcare isn’t. Both Isa and her best friend are part of the 10% of trans people forced to turn to the grey market for their HRT, so it’s clear that accessing trans-friendly healthcare is already a challenge for them. This is the scariest part of Transmuted to me, not the mad doctor and his twisted experiments or the bizarre mutations Isa goes through, but the knowledge that the remedy to her mental anguish is so simple, yet impossible to obtain like Tantalus reaching for the fruit tree in Tartarus, and the horror of knowing thousands of real trans people are in her situation every day.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Weirdpunk Books

Genre: Body Horror, Psychological Horror, Romance

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay author, lesbian main characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Death, Mental Illness, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

Sadomasochism. Obsession. Death.

A whirlpool of darkness churns at the heart of a macabre ballet between two lonely young women in an internet chat room in the early 2000s—a darkness that threatens to forever transform them once they finally succumb to their most horrific desires.

What have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Holy shit…this book. Definitely shouldn’t have read it at 1 am.

This epistolary novella starts out innocently enough. It’s the early 2000s and a young woman named Agnes is selling her antique apple peeler on a LGBTQ+ message board. Another young woman, Zoe, offers to buy the apple peeler. The two email back and forth and start up a friendship. Agnes is having a really tough time and Zoe does something incredibly kind and generous to help her out. Awwww. It also turns out both women are gay and developing feelings for each other. Sounds like a sappy Hallmark Christmas movie doesn’t it (if Hallmark ever aired anything that wasn’t incredibly heteronormative)? Except then things start getting kind of weird (so more like a Lifetime Christmas movie). Agnes, who’s life honestly kind of sucks, is beholden of her “guardian angel” and a little too willing to please her. Zoe wants to push Agnes out of her comfort zone and asks her “What have you done today to deserve your eyes?” Super creepy, although nothing necessarily sinister yet. Still, relationship red flags are starting to pop up. As the two grow ever closer, Zoe suggests they enter a BDSM/sugar mama relationship which Agnes immediately agrees to. Zoe will email tasks which Agnes must complete to please her “sponsor” (Kudos to LaRocca for using sponsor/drudge instead of master/slave which can have racist connotations). Things start going downhill rapidly as both women prove how emotionally unstable they really are.

Twitter User @daveaddey noticed something interesting about Hallmark Christmas movie posters. Namely that they all look like they’ll eat your soul.

BDSM is not inherently harmful. Even when it’s meant to cause pain and discomfort, it shouldn’t result in any permanent physical, emotional, or mental harm; every act should be consensual, not coerced and when I say consensual, I mean enthusiastic consent, not the lack of a “no” or safeword. But like with all things, there are people who take it too far. Doms are supposed to prioritize the safety and well-being of their submissive, but Zoe is more interested in seeing how far she can push her new toy before it breaks. She doesn’t listen when Agnes tells her she’s uncomfortable and ignores the fact that a desperately lonely Agnes in not in the right headspace to make informed decisions. Zoe even makes her perform acts that threaten Agnes’ ability to function in everyday life and takes control of her finances (which is a big red flag). That’s when things start to get really disturbing. Yes, it gets even worse. I won’t reveal any spoilers, suffice it to say this book is not for the squeamish or anyone triggered by depictions of psychologically abusive relationships.

Aftercare is important.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke is one of the most uncomfortable and disturbing books I’ve read all year. I spent the final third of the novella squirming and distressed, muttering “Oh no, oh no, oh no” to myself. Watching an abusive relationship develop as a lonely young woman’s mental health declines is incredibly upsetting. The warning signs in the relationship are subtle and easily missed if you don’t know what to look for, at least until it’s too late.  And the body horror pairs perfectly with the psychological horror, making the story even more unsettling. This novella may only take an hour to read, but the dread will stay with you for days. So, what have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Anoka by Shane Hawk

Anoka by Shane Hawk

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Self-Published

Genre: Body Horror, Folk Horror, Monster, Myth and Folklore, Occult, Werewolf

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Biracial Cheyenne author, Dakota characters, non-binary character

Takes Place in: Anoka, Minnesota, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Cannibalism, Child Death, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Gore, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Welcome to Anoka, Minnesota, a small city just outside of the Twin Cities dubbed “The Halloween Capital of the World” since 1937. Here before you lie several tales involving bone collectors, pagan witches, werewolves, skeletal bison, and cloned children. It is up to you to decipher between fact and fiction as the author has woven historical facts into his narratives. With his debut horror collection, Cheyenne & Arapaho author Shane Hawk explores themes of family, grief, loneliness, and identity through the lens of indigenous life.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Apparently Anoka, Minnesota is the “Halloween Capital of the World” because they’ve been having giant Halloween parades since 1920. Out of civic pride, I want to argue that Salem is the Halloween Capital and our town is better because we have real witches and Salem Horror Fest and the oldest candy company in America. On the other hand, I would also like tourists to stop blocking the traffic, drunkenly climbing on the witch statue, and crowding my favorite restaurants every October (that’s my job), so maybe it would be better if they all headed to Anoka instead. I don’t think anyone will want to go anywhere near the Minnesota city after reading Shane Hawk’s Indigenous horror anthology of the same name, though. The stories in Anoka are loosely tied together by their location in an alternative version of the town where dark magic and monsters lurk. An evil tome known simply as “the book” and strange green swirls also make multiple appearances throughout the anthology.

A comic of a person hanging off a statue of a witch saying

Hawk gives a different and unique voice to each of his characters so every story feels different from the others. His writing reminded me of a talented artist who can draw in multiple styles and shift easily from realism to the simple lines of a cartoon. My favorite thing about his book is how so many of the stories felt like pre-comics code horror anthology comics like Eerie, Black Cat, and The Haunt of Fear or modern-day creepypastas with terrifying twists. Some stories were fun and weird, others tragic reflections of human nature. But all of them were creepy, the kind of creepy that makes you aware of how many noises an old house makes at night or has you shouting out loud at the characters not to go into the room where the monster is waiting.

American Indians tragically have the highest infant mortality rate in the U.S. (again due to trauma, poverty and a lack of adequate healthcare), so much of Hawk’s anthology touches on themes of child death and the trauma that goes with such a great loss. In two stories, Orange and Wounded, the death of a child in the past moves the main characters to do something terrible. Soilborne is a metaphor for the loss of the child-parent connection and how devastating that can be. In Imitate, the protagonist has to rush to save his son, Tate, from an unknown horror that’s taken his form. There’s no way of knowing if Tate is even still alive, and the whole story is exceedingly stressful to read. Honestly, Imitate would have worked just fine as microfiction and Hawk could have easily ended it after the first page or so. But instead, he decides to pile on even more terror by turning it into a suspenseful short story where we’re forced to watch a father slowly lose his mind. It’s definitely one of the anthology’s stronger and spookier tales.

My absolute favorite story in the collection is Dead America about a writer named Chaska whose family is followed by death. This is sadly not uncommon for Native families as generational trauma, poverty, and a lack of adequate healthcare has lead to poor health and high death rates from heart disease, diabetes, and suicide. The story gets its name from Chaska’s hobo nickel which depicts the skull of a dead Indian chief in full headdress on one side and Columbus’ three ships on the other. “When betting a coin offers someone a fifty-fifty chance of winning and losing. The nickel was a metaphor for the predicament of Indian existence: fucked no matter which side the coin landed on” the author explains. He’s about to find out how right he is when Asibikaashi the Spider Woman decides to make the Dakota author suffer for his sins.

This story is SCARY. All of my notes for Dead America consist of “nope, nope, nopeity-nope nope, fuck this, nope.” I’m not someone who’s usually bothered by spiders under normal circumstances. I think they’re kind of cute and I love that they eat any bugs that get into the house, but Chaska’s punishment left me terrified of arachnids. If you have any form of arachnophobia, I can guarantee you’ll be in for some nasty nightmares and might want to skip this story entirely. But if you’re feeling brave, it’s one of the strongest stories in the collection and worth checking out. The story also touches on themes of profiting off the personal stories of others, very similar to how Ward ChurchillAsa Earl Carter, Mary Summer Rain and others pretended to be Native for fame and money.

It’s important to note that in Ojibwe stories Asibikaashi, aka Grandmother Spider, is a benevolent deity and helper of humanity whose spiderweb charms, popularly known as “Dream Catchers“, were woven by women as a form of protection for infants. I couldn’t find any references to her punishing the wicked (of course I couldn’t find many references to her at all that weren’t written by White new agers).

Hawk’s final story, Transformation, is about a non-binary werewolf who hunts for her community and runs into trouble at Anoka’s annual Halloween parade. Having a trans werewolf feels perfect because werewolves are the ideal metaphor for someone with a fluid identity. Sometimes you’re a wolf, others a human, and occasionally you’re something in between, but you’re always a werewolf regardless of what form you take that day. Just because I’m femme one day, it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m non-binary; I’m still an enby when I’m feeling more trans-masculine. Like the story title, werewolves can also represent transition. The wolf can be seen as the true self, hidden under a dull human skin that’s forced to conform to society’s rigid standards. Becoming the wolves gives you the opportunity to experience freedom. If that transformation is unwanted, it can be compared to a menstrual cycle that causes dysphoria each month or unwanted body hair. “Jenny” a transwoman who identifies with werewolves is quoted on the queer horror blog, Gender Terror“The titanic proportion of my body and the hair that I continually fight back terrify me, and makes me the target of many suspicious onlookers. And just like werewolves, I have no control over what my body does. Feeling like a prisoner to how your body changes is a special torment I think a lot of transgender people share with werewolves.” So is it any wonder writers like Hal SchrieveAllison MoonSuzanne Walker,  Ashlynn Barker, and numerous self-published erotic authors like Noah Harris have all explored the idea of a trans werewolf? Heck “were-woman” is slang for someone who “transforms” into a woman at night (though this terminology can be problematic). Hawk’s non-binary werewolf character seemed so cool I was disappointed that their story wasn’t longer. There was so much going on in Transformation it felt like it would’ve worked much better as a novella rather than a short story. Honestly, I’d read a full novel about the nostalgic werewolf, Halloween parades, and Wendigo. That’s my one major complaint about Anoka: it’s too short! The concept was so cool I was disappointed we didn’t get to explore more of Hawk’s alternate universe. I wanted to learn more about The Book and the creepy town filled with dark magic and monsters.

A comic-style illustration of a werewolf wearing underwear made from the trans flag colors.

What impressed me the most about the story collection is how Hawk was able to handle the subjects of child losssexual assaultsubstance abuse and missing and murdered Indigenous women, especially in his story Wounded, in a way that felt respectful rather than exploitative. Anoka is a fun, frightening ride that draws attention to many of the issues plaguing American Indians today, and I hope we’ll get to hear even more stories from the spooky little town in Hawk’s future books.

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dancing Cat Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: American/Indian and Indigenous characters (Mostly Métis, Anishinaabe, and Cree), Black/Indo-Caribbean/Biracial character, gay male characters

Takes Place in: Toronto, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

In a futuristic world ravaged by global warming, people have lost the ability to dream, and the dreamlessness has led to widespread madness. The only people still able to dream are North America’s Indigenous people, and it is their marrow that holds the cure for the rest of the world. But getting the marrow, and dreams, means death for the unwilling donors. Driven to flight, a fifteen-year-old and his companions struggle for survival, attempt to reunite with loved ones and take refuge from the “recruiters” who seek them out to bring them to the marrow-stealing “factories.”

***CONTENT WARNING: In this review I will be discussing Indigenous American (Canadian, Mexican, and the US) history and residential schools/Indian boarding schools, with a primary focus on Canada where the Marrow Thieves takes place. I will be touching on genocide, forced assimilation, abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and addiction. There will also be images of verbal abuse and the effects of trauma. Please proceed with caution and take breaks if you need to. For my Indigenous readers: if you feel at all distressed or disturbed while reading this, or just need support in general, there are resources for the US and Canada here and here respectively. If you need extra help you can also find Indigenous-friendly therapists here and here to talk to. If you are a abuse survivor, are being abused, or know someone who is, please go here. There are further links at the end of the review. Please reach out if you need to!***

I have tried to use mainly Indigenous created articles, websites, books, films, and interviews for reference when writing this review. I have also included multiple quotes from residential school survivors, as I felt I could not do justice to their vastly different experiences without using their own words. However, I can only cover a fraction of a long and complex history. I strongly encourage everyone to check out the books, videos, and podcasts I have listed at the end of the review. Kú’daa Dr. Debbie Reese for providing such an excellent list of suggestions for residential school resources! They were a huge help in this review. And speaking or Dr. Reese, check out her review of The Marrow Thieves as well as Johnnie Jae’s Native book list. And another big thank you to Tiff Morris for being my sensitivity reader for this review. Your help and advice was invaluable! Wela’lin!

When I first read The Marrow Thieves years ago it didn’t impact me the way it does now. Back in 2017 a worldwide pandemic still existed solely in the realm of science fiction. Much like a giant asteroid destroying the earth, it was technically possible but so unlikely that such a scenario wasn’t worth worrying about. Re-reading the dystopian horror novel in 2020 was a completely different and utterly terrifying experience. Even knowing how the story would end was not enough to quell my anxiety and I felt on edge the entire time. The fact that Cherie Dimaline’s used real world atrocities committed against Indigenous people just makes the story feel even more plausible and horrifying. Water rightsviolence against Indigenous womencultural appropriationclimate change, cultural erasure, and the trauma caused by residential schools are all referenced.

The book opens with the protagonist Frenchie, a young Métis boy, watching helplessly as his Brother Mitch is beaten and kidnapped by Recruiters, a group of government thugs tasked with capturing Indigenous people for the purpose of extracting their bone marrow. Now alone, and with no idea how to survive on his own Frenchie has to be rescued from starvation by a small band of Indigenous (mostly Anishinaabe and Métis) travelers. The group welcomes the young boy as one of their own, and he soon comes to see them as an adoptive family as the ragtag bunch works together to survive and protect each other.

Miig is the patriarch of the group, an older gay gentleman who likes to speak in metaphor and teaches the older kids Indigenous history through storytelling. He also trains Frenchie and the others to hunt, travel undetected, and generally survive in their harsh new reality. Miig might seem cold at first but he genuinely loves the kids, he just prefers to show it through actions rather than words. Dimaline did an excellent job writing Miig and he felt like a real person rather that a lazy gay stereotype. I absolutely adore his character. He’s got the whole “gruff but kind dad” thing going. Minerva is another one of my favorites, a cool and cheerful Elder who acts as the heart of the group and teaches the girls Anishinaabemowin, as most of the kids have lost their original languages. She keeps all of them to the past. Minerva also raised the youngest member of the group, Riri, a curious and spunky 7-year-old who ends up bonding with Frenchie. Riri was only a baby when she was rescued and has no memory of a time before they were forced into a nomadic lifestyle in order to avoid the Recruiters so, unlike the others, she has nothing to miss. Cheerful and lively Riri never fails to raise everyone’s spirits or give them hope for a better future.

The rest of the kids range from nine to young adulthood. Wab is the eldest girl, beautiful and fierce and “as the woman of the group she was in charge of the important things.” Then there’s Chi-boy, a Cree teenager who rarely speaks. The youngest are the twins Tree and Zheegwan, followed by Slopper, a greedy 9-year-old from the east coast who likes to complain and brings his adoptive family the levity they all need. Later on they’re joined by Rose, a biracial Black/White River First Nation teen who Frenchie immediately develops a crush on. And I can’t really blame him because Rose is a total bad ass. All of them have lost people to the residential schools and some, like the twins, were even victims of “marrow thieves” themselves. But they all support each other and survive despite the difficulties they’ve faced.

No one knows what caused the dreamless disease rapidly infecting the country, an illness that causes the victim to stop dreaming and slowly descend into madness, only that Indigenous people are immune. And yes, I do appreciate the irony of a plague that only affects Colonizers. Perhaps it’s divine retribution for Jeffery Amherst’s (yes that Amherstgerm warfare. When their immunity is discovered people begin to flock to Native nations begging for help. But Indigenous people are understandably reluctant, having been burned too many times before. They don’t want to share their sacred ceremonies and traditions with outsiders, and for very good reason. Non-Natives quickly get tired of asking and do what they do best: take what they want, in this case Indigenous practices and later Indigenous bodies. The few survivors who do manage to escape the new residential schools often return with parts of themselves missing, an apt metaphor for real residential schools. Although set in a fictional future The Marrow Thieves dives into a past that Colonialism has actively tried to suppress.

Indigenous history is rarely taught in either US or Canadian schools (outside of elective courses) and what is taught is often grossly inaccurate. To quote Dr. Debbie Reese’s post about representation in the best-selling paperbacks of all time: “23,999,617 readers (children, presumably) have read about savage, primitive, heroic, stealthy, lazy, tragic, chiefs, braves, squaws, and papooses.” In America we’re taught that the Wampanoag (who are never mentioned by name) showed up to save their pilgrims friends from starvation and celebrate the first Thanksgiving, with no mention of the English massacre of the Pequot, Natives being sold into slavery, or the Colonists’ grave robbing. After 1621, mentions of American Indians are scarce to non-existent. There might be a brief paragraph here and there in a high school textbook about the Iroquois Nation siding with the British in the Revolutionary War, or the Trail of Tears.

2015 study of US history classes, grades K-12, showed that over 86% of schools didn’t teach modern (post-1900) Indigenous history and American Indians were largely portrayed “as barriers to America progress. As a result, students might think that Indigenous People are gone for one reason—they were against the creation of the United States.” Few students are ever told about the mass genocide of American Indians, smallpox blankets, the government’s unlawful seizure of Native land, the many broken treaties, destruction of culture, and forced experimentation. American Indian writer and activist Suzan Shown Harjo points out in an interview “When you move a people from one place to another, when you displace people, when you wrench people from their homelands, wasn’t that genocide? We don’t make the case that there was genocide. We know there was, yet here we are.” You would think that American history would dedicate more than a paragraph to THE PEOPLE WHO FUCKING LIVED IN AMERICA. I’m not that familiar with the Canadian education system, but according to Métis writer and legal scholar Chelsea Vowel they’re not much better at teaching the history of First Nation, Inuit, and Métis people. The omission of Indigenous Americans and Canadians from history lessons is just another form of erasure that contributes to the continued systemic oppression of First Peoples by a racist and colonialist system.

A White teacher stands in front of her class and is pointing to racist, stereotypical cartoon images of Pilgrims and Indians. The teacher says “The Indians helped the pilgrims and they became best friends! Then the Indians all voluntarily left so we could found America. Too bad there aren’t any Indians anymore!” The only non-White child in the class, a Native girl raises her hand and say “Um, actually the Wampanoag and lots of other American Indian tribes are still around even though the colonizers tried to get rid of us and stole our land. I’m Seneca and my family and I are still here.” The cheerful teacher says “I said…” then she turns menacing “…The Indians and Pilgrims were FRIENDS and they left voluntarily. So stop making things up. Now it’s time to make construction paper Indian head dresses kids!”

The sad thing is, the “Pilgrim and Indian” drawings are based on actual, present day “lessons” from teaching websites. This comic is loosely based on my experience as the only Black kid in class when we learned about the Civil War. The Seneca girl is wearing a “Every Child Matters” orange shirt for Residential Schools survivors.

White supremacist Andrew Jackson believed American Indians had “neither the intelligence, the industry, the moral habits, not the desire of improvement” and used this to justify the numerous acts of Cultural Genocide he committed. One of the worst was the Indian Removal Act, which forced the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole to choose between assimilation or leaving their homelands. Justin Giles, assistant director of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation Museum, describes it as, “You can have one of two things: you can keep your sovereignty, but you can’t keep your land. If you keep your land you have to assimilate and no longer be Indian… you can’t have both.” While reading The Marrow Thieves, I was struck by how much the world Dimaline created felt like a futuristic Nazi Germany. It makes sense considering “American Indian law played a role in the Nazi formulation of Jewish policies and laws” according to professor of law Robert J. Miller. Good job America, you helped create the Holocaust. I’m sure Andrew Jackson would be proud.

But people tend to object to mass murder and breaking treaties, even in the 1830’s. Jackson’s Indian Removal Act was controversial and drew a great deal of criticism, most notably from Davy Crockett and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Christian missionary and activist Jeremiah Evarts wrote a series of famous essays against the Removal Act that accused Jackson of lacking in morality. So even back then folks hated the 7th president for being a lying, racist piece of shit. Of course that didn’t necessarily mean they were accepting of the people they saw as “savages.” A line from They Called it Prairie Light sums it up best: “Europeans were at first skeptical of the humanity of the inhabitants of the American continents, but most were soon persuaded that these so-called Indians had souls worthy of redemption.”  So how could they “kill” Indians without actually killing them and looking like the bad guys? Richard Henry Pratt came up with the solution. Changing everything about Indigenous people to make them as close to Whiteness as possible.

“A great general has said that the only good Indian is a dead one. In a sense, I agree with the sentiment but only in this: that all the Indian there is in the race should be dead. Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” – Richard Henry Pratt

Pratt was a former Brigadier General who had fought in the Union during the Civil War. He spoke out against racial segregation, lead an all Black regiment known as the “Buffalo Soldiers” in 1867 (yes, the ones from the Bob Marley song), and unlike Jackson, actually viewed the American Indians as people. Unfortunately, like most “White Saviors,” Pratt was ignorant, misguided and believed Euro-Americans were superior. “Federal commitment to boarding schools and their ‘appropriate’ education for Native Americans sprouted from the enduring rootstock of European misperceptions of America’s natives.” (Tsianina Lomawaima). And so Pratt decided the best way to help American Indians was to remove children from their homes to teach them “the value of hard work” and the superiority of Euro-American culture. Pratt had already practiced turning Cheyenne prisoners of war at Fort Marion into “good Indians” and he was convinced an Indian school would be equally successful. So in 1879 he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the first Indian boarding school in the US.

“Soon, they needed too many bodies, and they turned to history to show them how to best keep us warehoused, how to best position the culling. That’s when the new residential schools started growing up from the dirt like poisonous brick mushrooms. We go to the schools and they leach the dreams from where our ancestors hid them, in the honeycombs of slushy marrow buried in our bones. And us? Well, we join our ancestors, hoping we left enough dreams behind for the next generation to stumble across.”

Miig telling the kids how the bone marrow harvesting started.

“Civilizing” American Indian children by separating them from their cultural roots and teaching them Eurocentric values was not a new idea: The Catholic church had already been doing it for years. But it was Pratt who made it widespread. At the school, students were forced to cut their long hair, adopt White names and clothing, speak only in English, and convert to Christianity. Failure to comply would be met with corporal punishment from Pratt, who ran the school like an army barrack. Understandably, Indigenous people —   who had no reason to trust a nation of treaty breakers —    were initially reluctant to send their children away from their families to go to school. But Pratt convinced Lakota chief Siŋté Glešká aka Spotted Tail (one of three chiefs who had travelled to Washington to try and convince President Grant to honor the treaties the US had made) that an English education was essential to survival in an increasingly Euro-centric America. He argued that if Spotted Tail and his people were able to read the treaties they signed, they never would’ve been forced from their land. He would teach the students so they could return home and in turn help their people. Reluctantly the chief agreed to send the children Dakota Rosebud reservation, including his own sons, to Carlise. Ten years later Pratt’s “save the Indian” goal became a National policy and Natives no longer had a choice in the matter.

“As girls, Martha and young Frances found the atmosphere of the school alien, unfriendly, and oppressive. Both had been raised by nurturing parents of the leadership class, and neither had been abused as a child. They had learned the traditions and laws of their tribes, but the church had not had a strong presence on the San Manuel Reservation. When the girls entered the St. Boniface school, their parents had agreed to their enrollment so that they could cope better with an ever-changing society dominated by non-Indians. Furthermore, their parents expected them to be future leaders of the tribe and felt that training at an off-reservation boarding school would better prepare them for tribal responsibilities.” (Trafzer)

Canada was also pushing for assimilation and, using Pratt’s Residential School model, began to develop their own “off-reserve” schools. In 1920 Duncan Campbell Scott, the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Canada from 1913 to 1932, passed the Indian Act. The bill made school attendance mandatory for all Indigenous children under the age of 15. Anyone who refused could be arrested and their children taken away by truant officers, the basis for Dimaline’s Recruiters. Residential school survivor Howard Stacy Jones describes how she was snatched by Mounted Police from her public school in Port Renfrew British Columbia and brought to a residential school: “I was kidnapped when I was around six years old, and this happened right in the schoolyard. My auntie and another witnessed this… saw me fighting, trying to get away from the two RCMP officers that threw me in the back seat of the car and drove away with me. My mom didn’t know where I was for three days.”

Scott famously said “I want to get rid of the Indian problem. . . Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no Indian Department, that is the whole object of this Bill.” Schools in the US and Canada did have some dissimilarities. While the U.S. moved away from mission schools in favor of government run ones, most Canadian residential schools continue to be run by Christian missionaries and supported by several churches. As a result, federal control was weaker in Canada and the goal of converting Indigenous people to Catholicism and Protestantism remained at the forefront. Interestingly, during my research I found that Indigenous people reported a wide variety of experiences in US residential schools ranging from positive to negative, whereas the stories about Canadian ones were overwhelmingly negative.  It’s possible that the Canadian residential schools were somehow worse than US ones, possibly due to the strong influence of the state and little government regulation, but I don’t want to draw conclusions on a topic I simply don’t know enough about. Besides it’s not my place to compare the experiences of survivors like that.

Still, I was genuinely surprised to find so many positive memories reported by former US residential school students who felt they benefited from their time there. While conducting interviews for They Called it Prairie Light Tsianina Lomawaima revealed that former Chilocco students had nothing but good things to say about L. E. Correll, the school’s superintendent from 1926 to 1952. “The participants in this research concurred unanimously in their positive assessment of Correll’s leadership, a testimonial to his commitment to students and the school. Alumni references to Mr. Correll… all share a positive tone. He is described as Chilocco’s ‘driving force,’ ‘wonderful,’ [and] ‘a fine man, we called him ‘Dad Correll.'” I bring this up not to minimize the damage the schools did nor excuse the atrocities they committed, but to illustrate the complexity of this topic. It would also be disingenuous not include the wide range of experiences at these schools. Another student at Chilocco wrote a letter to a North Dakota Agency complaining of a broken collarbone and not enough to eat only to be told to stop “whining about little matters.” Another student refused to Chilocco explaining, “I could stay there [at Chilocco) if they furnished clothing and good food. I don’t like to have bread and water three times a day, and beside work real hard, then get old clothes that been wear for three years at Chilocco [sic]. I rather go back to Cheyenne School.”

Regardless, all the schools caused lasting damage to Indigenous culture and communities. What Canada and the US claimed called assimilation “more accurately should be called ethnic cleansing…” explains Dr. Jennifer Nez Denetdale a Najavo Professor of American Studies at the University of New Mexico. Pratt may have had good intentions, but remember what they say the road to hell is paved with. Much like voluntourism today attempts to “help” American Indians through assimilation were rooted in colonialism and hurt more than they helped. Forrest S. Cuch, former director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs describes the damage done to his tribe, the Utes. “Assimilation affected the Utes in a very tragic way. It was so ineffective that it did not train us to become competent in the White World and it took us away from our own culture, so much so that we weren’t even competent as Indians anymore.” “Children do not understand their language and they’re Navajos. This was done to us.” explained Navajo/Dine elder Katherine Smith. Assimilation was nothing short of Cultural genocide as defined by the 2015 the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada:

“…the destruction of those structures and practices that allow the group to continue as a group. States that engage in cultural genocide set out to destroy the political and social institutions of the targeted group… Languages are banned. Spiritual leaders are persecuted, spiritual practices are forbidden, and objects of spiritual value are confiscated and destroyed. And, most significantly to the issue at hand, families are disrupted to prevent the transmission of cultural values and identity from one generation to the next.”

Residential boarding schools are yet another atrocity that remains suspiciously absent from American and Canadian history books, but they are popular in Indigenous horror (Rhymes for Young GhoulsThe Candy MeisterThese Walls), and for good reason. Survivors describe deplorable living conditions, rampant abuse, rape, starvation, and being torn away from their families and culture. Homesickness was a common problem for young children who had spent their entire lives surrounded by family. Ernest White Thunder, the son of chief White Thunder, became so homesick and depressed he refused to eat or take medicine until he finally died.

“Students arriving at Chilocco [Residential School] met the discrepancies between institutional life and family life at every turn. Military discipline entailed a high level of surveillance of students but constant adult supervision and control was impossible. The high ratio of students to adults and the comprehensive power wielded by those few adults compromised any flowering of surrogate parenting. In the dormitories, four adults might be responsible for over two hundred children. The loss of the parent/child relationship and the attenuated contact with school personnel reinforced bonds among the students, who forged new kinds of family ties within dorm rooms, work details, and gang territories. Dormitory home life-siblings and peers, living quarters and conditions, food and clothing, response to discipline-dominates narratives.”  (Tsianina Lomawaima)

Running away was common and could end tragically. Kathleen Wood shared one of her memories of students who ran away: “There were three boys that ran away from [Chuska Boarding School]. They wanted to go home… They were three brothers, they were from Naschitti. They ran away from here as winter… They did find the boys after a while, but the sad part is all three boys lost their legs.” Not everyone survived their attempts to return home, as was the tragic case for Chanie “Charlie” Wenjack (trigger warning for description of child death). At the Fort William Indian Residential School 6 children died and 16 more disappeared.

Indigenous children first entering residential school would often have their long hair cut short, an undoubtedly traumatic experience for many children. For the Cheyenne the cutting of hair is done as a sign of mourning and deathRoy Smith, a member of the Navajo Nation (Diné) where long hair is an essential part of one’s identity, describes his experience: “They all looked at me when they were giving me my haircut… My long hair falling off. And I was really hurt. The teaching from my grandfather was… your long hair is your strength, and your long hair is your wisdom, your knowledge.” Hair is also holds spiritual importance to the Nishnawbe Aski. An anonymous Nishnawbe Aski School survivor was left deeply hurt be her hair cut:

“When I was a girl. I had nice long black hair. My mother used to brush my hair for me and make braids. I would let the braids hang behind me or I would move them over my shoulders so they hung down front. I liked it when they were in front because I could see those little colored ribbons and they reminded me of my mother. Before I left home for residential school at Kenora my mother did my hair up in braids so I would look nice when I went to school. The first thing they did when I arrived at the school was to cut my braids off and throw them away. I was so hurt by their actions and I cried. It was as if they threw a part of me away – discarded in the garbage.” – Anonymous

***Content warning, descriptions of child abuse and sexual assault and an image of verbal abuse of a child below***

Students were severely beaten for not displaying unquestioning obedience and sometimes for no reason at all. Those in charge would constantly reinforce the message that Indigenous people were stupid, worthless, and inferior to Whites, destroying the children’s sense of self-worth. Some students were forced to kneel for long stretches of time, hold up heavy books in their outstretched arms, or locked in the basement for hours. Children would be force-fed spoiled meat and fish until they vomited, then forced to eat their own vomit. Some were even electrocuted. Chief Edmund Metatawabin recalls his experience at St. Anne’s Indian Residential School:

There was [an electric chair with] a metal handle on both sides you have to hold on to and there were brothers and sisters sitting around in the boys’ room. And of course the boys were all lined up. And somebody turned the power on and you can’t let go once the power goes on. You can’t let go… my feet were flying in front of me and I heard laughter. The nuns and the brothers were all laughing.” – Edmund Metatawabin

From 1992 until 1998 Ontario Provincial Police launched an investigation into the abuse at St. Anne’s Residential School after Chief Edmund Metatawabin presented them with evidence of the crimes. The police took statements from 700 St. Anne’s survivors, many of whom described incidents of sexual assault and abuse involving priests, nuns, and other staff. During her interview one survivor said “This shouldn’t have happened to us. They’re God’s workers, they were to look after us.” (link contains graphic descriptions of abuse). One figure estimates that one in five  students were sexually abused when attending residential school. But schools would cover up the abuse, and anyone who complained was intimidated into silence.

A priest is forcing a ball and chain, representing trauma, to a little girl in a residential school uniform. She is surrounded by red and orange speech bubbles saying cruel things like "Dirty Indian!," "Shut up! Stupid Girl! Do as you're told!," "Savage!," and "You're going to hell for your pagan beliefs. You need religion."

The verbal abuse shown here is paraphrased from actual things said to Residential school survivals. They are taken from interviews and autobiographies. If you or someone you know is being abused, go here. Learn more about forms of abuse here.

All this pain and suffering was committed under the pretense of “civilizing” Native people, when in reality it was Cultural Genocide driven by White supremacy. “The whole move was to make Indian children white… Of course, at the end of the school experience, the children still weren’t white. They were not accepted by White mainstream America. When they went back to their tribal homelands, they didn’t fit in at home anymore either.” says Kay McGowan, who teaches cultural anthropology at Eastern Michigan University. Inuvialuit author Margaret Pokiak-Fenton describes how her mother did not even recognize her when she returned home in her children’s book Not my Girl. As if the rejection wasn’t heart breaking enough, Margaret had forgotten much of her own language and struggled to communicate with her family. Another residential school survivor, Elaine Durocher, says “They were there to discipline you, teach you, beat you, rape you, molest you, but I never got an education…. [instead] it taught me how to lie, how to manipulate, how to exchange sexual favors for cash, meals, whatever the case may be.” In a video for Women’s Centre she volunteers at she discusses how “The teachers were always hitting us because we were just ‘stupid Indians'”.

***End of content warning***

“[People] need to know that it was an event that happened to a lot of kids, that it wasn’t just a few; it was literally thousands of kids that suffered. I’ve come to realize that there were also others where the experience for them was actually very good, and I don’t question that. I can only relate to mine. Mine wasn’t a good one, and I know a lot of really good friends who also did not have a good experience.” – Joseph Williams

In The Marrow Thieves the government and the church join forces to perform experiments on prisoners, and later Indigenous people, in order to find a cure for the dreamless plague. And if you were hoping that was just a metaphor for destroying cultural identities and real residential schools never sunk so low as to experiment on helpless children, well, you’d be wrong. Science has a dark history of exploiting the most vulnerable populations for unethical experiments. In the U.S. alone enslaved women were tortured and mutilated by the father of gynecology  without any form of anesthesia (1845-1849), the government backed Tuskegee syphilis experiment (1932-1972) infected hundreds of Black men without their knowledge or consent, a stuttering experiment (1939) performed on orphans is now known as “The Monster Study,” elderly Jewish patients were injected with liver cancer cells (1963) to “discover the secret of how healthy bodies fight the invasion of malignant cells,” and inmates in the Holmesburg Prison were used to test the effects of various toxic chemicals on skin (1951-1974).

In the 1920s experimental eyes surgeries to treat trachoma were conducted on Southwestern US Natives. The contagious eye disease became an epidemic on Southwestern reservations, affecting up to 40% of some tribal groups. “Some tribes, such as the Navajo, experienced no “sore eyes” prior to their defeat by the United States, yet once confined to the reservation, they witnessed a significant increase in unexplained eye problems.” (Trennert) GEE I WONDER WHY. Maybe it had something to do with being forced to live in poverty on shitty reservations where their access to healthcare and sanitation was limited? The government decided to “help” by once again making it worse. The Indian office opened an eye clinic and hired the Otolaryngologist Dr. Ancil Martin to run it. Dr. Martin began the student treatment program before he had any idea how to cure trachoma. He decided to test out a surgical procedure called “grattage” which involved cutting the granules off the eyelids (without anesthesia of coure). One little girl described the experience: “During the operation they cut off little rough things from under the eyelid. It was a grisly scene, with blood running all over. The children had to be held down tight.” (Trennert) Unfortunately the experimental treatment only provided temporary relief and those children who recovered where left with permanent damage to their eyelids. Later, as part of the “Southwestern Trachoma Campaign,” ophthalmologist Dr. Webster Fox convinced the Indian Office to take even more drastic measures and surgically remove the tarsus (the plate of connective tissue inside each eyelid that contributes to the eyelids form and support). His reasoning for this was because he did not believe Indians would submit to prolonged treatment and it was better to “remove the disease more quickly and with less deformity than the way Nature goes about it.” Yikes.

In case you were hoping this was a tragic but isolated incident, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. When giving testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada survivors consistently described an environment where “hunger was never absent.” Residential school meals were typical low in calories (they ranged from 1000 to 1450 calories per day, undernourishment is considered less than 1,800 calories per day), vegetables, fruit, protein, and fat, all essential parts of a growing child’s diet. “We cried to have something good to eat before we sleep. A lot of the times the food we had was rancid, full of maggots, stink. Sometimes we would sneak away from school to go visit our aunts or uncles, just to have a piece of bannock.” explained school survivor Andrew Paul. Food-borne illnesses were another common occurrence. Although at least partly due to negligence or a lack of funds some schools intentionally withheld food to see how the children’s bodies would react to malnutrition, especially as they fought off viruses and infections. “When investigators came to the schools in the mid-1940s they discovered widespread malnutrition at both of the schools” explained food historian Dr. Ian Mosby. ” “In the 1940s, there were a lot of questions about what are human requirements for vitamins… Malnourished aboriginal people became viewed as possible means of testing these theories.” Mosby said an interview with the Toronto Star. And so Indigenous Canadian children became unwitting guinea pigs in an unethical study. Between 1942 and 1952 Dr. Percy Moore, head of the superintendent for medical services for the Department of Indian Affairs, and Dr. Frederick Tisdall, former president of the Canadian Pediatric Society performed illicit nutrition experiments on students at St. Mary’s School. Milk and dairy rations were withheld. Instead children were given a fortified flour mixture containing B vitamins and bone meal. The experimental supplement impacted their development and caused children to become dangerously anemic, and continued to have negative effects on them as adults. Incidentally, this experimental flour mix was illegal in the rest of Canada.

A decade later the U.S. Air Force’s Arctic Aeromedical Laboratory in Fairbanks wanted to study the role the thyroid gland played in acclimating humans to cold in hopes of improving their operational capability in cold environments. The hypothesis was that Alaskan Natives were somehow physically better adapted to cold environments than White people This is another example of scientific racism as the study didn’t bother looking at the White inhabitants of the Arctic Circle:  Greenlanders, who hypothetically should have a similar resistance to the cold. Instead, they chose to focus on Alaskan Natives almost as if they were a different species. The othering didn’t end there. Participants (84 Inuit, 17 Athabascan Indians, and 19 White service members) were given a medical tracer, the radioisotope iodine 131 to measure thyroid function. Guess who wasn’t told they were part of the experiment? Instead of informing the Indigenous test subjects they were participating in a research study as would’ve been required by the recently created Nuremberg Code (the first point in the code literally says “The voluntary consent of the human subject is absolutely essential”), the scientists just said “Fuck it, we do what we want!” I mean, it’s not like someone might want to know they were being given RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL or anything right? Not only did the experiment offer no potential benefit to the Alaskan Natives who participated but the original hypothesis was disproven. The Airforce provided no follow up tests or treatment for the test subjects to insure they hadn’t suffered any long-term effects.

Students at Kenora residential school were used as test subjects for ear infection drugs, again without their knowledge or consent. School nurse Kathleen Stewart wrote in her report “The most conspicuous evidence of ear trouble at Cecilia Jeffrey School has been the offensive odor of the children’s breath, discharging ears, lack of sustained attention, poor enunciation when speaking and loud talking,” In a follow-up report she noted three children “were almost deaf with no ear drums, six had [hearing in] one ear gone.”

Human research violations aren’t just a problem of the distant past before the IRB was established. In 1979 Native leaders asked researchers to help them assess the drinking problem in their community in Barrow, Alaska. They were hoping to cooperate with them to find a solution. Instead the researchers went ahead and publicly shared the results of the Barrow Alcohol Study with news outlets. Because the study implied the majority of adults in Barrow were alcoholics (which was inaccurate), left out the socioeconomic context which led to drinking problems, and then announced the results without representatives from the tribal community, it caused both a great deal of shame and direct financial harm. Starting in the 1990s, Arizona State University obtained blood from the Havasupai tribe under false pretenses. Instead of using the samples for diabetes research like they had promised the tribal members, researchers used the Havasupai’s DNA for a wide range of genetic studies. This continued until 2003 when a Havasupai college student discovered how the blood was being used without permission. Carletta Tilousi explained in an NPR Interview “Part of it is it was a part of my body that was taken from me, a part of my blood and a part of our bodies as Native-Americans are very sacred and special to us and we should respect it.”

Keeping all this in mind the dystopian future that Dimaline created suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Indigenous people have already had their land stolen, their graves robbed, their children kidnapped, and their culture appropriated. They’ve even had their blood taken under false pretenses. Indigenous children held prisoner in residential schools were deliberately starved and denied access to basic healthcare all in the name of science. The Marrow Thieves feels especially poignant right now, with the Americas experiencing (at the time of writing this) some of the highest Covid-19 rates in the world. Who would we sacrifice to find a cure? Pfizer, the company responsible for making one of the two currently available Covid vaccines did illegal human research as recently as the 90’s. “What does it mean when the disproportionate disease burden currently faced by Indigenous communities is, in large part, the product of a residential system that the TRC has found was nothing short of a cultural genocide?” asks Mosby. “In part, it means that we need to rethink the current behavioral and pharmacologic approaches… in Indigenous communities. In their place, we need more community-driven, trauma-informed and culturally appropriate interventions… [and] also acknowledge the role of residential schools in determining the current health problems faced by residential school survivors and their families…[M]ost importantly, we need to demand that the next generation of Indigenous children have access to the kinds of plentiful, healthy, seasonal and traditional foods that were denied to their parents and grandparents, as a matter of government policy” he argues.

The worst part about the residential school is that even after they closed, their legacy remained and the damage they did would affect future generations. A report entitled Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the Conversation states “The [Royal Commission on Aboriginals Peoples] named residential schools as a significant cause of family violence in Indigenous communities… and the intergenerational impacts of residential schools on the prevalence continues to be recognized…”. Many of the abused students became abusers themselves, taking out their pain, fear, and frustration on the younger children. After leaving the school, survivors continued to suffer from low self esteem, hopelessness, painful memories and severe mental, social, and emotional damage. Boarding school trauma was then passed down from parent to child and the cycle of abuse would continue.  Because the children were deprived of affection and family during their formative years, many of them left residential school emotionally stunted and unable to openly express love, even towards their own children.

“Few [students] came out of residential schools having learned good boundaries, and good boundaries included some sense of self-determination, sovereignty over your own body. They didn’t have any control over that, and they didn’t see people around with appropriate behavior and being respectful of them as human beings, that they were sacred. And they were abused. Children learn what they live and that was their life.” – Sylvia Maracle, executive director of the Ontario Federation of Indigenous Friendship Centres.

Add in loss of land, racism, poverty, and a lack of healthcare and support and you’re left with a complex system of trauma that’s stacked against Indigenous people and their recovery. A report prepared for the Aboriginal Healing Foundation entitled Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada states:

 “Social and political violence inflicted upon Aborigional children, families and communities by the state and the churches through the residential school system not only created the patterns of violence communities are now experiencing but also introduced the family and community to behaviors that are impeding collective recovery.”

In her award-winning autobiography They Called Me Number One writer and former Xat’sull chief Bev Sellars discusses the long-lasting damage to her done by St. Joseph’s Mission.  Sellars watched helplessly as her brother’s personality completely changed as a result of sexual abuse and he began to take out his rage and pain on her. Sellar’s own trauma affected the way she interacted with her three children. She practiced an authoritarian style of parenting she had learned from the school and expected her children to hide their pain instead of expressing it as she was forced to do. Because the only touch Sellars experienced at the residential school was painful and abusive she feared any form of physical contact and was unable to hug anyone until her own children were grown. She continued to fear disobeying any White person or authority figure and made her want her children to behave perfectly in front of Whites.

She describes how she suffered from panic attacks, migraines, nightmares, memory problems, emotional numbness, angry outbursts, shame and phobias after attending the residential school. Because her complaints of mistreatment were dismissed and summarily punished by those in charge, Sellars developed a learned helplessness and “why bother?” attitude. Years of brainwashing by the nuns and priests caused Sellars to see “the world through the tunnel vision of the mission” and led her to believe she was inferior because she was Indigenous. Those familiar with trauma will recognize these as PTSD symptoms commonly seen in survivors. Unfortunately, emotional and mental health were still poorly understood in the 1960s and medical services are limited on reservations forcing survivors like Sellars to find other ways to numb their pain.

***Content warning for image of depressive thoughts below***

The girl from earlier is now a grown woman. She looks depressed, is wearing dark clothing, and hugging herself. The ball and chain that represents trauma are chained around her ankle. Dark thoughts fill her head like: “I must have deserved it,” “Nothing will ever get better, what’s the point?,” “Maybe there really is something wrong with being Native…,””The pain will never stop. I’m so tired of it, I just want to be numb,” and “Everyone hurts me, I can’t trust anyone. I’m all alone.”

The ball and chain represent the trauma the residential school survivor has to carry around with her. Her thoughts are based on those common to people with trauma. Please contact a mental health provider (listed at the beginning and end of the review) if you have similar thoughts.

***End of content warning***

In The Marrow Thieves Wab eventually shares how her mother became addicted to alcohol and later crack cocaine. The stress of living in a dirty, overcrowded military state while trying not to starve or get taken away by the school staff became too much for her. Wab wonders if her mother could feel herself dying and just gave up. Alcohol and drugs are frequently abused by those who’ve experienced trauma or have untreated mental illness. In fact, childhood abuse is prevalent among alcoholics, and children who experience trauma are four to twelve times more likely to engage in substance abuse. Sellars’ brother never recovered from the sexual abuse he experienced at the hands of the priests and developed an addiction to alcohol. Others survivors die by suicide. According to the CDC the suicide rate among adolescent American Indians is more than twice the U.S. average and the highest of any ethnic groups. Amanda Blackhorse explains “…we’re still feeling the effects of boarding schools today… and it has completely demolished the Indigenous familial system. And many of our people are suffering and they don’t… realize that they are suffering from the boarding school system. Many of us don’t even understand it…”

However, while alcoholism is definitely a problem in Native populations the stereotype of the “drunken Indian” is no more than a harmful myth. Indigenous people aren’t “genetically more susceptible to alcoholism” and American Indians are actually more likely to abstain from alcohol that Whites.

 “The participants in this study talked about historical trauma as an ongoing problem that is at the root of substance abuse issues in their families and communities. Further, the participants believed their experiences to be shared or common among other AI families and communities. Feelings about historical trauma among the participants, their families, and/or their communities included disbelief that these events could have happened, sadness, and fear that such events could recur; however, there also were messages about strength and survival.” – Laurelle L. Myhra

This huge, horrible thing that scarred thousands of survivors and had long lasting effects for Indigenous populations is almost entirely unknown outside of Native, Inuit and Métis communities, and the Canadian Government continues to underfund education and health services for Indigenous children. But there are many Indigenous people, like Bev Sellars, who are not just surviving, but flourishing, and in turn helping others to recover. Indigenous founded and run groups such as The National Indigenous Women’s Resource CenterFreedom LodgeIndigenous Circle of Wellness, and Biidaaban Healing Lodge, are all working to heal generational trauma by combining traditional Indigenous healing practices and modern trauma-informed therapy to create a holistic approach to wellness and mental health. Horror and Apocalyptic Fiction has also given Indigenous creators a way to process this generational trauma and make a wider audience aware of these historical atrocities. But even with everything Indigenous people have suffered through, they’re still here. The Marrow Thieves similarly ends on a hopeful note with Frenchie and his friends holding their heads high as they march into the future.

The woman is now older, wearing bright clothing, and looks happy. She has a Native-made T-shirt that says “you are sacred.” The speech and though bubbles all have bright colors. People are giving the woman positive affirmations like “You aren’t alone,” “You deserve to be happy,” and “Don’t measure yourself by colonizer standards.” Her thoughts are happy now instead of dark. The woman thinks “I don’t need permission to speak, exist, or take up space,” “My language, beliefs, and culture are not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’,” “What was done to me was not my fault and it does not define me,” and “I am strong. I am brave. I have value.”

The girl from the residential school is all grown up, and with the support from her community has started to heal. Her trauma, now represented by a balloon to show the “weight” of it is now gone, is still there but is no longer impeding her ability to enjoy life. She finally feels free to celebrate her Chippewa culture and heritage, as reflected by her bright clothing and long braids. Her T-shirt is from Choctaw journalist and artist Johnnie Jae’s collection. Her skirt is based on the work of Chippewa fashion designer Delina White. Her scarf has a floral Chippewa design.

Sources:

Unspoken: America’s Native American Boarding Schools, PBS, 2016

The Indian Problem, The Smithsonian, 2016

In the White Man’s Image, PBS, 1992

Bopp, J., Bopp, M., and Lane, P.  Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation. 2003. https://epub.sub.uni-hamburg.de/epub/volltexte/2009/2900/pdf/aboriginal_domestic_violence.pdf

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. An Indigenous People’s History of the United States. Boston: Beacon Press, 2014.

Fortunate Eagle, Adam. Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School. University of Oklahoma Press, 2010.

Health Justice, Daniel. Why Indigenous Literature Matters. Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2018.

Holmes, C. and Hunt, S. Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the ConversationNational Collaborating Center for Aboriginal Health, 2017.  https://www.nccih.ca/docs/emerging/RPT-FamilyViolence-Holmes-Hunt-EN.pdf

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Not My Girl. Annick Press, 2014.

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Fatty Legs. Annick Press, 2010.

Mihesuah, Devon A. American Indians Stereotypes & Realities. 1996. Reprint. Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2009.

Mihesuah, Devon A. So you Want to Write About American Indians?: A Guide for Writers, Students, and Scholars. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005.

Pember, Mary Annette. “Death by Civilization.” Atlantic, 8 March. 2019.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/03/traumatic-legacy-indian-boarding-schools/584293/

Robertson, David Alexander. Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story. Highwater Press, 2012.

Sellars, Bev. They Called Me Number One: Secrets and Survival at an Indian Residential School. Talonbooks, 2013.

Sterling, Sherling. My Name is Seepeetza. Groundwood Books, 1992.

Trafzer, C. E., Keller, J.A., eds. Boarding School Blues: Revisiting American Indian Educational Experiences. Bison Books, 2006.

Treuer, Anton. Everything You Wanted to Know about Indians But Were Afraid to Ask. St Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2012.

Tsianina Lomawaima, K. They Called It Prairie Light: The Story of Chilocco Indian School. University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Robinson-Desjarlais, Shaneen (host). Residential Schools Podcast Series. Audio podcast, February 21, 2020. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools-podcast-series

Dawson, Alexander S. “Histories and Memories of the Indian Boarding Schools in Mexico, Canada, and the United States.” Latin American Perspectives 39, no. 5 (2012): 80-99. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41702285.

F4 by Larissa Glasser

F4 by Larissa Glasser

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Eraser Head Press

Genre: Blood & Guts, Body Horror, Monster, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans women, Bisexual women, Queer women

Takes Place in: North Atlantic ocean

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Bullying, Drug Use/Abuse, Death,  Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Mention of Medical Procedures, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Stalking, Suicide, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence 

Blurb

A cruise ship on the back of a sleeping kaiju. A transgender bartender trying to come terms with who she is. A rift in dimensions known as The Sway. A cruel captain. A storm of turmoil, insanity and magic is coming together and taking the ship deep into the unknown. What will Carol the bartender learn in this maddening non-place that changes bodies and minds alike into bizarre terrors? What is the sleeping monster who holds up the ship trying to tell her? What do Carol’s fractured sense of self and a community of internet trolls have to do with the sudden pull of The Sway?

Please note: This review was written before I was out as genderqueer. In the review I refer to myself as not being part of the trans/non-binary community. This inaccurate. 

The horror genre is not generally kind to trans-women, frequently depicting them as serial killers and/or sexual deviants. Hell, fiction in general doesn’t treat trans people well, forcing them into a victim role and focusing on their angst and dysphoria. So you can imagine how unbelievably excited I was when I learned that Eraserhead Press was publishing a horror story about a bad ass trans woman who fights monsters and alt-right trolls. Even better, it was being written by a trans woman! Glasser is  a librarian from Boston which makes her five-hundred times cooler in my eyes (I love librarians, they’re like keepers of secret knowledge and they know everything). The reviews for F4 have so far been unanimously positive, the premise sounded weird and awesome, and it promised representation rarely found in the horror genre. F4 was like everything I had wished for and I could not pre-order it fast enough.

Well, apparently whatever jinni decided to grant my wish for an awesome trans-lady horror story written by a trans person was one of those dick bag jinn who likes to pull that Monkey’s Paw shit, because I haven’t been this disappointed since I first saw Star Wars Episode One after months of hype.

 

I’m clutching handfuls of blue bills and angrily screaming at the Djinn from the Wishmaster film series who is looking please with himself. I yell “Why the FUCK would I wish for $100,000 in Zimbabwe dollars you unbelievable asshole!?!”

I guess I’m just lucky the Djinn didn’t give me $10,000 in pennies that fell from the sky and crushed me to death.

Carol, the main character of the story, is a trans-woman who works as a bartender on the Finasteride, a cruise ship built on the back of the F4. This name does not, in fact, come from one of those computer function keys that no one ever uses for anything (except maybe the F5 key), but instead refers to the last of four kaiju that mysteriously appeared on earth and fucked up a bunch of stuff. Okay, so far so good. Then, all of a sudden, everyone on board starts turning into eldritch abominations… and thus begins a confusing clusterfuck of unexplained randomness. The transformations may or may not have something to do with a dimensional rift called the Sway, which isn’t mentioned prior to everything going to hell, is never fully explained, and may or may not be common knowledge in the book’s world.  Carol’s creepy boss and his even creepier buddy are behind everything, because they want to sail into the Sway, but their motivation is never explained beyond some vague lust for power. Well, if it works for Saturday morning cartoon villains I guess it’s fine. There’s also a wizard who lives in the Sway and can control the Kaiju, who we’ve also never heard of before and who also isn’t really explained. Again, it’s really unclear whether this is common knowledge or not, or if the Sway is actually just some giant, extra-dimensional plot hole and we’re just expected to go with it. The weirdest part is that even though the wizard controls the kaiju, he isn’t evil despite his giant beasts killing millions of people. One of them even destroyed New York City looking for Carol (why though!?!), but fuck all those victims, I guess? Why is no one horrified by all this? Oh, and apparently Carol’s penis is some sort of magical flesh key or something, I don’t even know. Maybe her penis’ magic is why she gets erections constantly (and won’t shut up about it), despite having had an orchidectomy. Usually, having your testicles removed or going on testosterone blockers causes penis-having folk to have very few spontaneous erections (and some stop getting erections all together) so it seems really odd that Carol keeps getting constant danger boners (which would be an awesome band name) but I’m hardly an expert, so whatever.

In addition to her bartending duties, Carol also makes sex videos on the side with her friend Chole, another transwoman whom she’s slightly obsessed with. Carol’s wait staff of trans women, or “lady dicks” as she calls them, also make extra cash “servicing” the passengers of the Finasteride. This is the part that made me feel really weird. Frequently when trans people appear in fiction, it’s as some sort of sex worker, and they’re being written by cis folk who have little understanding of, or respect for both trans women or sex workers. It’s such a cliché that cops will actually harass trans women on the street because they assume they’re prostitutes. So having the majority of the trans women in a story do some sort of sex work felt problematic, especially since most of the clients appeared to consider them a fetish rather than real people. It certainly doesn’t help that Carol doesn’t even seem to like doing web-cam work, and is only tolerating it because Chole pressured her into making porn. I enjoy naked people having sexy fun times as much as the next person, especially when those people are queer and/or non-binary, and one of the things that originally drew me to F4 was the promise of erotica with trans-ladies. But when the participants are being pressured, exploited, or fetishized, porn is just gross. F4 felt more like the later. The sex scenes aren’t even arousing. One involves a toothless dude drooling in Carol’s ass crack as she feels uncomfortable and wishes it were over. Ick. Chole also gets sexually assaulted by one of the kaiju’s parasites in a really uncomfortable scene (which I think was supposed to be humorous?) and Carol does exactly jack and shit to help her friend. Maybe weird, unappealing sex is a staple of bizarro fiction, but trans women are disrespected enough in the porn industry, I was really hoping it wouldn’t happen here too.

The comic is titled “Trying to find trans porn.” The first panel says, “what I expected” and depicts me blushing and looking aroused while I imagine two women of color, one of whom is plus-sized, in an intimate situation looking lovingly at each color. The second panels says, “What I got” and shows me recoiling in horror and disgust from my laptop. A toxic green speech bubble reveals what is written on the screen, and is full of transphobic language like “Tr***y Sex”, “Trap Hentai”, and “Lady boys”.

F4 isn’t like the terrible, transphobic porn you might find online, but it’s not particularly good erotica either.

My confusion regarding the story line made it difficult to focus on the book (as did the frequent mention of dicks), and I probably would’ve given up on it completely if not for part two, the saving grace of F4. Part two is proof that Glasser really is a talented author. Instead of getting a bunch of random nonsense throw at us we get an intriguing and suspenseful, but straight forward story of Carol’s life prior to the Finasteride. Her character suddenly feels relatable. She’s dating a loser she can’t seem to dump, living in the middle of nowhere, and trying to figure out what to do with her life. Carol witnesses a murder, and tries to do the right thing by reporting it to the cops. But since no good deed goes unpunished, she finds herself in the media spot light after becoming a key witness in the murder case, and becomes a victim of an online hate campaign by a bunch of transphobic trolls. Part 2 is great! It’s intriguing, suspenseful, we finally get some explanations about what’s going on, and of course Glasser had to go and ruin it by making part 3 even more random and confusing. This just made me hate the rest of the book even more because I now knew I could’ve been enjoying a well-written story about a trans woman vs. a bunch of internet trolls, and dealing with the dilemma of being punished for doing the right thing. But instead I had to put up with awkward sex, magical girl dicks, and a series of loosely connected plot holes. So I became bitter and sulkily rushed through the third part of the story, desperate to find some of the magic from Part 2. The only thing that redeemed part 3 was Carol killing the two entitled dudebros who fucked everyone over for more power, one of whom was the leader of the internet trolls who ruined her life. That was immensely satisfying.

So yeah, I really didn’t like this book. Of course, I’m not trans (well, I am, but I wasn’t out when I first wrote this), so it’s possible my privilege was preventing me from recognizing the appeal of F4. All the reviews I had read online were overwhelming positive, so what was I missing? Was it just not intended for me? So I went to my friend, Ashley Rogers (who you may remember from the Oddity post), for help. I figured since she’s an author herself, a trans sensitivity reader, and a trans rights activist she’d be able to offer some valuable insight. Although Ashley is currently busy working on SCOWL: Fight for your Rights, a subversive, queer-focused, stage combat piece (I designed the logo so I have to shamelessly pimp the project), she was kind enough to take some time out of her busy schedule to share her opinion with me. I also asked her to explain what Glasser meant when she kept talking about “hatching eggs”, but Ashley didn’t know either, nor did any of the other trans and non-binary people I asked, and I eventually had to resort to Reddit and Urban Dictionary.

I’m climbing through the window of my friend, Ashley Roger’s, apartment (presumably having broken in). “Ashley help! What does it mean for a trans person to “hatch”? Are magical dicks empowering or weird? What about trans porn?” I ask. Ashley, a tall woman with a fashionable blue top, blond-streaked, shoulder length hair, and expertly done make-up, is sitting on the couch and leaning away from me, looking annoyed. “How do you keep getting in here?” she demands.

It turns out “eggs” refer to closeted trans folk still struggling with their identity who have not yet come into their own.

Ashley had the following to say:

First a disclaimer: Trans/n-b folk can and should be able to tell whatever stories we want.  I love bizarre and spooky material, and I want trans folk to succeed, and regardless of my feelings on this novel I am excited to see more from Larissa Glasser…
Buuuuuuuut…

My main criticism is that the piece doesn’t seem to know what it wants or who it’s written for. F4 intends to shock (evidenced by the material referenced in the piece such as Cannibal Holocaust and The Human Centipede) but it falls short of living up to those expectations.  We don’t live in the uncomfortable moments and grotesque situations long enough to care.  At most we’re left with a sense of “ok… That’s fucked up,” but then we move on to something else before we have a chance to feel unsettled.

Part two feels like a completely different (and subjectively better) novel entirely.  I was gripped by the backstory and it had a great flow, and some of the concepts are really cool (Hell, it’s about turning a Kaiju into a cruise liner!!), but as a trans woman I couldn’t help but be bored by how often Carol popped a boner in the face of danger.  One of the positive critiques I’ve seen from other trans women is that it’s a story that isn’t about a trans character who’s sad, angry, and depressed about surgical transition/dysphoria but the way the author focuses on Carol’s anatomy and overly sexual descriptions rather than creating the atmosphere distracts from the story and intriguingly bizarre concept of the piece in the same way these other pieces focus on the tragedy porn that gets written about our physical transition struggles.  If this book was all part two I would be writing a very different statement but… I wish it were either more shocking in execution or more approachable in material, but as it stands it sits in limbo of both.

I won’t lie, I feel genuinely guilty about not liking F4. I mean, everyone else loves it, and I want to be supportive of trans and non-binary folk in a cis-centric genre, but I just could not enjoy the story. I had no idea what was going on half the time, a lot of it just seemed to be weird for the sake of weirdness and contributed nothing to the story, and, the sex scenes felt more gross and exploitative than sexy and empowering. I liked the ideas behind F4, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Glasser clearly has talent as a writer, as is evident from part 2 of the story, so maybe I just don’t like bizzaro horror, I don’t know.  At the very least I can say it’s like nothing I’ve ever read before. In the mean time, I’m going to stick to reading Nerve Endings when I’m in the mood for some well written trans erotica.

Oddity by Ashley Lauren Rogers

Genre: Body Horror, Historic Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Trans characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Procedures, Transphobia/Misgendering, Violence

Blurb

A “Gender Specialist” is brought into a secret Victorian–Era medical facility deep within the earth to unravel the mystery of a series of murders and body mutilations which have taken place. As he meets the sole survivor and begins to unravel the mystery as his claustrophobic paranoia begins to overtake him the specialist finds it hard to believe anything he’s told.

So, full disclosure, this isn’t so much a review as it is an unpaid promotion for my friend’s new play Oddity, and I’ve only read the script, not seen the play itself. But fear not, this isn’t one of those situations where I felt pressured to pay compliments for the sake of our friendship, both because Ashley is an incredibly talented writer and I love reading her stuff, and because I’m an asshole who will let my friends know exactly what I think in the least tactful way imaginable. Which is probably why no one ever asks for my opinion…

My wife watched me draw this and wanted to know why I put her in such an ugly skirt. “It’s for the review honey!”

Anyway, like I said, Ashley is a talented writer who has written for CosmopolitanThe Mary Sue, SFWA, and John Scalzi Blog. And for you other writers out there looking to diversify your work, she also developed a workshop for writing trans and nonbinary narratives available on WritingTheOther.com. She’s also the one who introduced me to Rick and Morty and has fantastic hair. Neither of those things has anything to do with her writing, she just has excellent taste.

 
Ashley’s new play, Oddity, is part of the Trans Theatre Fest at The Brick in Brooklyn. It’s a creepy, suspenseful, psychological body horror play about gender that includes: flashbacks to a carnival freak show, a subterranean steampunkesque facility à la Jules Verne, and monster crabs (the crustacean kind, not the pubic lice kind).
 
 The plays starts with terrified screams and the professor (who’s never given a name) violently awakens to a doctor trying to push mysterious pills on him, a soldier “guarding” his room who won’t use his correct pronouns or let him out for “classified” reasons, and the discovery that he’s been losing time. His concerns are dismissed, his questions ignored, and he’s consistently told to calm down. The professor is experiencing classic gaslighting, and here’s the brilliant bit: between the dreams, flashbacks, lies, discrepancies, seemingly out-of-place items, and all around weird occurrences, it’s difficult to determine what’s real and what isn’t, mirroring the professor’s paranoia. At parts, I found myself frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and unnerved by the overall feeling of “wrongness”. The body horror was pretty scary in and of itself, but it was the gaslighting that was truly terrifying. But fear not, everything makes sense in the end.
 
In fact, the ending was probably my favorite part. When everything finally falls into place it hits you like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help yelling out a few expletives in surprise (much to the annoyance of my napping cat). This was literally my reaction while reading the play: “Hmmm, okay, that’s creepy. Wait, what the…WHAT? WTF!?!!? Oh god oh god oh god, no no no no no no. Wait… but then that means… OMG. HOLY SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. WTF.” So yeah, good job Ashley, I actually yelled out loud at my computer screen after finishing your play.
 
And that was just the script. I can’t even imagine how I’d react to the actual performance, with actors Kelsey Jefferson Barrett, Kitty Mortland, Sam Lopresti, Aliyah Hakim, and Samantha Elizabeth Turlington, and directed by Ariel Mahler. So if you’d enjoy a creepy mindfuck of a play about trans people, by trans people, check out Oddity at the Brick theater (579 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn NY) on the following dates:
 
Thursday, July 20 @ 9:20pm
Saturday, July 22 @ 2pm
Monday, July 24 @ 9pm
 
Tickets are only $20.00 and you can purchase them here:
Bleeding Earth by Kaitlin Ward

Bleeding Earth by Kaitlin Ward

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Adaptive Studios

Genre: Blood & Guts, Apocalypse/Disaster, Psychological Horror, Romance

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Lesbian characters, Hispanic/Latine character

Takes Place in: New Hampshire, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Mental Illness, Racism, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Between Mother Nature and human nature, disasters are inevitable. 

Lea was in a cemetery when the earth started bleeding. Within twenty-four hours, the blood made international news. All over the world, blood oozed out of the ground, even through the concrete, even in the water. Then the earth started growing hair and bones.
Lea wishes she could ignore the blood. She wishes she could spend time with her new girlfriend, Aracely, in public, if only Aracely wasn’t so afraid of her father. Lea wants to be a regular teen again, but the blood has made her a prisoner in her own home. Fear for her social life turns into fear for her sanity, and Lea must save herself and her girlfriend however she can.

Happy Pride month! Here’s something fun for queer horror fans, after Netflix accidently featured the Australian indie horror film, The Babadook, on their LGBT movie page, the titular creature has quickly become a Pride meme and it’s wonderful. If you haven’t seen the film, it’s awesome, go watch it.

A tall, dark, creepy creature with long fingers and a white face is wearing a top hat with a rainbow button, rainbow suspenders, a purple feather boa, sparkly pink flamingo glasses, and a belly shirt that says “Get Ready to be Babashook.”

Artwork by Muffin Pines at http://muffinpines.tumblr.com/

For June I’ll be reviewing two horror stories with queer characters, the first of which is Bleeding Earth. And oh man, did this book mess me up good. I was expecting a gory, end of the world sort of book, and instead I got a heartbreaking survival story about love, family, and humanity (yes I know how cheesy that sounds, shut up). It gave me so much anxiety, and so many emotions, and I’m still trying to process what the hell I just read. But I know it was good. It was really freaking good. And there was so much blood. Blood, and bones, and hair. I love blood. And bones. Not wads of hair though, I have my limits.

In the first caption I’m wearing a light pink dress and covered in blood. I’m clearly enjoying the blood dripping through my hair and down my shoulders because I’m smearing it on my ecstatic face while sighing “Mmmmmm, So much blood.” In the next panel I’m screaming “OH GROSS, HAIR!”  in disgust and pulling away from a wad of bloody hair I’ve just noticed.

I was going for a “Carrie at the Prom” kind of look.

Lea, the novel’s protagonist and narrator, is enjoying the blossoming relationship she shares with her girlfriend, Aracely, when the blood first appears. Now, normally teen romances in dystopias and apocalyptic fiction seems tacked on and out of place. I mean, who worries about crushes when their life is on the line? But in Bleeding Earth, it works beautifully. Surrounded by chaos and despair, Lea wants to hold onto one of the few good things she has left to keep her going, because no one knows how long they have left. The girls are still in their honeymoon phase, so everything still feels wonderful and new, a sharp contrast to the reality around them. When Lea starts experiencing night terrors and hallucinations from stress and isolation, talking to her girlfriend on the phone is the only thing that helps her. And when she wants to give up, it’s Aracely that keeps her going. And I just can’t bring myself to begrudge her that one little bit of happiness. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who makes you feel safe and lets you forget your problems for a while? It gave my cold, little heart all the feels.The scariest thing about Bleeding Earth isn’t the blood, hair, and bones seeping up from the ground. It’s the feeling of isolation, uncertainty, and powerlessness. At least with zombies, aliens, and diseases there’s always something you can do, a safe zone to flee to, a cure, an end in sight. But with the blood there’s nowhere to escape, no way to fight back, and no stopping the blood. No one knows what’s causing it, or if it will ever end. There are no answers or explanations to soothe the scared populace. And while I normally hate it when a story doesn’t give me an explanation, here it actually works. It’s so much more frightening when you don’t know what’s happening, and there’s literally nothing you can do about it. Will things get better? Is this the end of the world? Did humanity piss off the earth so much it’s finally rejecting them? Even at the start of the bleeding, when everyone is still doing their best to “keep calm and carry on,” fear is already causing people to take desperate actions. Lea’s mom obsessively measures their water and screams at her friends when they drink some, her father nails boards over all the windows so they’re in complete darkness, a man attacks Aracely with a bone over a breathing mask, and some jerks at an Apocalypse party try to get an inebriated girl to drink the blood. It starts with fights over tampons in the grocery store, then looting Home Depot, to violence and riots, and it only gets worse from there. Much, MUCH worse.Now, I know poor decision making seems to be a staple of Y/A fiction (one that annoys me to no end), but here, it makes sense. Everyone is absolutely terrified, struggling with isolation and the horror of what’s happening around them, while still trying their damnedest to pretend like everything is going to be fine. And scared, stressed people do not behave in a rational manner. At various points the teenagers in the story become so desperate for normalcy and human contact they’re willing to brave the blood and all its dangers just to be together. Is this a good idea? No, absolutely not. But is it understandable? Completely. Humans are social creatures, so much so that isolation can actually be deadly. And here’s the original research to back it up. I’m an introvert who prefers a quiet night at home, and even I felt stressed and nauseous when poor Lea described being trapped in her boarded up home for weeks on end, with little to no outside communication. Honestly, if I had to go through a bloodpocalypse, I probably would’ve snapped after a few hours indoors and gone blood hydroplaning (hemiaplaning?) in a stolen car while throwing human skulls at pedestrians. And that’s speaking as someone who willingly goes for days without human contact, I can’t imagine what a non-homebody extrovert would go through. So kudos to Lea for keeping it together as long as she did! If you’re probably going to die anyway, it’s better to die among friends and go out with a bang.

A close up of me driving a car through blood while leaning out the window. I’m holding a human skull out the window while waves of blood are being splashed up by the car. I’m dressed like one of the War Boys from Mad Max: Fury Road, with corpse pain covering my face. I gleefully shout “Oh what a day… What a lovely day!”

I showed this drawing to my wife, and now I’m not allowed to drive her car.

While I really enjoyed Bleeding Earth, it did have some problems that got to me, and kept me from giving it the full five stars. Like Lea’s dad. He learns that the mom has become unhinged, and Lea fears for their safety, but instead of going to help his wife and child, he tells his frightened daughter to get her unstable mom, slip through the looters and people willing to kill for water, and come to him. So of course a ton of horrible things happen because Lea can’t get her sick mother to leave the house, and her dad is apparently too lazy to drive the 40 minutes to help her. Like, I get they need everyone they can get to keep the power going, but for fuck’s sake man, you can take an hour to go rescue your wife and daughter. He’s just so frustratingly blasé about the whole thing. And then there were a bunch of weird little plot points that didn’t go anywhere. Like Lea’s hallucinations. Ingesting the blood is discovered to cause hallucinations, night terrors, lost time, and mental breaks. Lea starts to have horrible nightmares, imagining blood in the house, but it’s unclear if it’s an effect from the blood or the isolation. While she does spend part of the book questioning her sanity, and it’s definitely stressful and unsettling, it doesn’t really go anywhere. Was she infected by the blood? Yeah, we never get an answer for that one either.

A frightened teen is on the phone with her dad. “Hey, dad? Looters keep trying to get in the house, I haven’t seen the sun in over a week, and I think mom’s gone off the deep end and she’s possibly planning to kill someone. Could you come get us?” Her dad is seen doing Sudoku in his office and tells her “That’s nice honey, but I’m just swamped at work right now, can I call you back later? Tell your mom I said “Hi”. “Dad are you even listening!? Screw your work and get your ass back here!”

Hey, Sudoku IS work!

The lack of explanations will be a major turn off for a lot of readers, and I can understand that. But honestly, I didn’t feel like it was needed, because that really isn’t the point of the story. This isn’t a sci-fi novel with an omniscient narrator about a world-wide disaster. This is Lea’s story. It’s about her fears, her loneliness, her confusion, and her crush on Aracely. She’s terrified and frustrated because she doesn’t know what will happen, her parents can’t reassure her, and she just wants to be able to take comfort in something. It’s a sweet, sad story of survival, isolation, and just trying to enjoy a simple teen crush in a world that’s gone to hell.

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Transmuted by Eve Harms

Transmuted by Eve Harms

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Unerving

Genre: Body Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans main character and side character, queer main characters, Japanese-American side character

Takes Place in: Los Angeles, California, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Body Shaming, Forced Captivity, Gore, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Transphobia

Blurb

Her doctor is giving her the body of his dreams… and her nightmares. Isa is a micro-celebrity who rarely shows her face, and can’t wait to have it expertly ripped off and rearranged to look more feminine. When a successful fundraiser makes her gender affirming surgery possible, she’s overjoyed—until she has to give up all her money to save her dying father.

Crushed by gender dysphoria and the pressure of disappointing her fans who paid for a new face, she answers a sketchy ad seeking transgender women for a free, experimental feminization treatment. The grotesquely flawless Dr. Skurm has gruesome methods, but he gets unbelievable results, and Isa is finally feeling comfortable in her skin. She even gains the courage to ask out her crush: an alluring and disfigured alchemy-obsessed artist named Rayna.

But Isa’s body won’t stop changing, and she’s going from super model to super mutant. She has to discover the secret behind her metamorphosis—before the changes are irreversible, and she’s an unwanted freak forever.

Transmuted is an outrageous and unapologetically queer body horror tale that will leave you gasping, giggling, and gagging for more.

Harm excels at taking the everyday horror of living trapped in a body you don’t recognize as your own, dials it up to a hundred, then soaks it in blood, sex, and mad science.

Isa is a trans woman who struggles both with her weight and gender dysphoria. Her hormone replacement therapy (HRT) helps, but what she’d really love is to get facial feminization surgery (FFS) and it appears that her wish will soon become a reality. By raising money through her Twitch channel and charity streams, Isa has finally saved up enough to have the procedure. Everything is looking up. That is until her sister calls and all but demands the money for their shitty dad’s cancer treatment. Frankly I think the cancer is Karma for constantly misgendering his daughter and being all-around shitty to her, but despite my yelling at the pages to “not give that bastard a cent” Isa didn’t take my advice and caves under the guilt and familial pressure. Now that all the money everyone helped her raise is gone, Isa is just distraught and desperate enough to respond to a sketchy internet ad promising free and miraculous feminization treatments for trans women. As you can probably guess, this is not the wisest of decisions. as most things that sound too good to be true usually are. What follows is a bizarre and twisted journey of body horror and alchemy as Isa’s body transforms in ways she never expected.

If you’re someone who’s bugged by discussions of gender dysphoria and find the concept of passing problematic, you probably won’t enjoy this book. This is not a body positive story where the protagonist discovers her true beauty and learns to love herself. This is a book that explores what it’s like to feel disconnected from your body, like it’s some alien thing instead of part of you, and takes it to its extreme. Which honestly? I’m fine with. Body positivity is fucking hard guys. I totally support it and I’m happy for people who have learned to love their body and how they look, but for me that goal feels unattainable and it’s just too much pressure. I’m more a fan of body neutrality, which means you don’t have to love, or even like your appearance to feel good about yourself and appreciate what your body can do. We don’t live in a bubble and there’s constant pressure to appear thin, White, and cis to be considered attractive and accepted by society. Even if you understand intellectually that it’s transphobic to expect trans women to appear feminine and pass as cis and that beauty standards for women are inherently racist, sexist, and fatphobic it still wears on your self-esteem. I appreciate how Transmuted doesn’t pull any punches when examining gender dysphoria. Isa’s hatred of her appearance is painfully familiar and honest, as is her desperation to “fix” her face so she can stand to look in the mirror. It also reminds me of how one trans person, Luna, described her feelings of dysphoria “Gender dysphoria is something that is painful. It hurts. It’s… looking in the mirror and thinking, “Holy heck. Who is that person? Who am I looking at? Is that- Is that someone that’s come into my house?” And then realizing, no, that’s just- that’s just me in the mirror.”

It’s impossible to “think positive” all the time and that’s okay. Negative emotions and feelings are valid.

Despite how horribly wrong things go for Isa, this is not a warning about seeking gender affirming surgery or a lesson about being happy with what you have. It’s a horror story about unethical medical practitioners who prey on trans people, like surgeons who completely botch the surgery on their trans patients (trigger warning, graphic description of medical procedures at link), and illicit online pharmacies. Note that very few trans people regret getting gender confirmation surgery —only around 2%, compared to the 65% of people who regret getting cosmetic surgery — and most surgeries in the US are preformed by skilled surgeons who specialize in trans medicine. But there aren’t many of them, and the waiting list for their services can often be up to two hundred patients at a time. It’s incredibly difficult for trans people to access healthcare. According to LGBTQ taskforce nearly one-in-five trans people reported being denied needed health care outright because of their gender identity, 28% of trans and gender non-conforming people avoid seeking healthcare due to discrimination, and over 50% had to teach their providers about trans care. On top of the difficulty of trying to access healthcare, many trans people can’t afford it: 20% of trans people are uninsured and they’re nearly twice as likely to be living in poverty than the rest of the population. 

ALCHEMY – TREE OF THE MOON – HERMAPHRODITE Engraving from Johann Daniel Mylius, Philosophia Reformata, 1622. The presence of the Tree of the Moon, or the Arbor Argentum, along with the fact that the hermaphrodite stands on a crescent Moon, indicates that this stage is the alchemical process marking the perfection of the First Silver. The hermaphroditic merging of the King and Queen indicates that the process is not yet complete, as integration has not taken place. 

Isa’s situation is exaggerated for the purpose of making the story more horrifying, but her struggle to find healthcare isn’t. Both Isa and her best friend are part of the 10% of trans people forced to turn to the grey market for their HRT, so it’s clear that accessing trans-friendly healthcare is already a challenge for them. This is the scariest part of Transmuted to me, not the mad doctor and his twisted experiments or the bizarre mutations Isa goes through, but the knowledge that the remedy to her mental anguish is so simple, yet impossible to obtain like Tantalus reaching for the fruit tree in Tartarus, and the horror of knowing thousands of real trans people are in her situation every day.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Weirdpunk Books

Genre: Body Horror, Psychological Horror, Romance

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay author, lesbian main characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Death, Mental Illness, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

Sadomasochism. Obsession. Death.

A whirlpool of darkness churns at the heart of a macabre ballet between two lonely young women in an internet chat room in the early 2000s—a darkness that threatens to forever transform them once they finally succumb to their most horrific desires.

What have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Holy shit…this book. Definitely shouldn’t have read it at 1 am.

This epistolary novella starts out innocently enough. It’s the early 2000s and a young woman named Agnes is selling her antique apple peeler on a LGBTQ+ message board. Another young woman, Zoe, offers to buy the apple peeler. The two email back and forth and start up a friendship. Agnes is having a really tough time and Zoe does something incredibly kind and generous to help her out. Awwww. It also turns out both women are gay and developing feelings for each other. Sounds like a sappy Hallmark Christmas movie doesn’t it (if Hallmark ever aired anything that wasn’t incredibly heteronormative)? Except then things start getting kind of weird (so more like a Lifetime Christmas movie). Agnes, who’s life honestly kind of sucks, is beholden of her “guardian angel” and a little too willing to please her. Zoe wants to push Agnes out of her comfort zone and asks her “What have you done today to deserve your eyes?” Super creepy, although nothing necessarily sinister yet. Still, relationship red flags are starting to pop up. As the two grow ever closer, Zoe suggests they enter a BDSM/sugar mama relationship which Agnes immediately agrees to. Zoe will email tasks which Agnes must complete to please her “sponsor” (Kudos to LaRocca for using sponsor/drudge instead of master/slave which can have racist connotations). Things start going downhill rapidly as both women prove how emotionally unstable they really are.

Twitter User @daveaddey noticed something interesting about Hallmark Christmas movie posters. Namely that they all look like they’ll eat your soul.

BDSM is not inherently harmful. Even when it’s meant to cause pain and discomfort, it shouldn’t result in any permanent physical, emotional, or mental harm; every act should be consensual, not coerced and when I say consensual, I mean enthusiastic consent, not the lack of a “no” or safeword. But like with all things, there are people who take it too far. Doms are supposed to prioritize the safety and well-being of their submissive, but Zoe is more interested in seeing how far she can push her new toy before it breaks. She doesn’t listen when Agnes tells her she’s uncomfortable and ignores the fact that a desperately lonely Agnes in not in the right headspace to make informed decisions. Zoe even makes her perform acts that threaten Agnes’ ability to function in everyday life and takes control of her finances (which is a big red flag). That’s when things start to get really disturbing. Yes, it gets even worse. I won’t reveal any spoilers, suffice it to say this book is not for the squeamish or anyone triggered by depictions of psychologically abusive relationships.

Aftercare is important.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke is one of the most uncomfortable and disturbing books I’ve read all year. I spent the final third of the novella squirming and distressed, muttering “Oh no, oh no, oh no” to myself. Watching an abusive relationship develop as a lonely young woman’s mental health declines is incredibly upsetting. The warning signs in the relationship are subtle and easily missed if you don’t know what to look for, at least until it’s too late.  And the body horror pairs perfectly with the psychological horror, making the story even more unsettling. This novella may only take an hour to read, but the dread will stay with you for days. So, what have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Anoka by Shane Hawk

Anoka by Shane Hawk

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Self-Published

Genre: Body Horror, Folk Horror, Monster, Myth and Folklore, Occult, Werewolf

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Biracial Cheyenne author, Dakota characters, non-binary character

Takes Place in: Anoka, Minnesota, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Cannibalism, Child Death, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Gore, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Welcome to Anoka, Minnesota, a small city just outside of the Twin Cities dubbed “The Halloween Capital of the World” since 1937. Here before you lie several tales involving bone collectors, pagan witches, werewolves, skeletal bison, and cloned children. It is up to you to decipher between fact and fiction as the author has woven historical facts into his narratives. With his debut horror collection, Cheyenne & Arapaho author Shane Hawk explores themes of family, grief, loneliness, and identity through the lens of indigenous life.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Apparently Anoka, Minnesota is the “Halloween Capital of the World” because they’ve been having giant Halloween parades since 1920. Out of civic pride, I want to argue that Salem is the Halloween Capital and our town is better because we have real witches and Salem Horror Fest and the oldest candy company in America. On the other hand, I would also like tourists to stop blocking the traffic, drunkenly climbing on the witch statue, and crowding my favorite restaurants every October (that’s my job), so maybe it would be better if they all headed to Anoka instead. I don’t think anyone will want to go anywhere near the Minnesota city after reading Shane Hawk’s Indigenous horror anthology of the same name, though. The stories in Anoka are loosely tied together by their location in an alternative version of the town where dark magic and monsters lurk. An evil tome known simply as “the book” and strange green swirls also make multiple appearances throughout the anthology.

A comic of a person hanging off a statue of a witch saying

Hawk gives a different and unique voice to each of his characters so every story feels different from the others. His writing reminded me of a talented artist who can draw in multiple styles and shift easily from realism to the simple lines of a cartoon. My favorite thing about his book is how so many of the stories felt like pre-comics code horror anthology comics like Eerie, Black Cat, and The Haunt of Fear or modern-day creepypastas with terrifying twists. Some stories were fun and weird, others tragic reflections of human nature. But all of them were creepy, the kind of creepy that makes you aware of how many noises an old house makes at night or has you shouting out loud at the characters not to go into the room where the monster is waiting.

American Indians tragically have the highest infant mortality rate in the U.S. (again due to trauma, poverty and a lack of adequate healthcare), so much of Hawk’s anthology touches on themes of child death and the trauma that goes with such a great loss. In two stories, Orange and Wounded, the death of a child in the past moves the main characters to do something terrible. Soilborne is a metaphor for the loss of the child-parent connection and how devastating that can be. In Imitate, the protagonist has to rush to save his son, Tate, from an unknown horror that’s taken his form. There’s no way of knowing if Tate is even still alive, and the whole story is exceedingly stressful to read. Honestly, Imitate would have worked just fine as microfiction and Hawk could have easily ended it after the first page or so. But instead, he decides to pile on even more terror by turning it into a suspenseful short story where we’re forced to watch a father slowly lose his mind. It’s definitely one of the anthology’s stronger and spookier tales.

My absolute favorite story in the collection is Dead America about a writer named Chaska whose family is followed by death. This is sadly not uncommon for Native families as generational trauma, poverty, and a lack of adequate healthcare has lead to poor health and high death rates from heart disease, diabetes, and suicide. The story gets its name from Chaska’s hobo nickel which depicts the skull of a dead Indian chief in full headdress on one side and Columbus’ three ships on the other. “When betting a coin offers someone a fifty-fifty chance of winning and losing. The nickel was a metaphor for the predicament of Indian existence: fucked no matter which side the coin landed on” the author explains. He’s about to find out how right he is when Asibikaashi the Spider Woman decides to make the Dakota author suffer for his sins.

This story is SCARY. All of my notes for Dead America consist of “nope, nope, nopeity-nope nope, fuck this, nope.” I’m not someone who’s usually bothered by spiders under normal circumstances. I think they’re kind of cute and I love that they eat any bugs that get into the house, but Chaska’s punishment left me terrified of arachnids. If you have any form of arachnophobia, I can guarantee you’ll be in for some nasty nightmares and might want to skip this story entirely. But if you’re feeling brave, it’s one of the strongest stories in the collection and worth checking out. The story also touches on themes of profiting off the personal stories of others, very similar to how Ward ChurchillAsa Earl Carter, Mary Summer Rain and others pretended to be Native for fame and money.

It’s important to note that in Ojibwe stories Asibikaashi, aka Grandmother Spider, is a benevolent deity and helper of humanity whose spiderweb charms, popularly known as “Dream Catchers“, were woven by women as a form of protection for infants. I couldn’t find any references to her punishing the wicked (of course I couldn’t find many references to her at all that weren’t written by White new agers).

Hawk’s final story, Transformation, is about a non-binary werewolf who hunts for her community and runs into trouble at Anoka’s annual Halloween parade. Having a trans werewolf feels perfect because werewolves are the ideal metaphor for someone with a fluid identity. Sometimes you’re a wolf, others a human, and occasionally you’re something in between, but you’re always a werewolf regardless of what form you take that day. Just because I’m femme one day, it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m non-binary; I’m still an enby when I’m feeling more trans-masculine. Like the story title, werewolves can also represent transition. The wolf can be seen as the true self, hidden under a dull human skin that’s forced to conform to society’s rigid standards. Becoming the wolves gives you the opportunity to experience freedom. If that transformation is unwanted, it can be compared to a menstrual cycle that causes dysphoria each month or unwanted body hair. “Jenny” a transwoman who identifies with werewolves is quoted on the queer horror blog, Gender Terror“The titanic proportion of my body and the hair that I continually fight back terrify me, and makes me the target of many suspicious onlookers. And just like werewolves, I have no control over what my body does. Feeling like a prisoner to how your body changes is a special torment I think a lot of transgender people share with werewolves.” So is it any wonder writers like Hal SchrieveAllison MoonSuzanne Walker,  Ashlynn Barker, and numerous self-published erotic authors like Noah Harris have all explored the idea of a trans werewolf? Heck “were-woman” is slang for someone who “transforms” into a woman at night (though this terminology can be problematic). Hawk’s non-binary werewolf character seemed so cool I was disappointed that their story wasn’t longer. There was so much going on in Transformation it felt like it would’ve worked much better as a novella rather than a short story. Honestly, I’d read a full novel about the nostalgic werewolf, Halloween parades, and Wendigo. That’s my one major complaint about Anoka: it’s too short! The concept was so cool I was disappointed we didn’t get to explore more of Hawk’s alternate universe. I wanted to learn more about The Book and the creepy town filled with dark magic and monsters.

A comic-style illustration of a werewolf wearing underwear made from the trans flag colors.

What impressed me the most about the story collection is how Hawk was able to handle the subjects of child losssexual assaultsubstance abuse and missing and murdered Indigenous women, especially in his story Wounded, in a way that felt respectful rather than exploitative. Anoka is a fun, frightening ride that draws attention to many of the issues plaguing American Indians today, and I hope we’ll get to hear even more stories from the spooky little town in Hawk’s future books.

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dancing Cat Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: American/Indian and Indigenous characters (Mostly Métis, Anishinaabe, and Cree), Black/Indo-Caribbean/Biracial character, gay male characters

Takes Place in: Toronto, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

In a futuristic world ravaged by global warming, people have lost the ability to dream, and the dreamlessness has led to widespread madness. The only people still able to dream are North America’s Indigenous people, and it is their marrow that holds the cure for the rest of the world. But getting the marrow, and dreams, means death for the unwilling donors. Driven to flight, a fifteen-year-old and his companions struggle for survival, attempt to reunite with loved ones and take refuge from the “recruiters” who seek them out to bring them to the marrow-stealing “factories.”

***CONTENT WARNING: In this review I will be discussing Indigenous American (Canadian, Mexican, and the US) history and residential schools/Indian boarding schools, with a primary focus on Canada where the Marrow Thieves takes place. I will be touching on genocide, forced assimilation, abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and addiction. There will also be images of verbal abuse and the effects of trauma. Please proceed with caution and take breaks if you need to. For my Indigenous readers: if you feel at all distressed or disturbed while reading this, or just need support in general, there are resources for the US and Canada here and here respectively. If you need extra help you can also find Indigenous-friendly therapists here and here to talk to. If you are a abuse survivor, are being abused, or know someone who is, please go here. There are further links at the end of the review. Please reach out if you need to!***

I have tried to use mainly Indigenous created articles, websites, books, films, and interviews for reference when writing this review. I have also included multiple quotes from residential school survivors, as I felt I could not do justice to their vastly different experiences without using their own words. However, I can only cover a fraction of a long and complex history. I strongly encourage everyone to check out the books, videos, and podcasts I have listed at the end of the review. Kú’daa Dr. Debbie Reese for providing such an excellent list of suggestions for residential school resources! They were a huge help in this review. And speaking or Dr. Reese, check out her review of The Marrow Thieves as well as Johnnie Jae’s Native book list. And another big thank you to Tiff Morris for being my sensitivity reader for this review. Your help and advice was invaluable! Wela’lin!

When I first read The Marrow Thieves years ago it didn’t impact me the way it does now. Back in 2017 a worldwide pandemic still existed solely in the realm of science fiction. Much like a giant asteroid destroying the earth, it was technically possible but so unlikely that such a scenario wasn’t worth worrying about. Re-reading the dystopian horror novel in 2020 was a completely different and utterly terrifying experience. Even knowing how the story would end was not enough to quell my anxiety and I felt on edge the entire time. The fact that Cherie Dimaline’s used real world atrocities committed against Indigenous people just makes the story feel even more plausible and horrifying. Water rightsviolence against Indigenous womencultural appropriationclimate change, cultural erasure, and the trauma caused by residential schools are all referenced.

The book opens with the protagonist Frenchie, a young Métis boy, watching helplessly as his Brother Mitch is beaten and kidnapped by Recruiters, a group of government thugs tasked with capturing Indigenous people for the purpose of extracting their bone marrow. Now alone, and with no idea how to survive on his own Frenchie has to be rescued from starvation by a small band of Indigenous (mostly Anishinaabe and Métis) travelers. The group welcomes the young boy as one of their own, and he soon comes to see them as an adoptive family as the ragtag bunch works together to survive and protect each other.

Miig is the patriarch of the group, an older gay gentleman who likes to speak in metaphor and teaches the older kids Indigenous history through storytelling. He also trains Frenchie and the others to hunt, travel undetected, and generally survive in their harsh new reality. Miig might seem cold at first but he genuinely loves the kids, he just prefers to show it through actions rather than words. Dimaline did an excellent job writing Miig and he felt like a real person rather that a lazy gay stereotype. I absolutely adore his character. He’s got the whole “gruff but kind dad” thing going. Minerva is another one of my favorites, a cool and cheerful Elder who acts as the heart of the group and teaches the girls Anishinaabemowin, as most of the kids have lost their original languages. She keeps all of them to the past. Minerva also raised the youngest member of the group, Riri, a curious and spunky 7-year-old who ends up bonding with Frenchie. Riri was only a baby when she was rescued and has no memory of a time before they were forced into a nomadic lifestyle in order to avoid the Recruiters so, unlike the others, she has nothing to miss. Cheerful and lively Riri never fails to raise everyone’s spirits or give them hope for a better future.

The rest of the kids range from nine to young adulthood. Wab is the eldest girl, beautiful and fierce and “as the woman of the group she was in charge of the important things.” Then there’s Chi-boy, a Cree teenager who rarely speaks. The youngest are the twins Tree and Zheegwan, followed by Slopper, a greedy 9-year-old from the east coast who likes to complain and brings his adoptive family the levity they all need. Later on they’re joined by Rose, a biracial Black/White River First Nation teen who Frenchie immediately develops a crush on. And I can’t really blame him because Rose is a total bad ass. All of them have lost people to the residential schools and some, like the twins, were even victims of “marrow thieves” themselves. But they all support each other and survive despite the difficulties they’ve faced.

No one knows what caused the dreamless disease rapidly infecting the country, an illness that causes the victim to stop dreaming and slowly descend into madness, only that Indigenous people are immune. And yes, I do appreciate the irony of a plague that only affects Colonizers. Perhaps it’s divine retribution for Jeffery Amherst’s (yes that Amherstgerm warfare. When their immunity is discovered people begin to flock to Native nations begging for help. But Indigenous people are understandably reluctant, having been burned too many times before. They don’t want to share their sacred ceremonies and traditions with outsiders, and for very good reason. Non-Natives quickly get tired of asking and do what they do best: take what they want, in this case Indigenous practices and later Indigenous bodies. The few survivors who do manage to escape the new residential schools often return with parts of themselves missing, an apt metaphor for real residential schools. Although set in a fictional future The Marrow Thieves dives into a past that Colonialism has actively tried to suppress.

Indigenous history is rarely taught in either US or Canadian schools (outside of elective courses) and what is taught is often grossly inaccurate. To quote Dr. Debbie Reese’s post about representation in the best-selling paperbacks of all time: “23,999,617 readers (children, presumably) have read about savage, primitive, heroic, stealthy, lazy, tragic, chiefs, braves, squaws, and papooses.” In America we’re taught that the Wampanoag (who are never mentioned by name) showed up to save their pilgrims friends from starvation and celebrate the first Thanksgiving, with no mention of the English massacre of the Pequot, Natives being sold into slavery, or the Colonists’ grave robbing. After 1621, mentions of American Indians are scarce to non-existent. There might be a brief paragraph here and there in a high school textbook about the Iroquois Nation siding with the British in the Revolutionary War, or the Trail of Tears.

2015 study of US history classes, grades K-12, showed that over 86% of schools didn’t teach modern (post-1900) Indigenous history and American Indians were largely portrayed “as barriers to America progress. As a result, students might think that Indigenous People are gone for one reason—they were against the creation of the United States.” Few students are ever told about the mass genocide of American Indians, smallpox blankets, the government’s unlawful seizure of Native land, the many broken treaties, destruction of culture, and forced experimentation. American Indian writer and activist Suzan Shown Harjo points out in an interview “When you move a people from one place to another, when you displace people, when you wrench people from their homelands, wasn’t that genocide? We don’t make the case that there was genocide. We know there was, yet here we are.” You would think that American history would dedicate more than a paragraph to THE PEOPLE WHO FUCKING LIVED IN AMERICA. I’m not that familiar with the Canadian education system, but according to Métis writer and legal scholar Chelsea Vowel they’re not much better at teaching the history of First Nation, Inuit, and Métis people. The omission of Indigenous Americans and Canadians from history lessons is just another form of erasure that contributes to the continued systemic oppression of First Peoples by a racist and colonialist system.

A White teacher stands in front of her class and is pointing to racist, stereotypical cartoon images of Pilgrims and Indians. The teacher says “The Indians helped the pilgrims and they became best friends! Then the Indians all voluntarily left so we could found America. Too bad there aren’t any Indians anymore!” The only non-White child in the class, a Native girl raises her hand and say “Um, actually the Wampanoag and lots of other American Indian tribes are still around even though the colonizers tried to get rid of us and stole our land. I’m Seneca and my family and I are still here.” The cheerful teacher says “I said…” then she turns menacing “…The Indians and Pilgrims were FRIENDS and they left voluntarily. So stop making things up. Now it’s time to make construction paper Indian head dresses kids!”

The sad thing is, the “Pilgrim and Indian” drawings are based on actual, present day “lessons” from teaching websites. This comic is loosely based on my experience as the only Black kid in class when we learned about the Civil War. The Seneca girl is wearing a “Every Child Matters” orange shirt for Residential Schools survivors.

White supremacist Andrew Jackson believed American Indians had “neither the intelligence, the industry, the moral habits, not the desire of improvement” and used this to justify the numerous acts of Cultural Genocide he committed. One of the worst was the Indian Removal Act, which forced the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole to choose between assimilation or leaving their homelands. Justin Giles, assistant director of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation Museum, describes it as, “You can have one of two things: you can keep your sovereignty, but you can’t keep your land. If you keep your land you have to assimilate and no longer be Indian… you can’t have both.” While reading The Marrow Thieves, I was struck by how much the world Dimaline created felt like a futuristic Nazi Germany. It makes sense considering “American Indian law played a role in the Nazi formulation of Jewish policies and laws” according to professor of law Robert J. Miller. Good job America, you helped create the Holocaust. I’m sure Andrew Jackson would be proud.

But people tend to object to mass murder and breaking treaties, even in the 1830’s. Jackson’s Indian Removal Act was controversial and drew a great deal of criticism, most notably from Davy Crockett and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Christian missionary and activist Jeremiah Evarts wrote a series of famous essays against the Removal Act that accused Jackson of lacking in morality. So even back then folks hated the 7th president for being a lying, racist piece of shit. Of course that didn’t necessarily mean they were accepting of the people they saw as “savages.” A line from They Called it Prairie Light sums it up best: “Europeans were at first skeptical of the humanity of the inhabitants of the American continents, but most were soon persuaded that these so-called Indians had souls worthy of redemption.”  So how could they “kill” Indians without actually killing them and looking like the bad guys? Richard Henry Pratt came up with the solution. Changing everything about Indigenous people to make them as close to Whiteness as possible.

“A great general has said that the only good Indian is a dead one. In a sense, I agree with the sentiment but only in this: that all the Indian there is in the race should be dead. Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” – Richard Henry Pratt

Pratt was a former Brigadier General who had fought in the Union during the Civil War. He spoke out against racial segregation, lead an all Black regiment known as the “Buffalo Soldiers” in 1867 (yes, the ones from the Bob Marley song), and unlike Jackson, actually viewed the American Indians as people. Unfortunately, like most “White Saviors,” Pratt was ignorant, misguided and believed Euro-Americans were superior. “Federal commitment to boarding schools and their ‘appropriate’ education for Native Americans sprouted from the enduring rootstock of European misperceptions of America’s natives.” (Tsianina Lomawaima). And so Pratt decided the best way to help American Indians was to remove children from their homes to teach them “the value of hard work” and the superiority of Euro-American culture. Pratt had already practiced turning Cheyenne prisoners of war at Fort Marion into “good Indians” and he was convinced an Indian school would be equally successful. So in 1879 he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the first Indian boarding school in the US.

“Soon, they needed too many bodies, and they turned to history to show them how to best keep us warehoused, how to best position the culling. That’s when the new residential schools started growing up from the dirt like poisonous brick mushrooms. We go to the schools and they leach the dreams from where our ancestors hid them, in the honeycombs of slushy marrow buried in our bones. And us? Well, we join our ancestors, hoping we left enough dreams behind for the next generation to stumble across.”

Miig telling the kids how the bone marrow harvesting started.

“Civilizing” American Indian children by separating them from their cultural roots and teaching them Eurocentric values was not a new idea: The Catholic church had already been doing it for years. But it was Pratt who made it widespread. At the school, students were forced to cut their long hair, adopt White names and clothing, speak only in English, and convert to Christianity. Failure to comply would be met with corporal punishment from Pratt, who ran the school like an army barrack. Understandably, Indigenous people —   who had no reason to trust a nation of treaty breakers —    were initially reluctant to send their children away from their families to go to school. But Pratt convinced Lakota chief Siŋté Glešká aka Spotted Tail (one of three chiefs who had travelled to Washington to try and convince President Grant to honor the treaties the US had made) that an English education was essential to survival in an increasingly Euro-centric America. He argued that if Spotted Tail and his people were able to read the treaties they signed, they never would’ve been forced from their land. He would teach the students so they could return home and in turn help their people. Reluctantly the chief agreed to send the children Dakota Rosebud reservation, including his own sons, to Carlise. Ten years later Pratt’s “save the Indian” goal became a National policy and Natives no longer had a choice in the matter.

“As girls, Martha and young Frances found the atmosphere of the school alien, unfriendly, and oppressive. Both had been raised by nurturing parents of the leadership class, and neither had been abused as a child. They had learned the traditions and laws of their tribes, but the church had not had a strong presence on the San Manuel Reservation. When the girls entered the St. Boniface school, their parents had agreed to their enrollment so that they could cope better with an ever-changing society dominated by non-Indians. Furthermore, their parents expected them to be future leaders of the tribe and felt that training at an off-reservation boarding school would better prepare them for tribal responsibilities.” (Trafzer)

Canada was also pushing for assimilation and, using Pratt’s Residential School model, began to develop their own “off-reserve” schools. In 1920 Duncan Campbell Scott, the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Canada from 1913 to 1932, passed the Indian Act. The bill made school attendance mandatory for all Indigenous children under the age of 15. Anyone who refused could be arrested and their children taken away by truant officers, the basis for Dimaline’s Recruiters. Residential school survivor Howard Stacy Jones describes how she was snatched by Mounted Police from her public school in Port Renfrew British Columbia and brought to a residential school: “I was kidnapped when I was around six years old, and this happened right in the schoolyard. My auntie and another witnessed this… saw me fighting, trying to get away from the two RCMP officers that threw me in the back seat of the car and drove away with me. My mom didn’t know where I was for three days.”

Scott famously said “I want to get rid of the Indian problem. . . Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no Indian Department, that is the whole object of this Bill.” Schools in the US and Canada did have some dissimilarities. While the U.S. moved away from mission schools in favor of government run ones, most Canadian residential schools continue to be run by Christian missionaries and supported by several churches. As a result, federal control was weaker in Canada and the goal of converting Indigenous people to Catholicism and Protestantism remained at the forefront. Interestingly, during my research I found that Indigenous people reported a wide variety of experiences in US residential schools ranging from positive to negative, whereas the stories about Canadian ones were overwhelmingly negative.  It’s possible that the Canadian residential schools were somehow worse than US ones, possibly due to the strong influence of the state and little government regulation, but I don’t want to draw conclusions on a topic I simply don’t know enough about. Besides it’s not my place to compare the experiences of survivors like that.

Still, I was genuinely surprised to find so many positive memories reported by former US residential school students who felt they benefited from their time there. While conducting interviews for They Called it Prairie Light Tsianina Lomawaima revealed that former Chilocco students had nothing but good things to say about L. E. Correll, the school’s superintendent from 1926 to 1952. “The participants in this research concurred unanimously in their positive assessment of Correll’s leadership, a testimonial to his commitment to students and the school. Alumni references to Mr. Correll… all share a positive tone. He is described as Chilocco’s ‘driving force,’ ‘wonderful,’ [and] ‘a fine man, we called him ‘Dad Correll.'” I bring this up not to minimize the damage the schools did nor excuse the atrocities they committed, but to illustrate the complexity of this topic. It would also be disingenuous not include the wide range of experiences at these schools. Another student at Chilocco wrote a letter to a North Dakota Agency complaining of a broken collarbone and not enough to eat only to be told to stop “whining about little matters.” Another student refused to Chilocco explaining, “I could stay there [at Chilocco) if they furnished clothing and good food. I don’t like to have bread and water three times a day, and beside work real hard, then get old clothes that been wear for three years at Chilocco [sic]. I rather go back to Cheyenne School.”

Regardless, all the schools caused lasting damage to Indigenous culture and communities. What Canada and the US claimed called assimilation “more accurately should be called ethnic cleansing…” explains Dr. Jennifer Nez Denetdale a Najavo Professor of American Studies at the University of New Mexico. Pratt may have had good intentions, but remember what they say the road to hell is paved with. Much like voluntourism today attempts to “help” American Indians through assimilation were rooted in colonialism and hurt more than they helped. Forrest S. Cuch, former director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs describes the damage done to his tribe, the Utes. “Assimilation affected the Utes in a very tragic way. It was so ineffective that it did not train us to become competent in the White World and it took us away from our own culture, so much so that we weren’t even competent as Indians anymore.” “Children do not understand their language and they’re Navajos. This was done to us.” explained Navajo/Dine elder Katherine Smith. Assimilation was nothing short of Cultural genocide as defined by the 2015 the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada:

“…the destruction of those structures and practices that allow the group to continue as a group. States that engage in cultural genocide set out to destroy the political and social institutions of the targeted group… Languages are banned. Spiritual leaders are persecuted, spiritual practices are forbidden, and objects of spiritual value are confiscated and destroyed. And, most significantly to the issue at hand, families are disrupted to prevent the transmission of cultural values and identity from one generation to the next.”

Residential boarding schools are yet another atrocity that remains suspiciously absent from American and Canadian history books, but they are popular in Indigenous horror (Rhymes for Young GhoulsThe Candy MeisterThese Walls), and for good reason. Survivors describe deplorable living conditions, rampant abuse, rape, starvation, and being torn away from their families and culture. Homesickness was a common problem for young children who had spent their entire lives surrounded by family. Ernest White Thunder, the son of chief White Thunder, became so homesick and depressed he refused to eat or take medicine until he finally died.

“Students arriving at Chilocco [Residential School] met the discrepancies between institutional life and family life at every turn. Military discipline entailed a high level of surveillance of students but constant adult supervision and control was impossible. The high ratio of students to adults and the comprehensive power wielded by those few adults compromised any flowering of surrogate parenting. In the dormitories, four adults might be responsible for over two hundred children. The loss of the parent/child relationship and the attenuated contact with school personnel reinforced bonds among the students, who forged new kinds of family ties within dorm rooms, work details, and gang territories. Dormitory home life-siblings and peers, living quarters and conditions, food and clothing, response to discipline-dominates narratives.”  (Tsianina Lomawaima)

Running away was common and could end tragically. Kathleen Wood shared one of her memories of students who ran away: “There were three boys that ran away from [Chuska Boarding School]. They wanted to go home… They were three brothers, they were from Naschitti. They ran away from here as winter… They did find the boys after a while, but the sad part is all three boys lost their legs.” Not everyone survived their attempts to return home, as was the tragic case for Chanie “Charlie” Wenjack (trigger warning for description of child death). At the Fort William Indian Residential School 6 children died and 16 more disappeared.

Indigenous children first entering residential school would often have their long hair cut short, an undoubtedly traumatic experience for many children. For the Cheyenne the cutting of hair is done as a sign of mourning and deathRoy Smith, a member of the Navajo Nation (Diné) where long hair is an essential part of one’s identity, describes his experience: “They all looked at me when they were giving me my haircut… My long hair falling off. And I was really hurt. The teaching from my grandfather was… your long hair is your strength, and your long hair is your wisdom, your knowledge.” Hair is also holds spiritual importance to the Nishnawbe Aski. An anonymous Nishnawbe Aski School survivor was left deeply hurt be her hair cut:

“When I was a girl. I had nice long black hair. My mother used to brush my hair for me and make braids. I would let the braids hang behind me or I would move them over my shoulders so they hung down front. I liked it when they were in front because I could see those little colored ribbons and they reminded me of my mother. Before I left home for residential school at Kenora my mother did my hair up in braids so I would look nice when I went to school. The first thing they did when I arrived at the school was to cut my braids off and throw them away. I was so hurt by their actions and I cried. It was as if they threw a part of me away – discarded in the garbage.” – Anonymous

***Content warning, descriptions of child abuse and sexual assault and an image of verbal abuse of a child below***

Students were severely beaten for not displaying unquestioning obedience and sometimes for no reason at all. Those in charge would constantly reinforce the message that Indigenous people were stupid, worthless, and inferior to Whites, destroying the children’s sense of self-worth. Some students were forced to kneel for long stretches of time, hold up heavy books in their outstretched arms, or locked in the basement for hours. Children would be force-fed spoiled meat and fish until they vomited, then forced to eat their own vomit. Some were even electrocuted. Chief Edmund Metatawabin recalls his experience at St. Anne’s Indian Residential School:

There was [an electric chair with] a metal handle on both sides you have to hold on to and there were brothers and sisters sitting around in the boys’ room. And of course the boys were all lined up. And somebody turned the power on and you can’t let go once the power goes on. You can’t let go… my feet were flying in front of me and I heard laughter. The nuns and the brothers were all laughing.” – Edmund Metatawabin

From 1992 until 1998 Ontario Provincial Police launched an investigation into the abuse at St. Anne’s Residential School after Chief Edmund Metatawabin presented them with evidence of the crimes. The police took statements from 700 St. Anne’s survivors, many of whom described incidents of sexual assault and abuse involving priests, nuns, and other staff. During her interview one survivor said “This shouldn’t have happened to us. They’re God’s workers, they were to look after us.” (link contains graphic descriptions of abuse). One figure estimates that one in five  students were sexually abused when attending residential school. But schools would cover up the abuse, and anyone who complained was intimidated into silence.

A priest is forcing a ball and chain, representing trauma, to a little girl in a residential school uniform. She is surrounded by red and orange speech bubbles saying cruel things like "Dirty Indian!," "Shut up! Stupid Girl! Do as you're told!," "Savage!," and "You're going to hell for your pagan beliefs. You need religion."

The verbal abuse shown here is paraphrased from actual things said to Residential school survivals. They are taken from interviews and autobiographies. If you or someone you know is being abused, go here. Learn more about forms of abuse here.

All this pain and suffering was committed under the pretense of “civilizing” Native people, when in reality it was Cultural Genocide driven by White supremacy. “The whole move was to make Indian children white… Of course, at the end of the school experience, the children still weren’t white. They were not accepted by White mainstream America. When they went back to their tribal homelands, they didn’t fit in at home anymore either.” says Kay McGowan, who teaches cultural anthropology at Eastern Michigan University. Inuvialuit author Margaret Pokiak-Fenton describes how her mother did not even recognize her when she returned home in her children’s book Not my Girl. As if the rejection wasn’t heart breaking enough, Margaret had forgotten much of her own language and struggled to communicate with her family. Another residential school survivor, Elaine Durocher, says “They were there to discipline you, teach you, beat you, rape you, molest you, but I never got an education…. [instead] it taught me how to lie, how to manipulate, how to exchange sexual favors for cash, meals, whatever the case may be.” In a video for Women’s Centre she volunteers at she discusses how “The teachers were always hitting us because we were just ‘stupid Indians'”.

***End of content warning***

“[People] need to know that it was an event that happened to a lot of kids, that it wasn’t just a few; it was literally thousands of kids that suffered. I’ve come to realize that there were also others where the experience for them was actually very good, and I don’t question that. I can only relate to mine. Mine wasn’t a good one, and I know a lot of really good friends who also did not have a good experience.” – Joseph Williams

In The Marrow Thieves the government and the church join forces to perform experiments on prisoners, and later Indigenous people, in order to find a cure for the dreamless plague. And if you were hoping that was just a metaphor for destroying cultural identities and real residential schools never sunk so low as to experiment on helpless children, well, you’d be wrong. Science has a dark history of exploiting the most vulnerable populations for unethical experiments. In the U.S. alone enslaved women were tortured and mutilated by the father of gynecology  without any form of anesthesia (1845-1849), the government backed Tuskegee syphilis experiment (1932-1972) infected hundreds of Black men without their knowledge or consent, a stuttering experiment (1939) performed on orphans is now known as “The Monster Study,” elderly Jewish patients were injected with liver cancer cells (1963) to “discover the secret of how healthy bodies fight the invasion of malignant cells,” and inmates in the Holmesburg Prison were used to test the effects of various toxic chemicals on skin (1951-1974).

In the 1920s experimental eyes surgeries to treat trachoma were conducted on Southwestern US Natives. The contagious eye disease became an epidemic on Southwestern reservations, affecting up to 40% of some tribal groups. “Some tribes, such as the Navajo, experienced no “sore eyes” prior to their defeat by the United States, yet once confined to the reservation, they witnessed a significant increase in unexplained eye problems.” (Trennert) GEE I WONDER WHY. Maybe it had something to do with being forced to live in poverty on shitty reservations where their access to healthcare and sanitation was limited? The government decided to “help” by once again making it worse. The Indian office opened an eye clinic and hired the Otolaryngologist Dr. Ancil Martin to run it. Dr. Martin began the student treatment program before he had any idea how to cure trachoma. He decided to test out a surgical procedure called “grattage” which involved cutting the granules off the eyelids (without anesthesia of coure). One little girl described the experience: “During the operation they cut off little rough things from under the eyelid. It was a grisly scene, with blood running all over. The children had to be held down tight.” (Trennert) Unfortunately the experimental treatment only provided temporary relief and those children who recovered where left with permanent damage to their eyelids. Later, as part of the “Southwestern Trachoma Campaign,” ophthalmologist Dr. Webster Fox convinced the Indian Office to take even more drastic measures and surgically remove the tarsus (the plate of connective tissue inside each eyelid that contributes to the eyelids form and support). His reasoning for this was because he did not believe Indians would submit to prolonged treatment and it was better to “remove the disease more quickly and with less deformity than the way Nature goes about it.” Yikes.

In case you were hoping this was a tragic but isolated incident, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. When giving testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada survivors consistently described an environment where “hunger was never absent.” Residential school meals were typical low in calories (they ranged from 1000 to 1450 calories per day, undernourishment is considered less than 1,800 calories per day), vegetables, fruit, protein, and fat, all essential parts of a growing child’s diet. “We cried to have something good to eat before we sleep. A lot of the times the food we had was rancid, full of maggots, stink. Sometimes we would sneak away from school to go visit our aunts or uncles, just to have a piece of bannock.” explained school survivor Andrew Paul. Food-borne illnesses were another common occurrence. Although at least partly due to negligence or a lack of funds some schools intentionally withheld food to see how the children’s bodies would react to malnutrition, especially as they fought off viruses and infections. “When investigators came to the schools in the mid-1940s they discovered widespread malnutrition at both of the schools” explained food historian Dr. Ian Mosby. ” “In the 1940s, there were a lot of questions about what are human requirements for vitamins… Malnourished aboriginal people became viewed as possible means of testing these theories.” Mosby said an interview with the Toronto Star. And so Indigenous Canadian children became unwitting guinea pigs in an unethical study. Between 1942 and 1952 Dr. Percy Moore, head of the superintendent for medical services for the Department of Indian Affairs, and Dr. Frederick Tisdall, former president of the Canadian Pediatric Society performed illicit nutrition experiments on students at St. Mary’s School. Milk and dairy rations were withheld. Instead children were given a fortified flour mixture containing B vitamins and bone meal. The experimental supplement impacted their development and caused children to become dangerously anemic, and continued to have negative effects on them as adults. Incidentally, this experimental flour mix was illegal in the rest of Canada.

A decade later the U.S. Air Force’s Arctic Aeromedical Laboratory in Fairbanks wanted to study the role the thyroid gland played in acclimating humans to cold in hopes of improving their operational capability in cold environments. The hypothesis was that Alaskan Natives were somehow physically better adapted to cold environments than White people This is another example of scientific racism as the study didn’t bother looking at the White inhabitants of the Arctic Circle:  Greenlanders, who hypothetically should have a similar resistance to the cold. Instead, they chose to focus on Alaskan Natives almost as if they were a different species. The othering didn’t end there. Participants (84 Inuit, 17 Athabascan Indians, and 19 White service members) were given a medical tracer, the radioisotope iodine 131 to measure thyroid function. Guess who wasn’t told they were part of the experiment? Instead of informing the Indigenous test subjects they were participating in a research study as would’ve been required by the recently created Nuremberg Code (the first point in the code literally says “The voluntary consent of the human subject is absolutely essential”), the scientists just said “Fuck it, we do what we want!” I mean, it’s not like someone might want to know they were being given RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL or anything right? Not only did the experiment offer no potential benefit to the Alaskan Natives who participated but the original hypothesis was disproven. The Airforce provided no follow up tests or treatment for the test subjects to insure they hadn’t suffered any long-term effects.

Students at Kenora residential school were used as test subjects for ear infection drugs, again without their knowledge or consent. School nurse Kathleen Stewart wrote in her report “The most conspicuous evidence of ear trouble at Cecilia Jeffrey School has been the offensive odor of the children’s breath, discharging ears, lack of sustained attention, poor enunciation when speaking and loud talking,” In a follow-up report she noted three children “were almost deaf with no ear drums, six had [hearing in] one ear gone.”

Human research violations aren’t just a problem of the distant past before the IRB was established. In 1979 Native leaders asked researchers to help them assess the drinking problem in their community in Barrow, Alaska. They were hoping to cooperate with them to find a solution. Instead the researchers went ahead and publicly shared the results of the Barrow Alcohol Study with news outlets. Because the study implied the majority of adults in Barrow were alcoholics (which was inaccurate), left out the socioeconomic context which led to drinking problems, and then announced the results without representatives from the tribal community, it caused both a great deal of shame and direct financial harm. Starting in the 1990s, Arizona State University obtained blood from the Havasupai tribe under false pretenses. Instead of using the samples for diabetes research like they had promised the tribal members, researchers used the Havasupai’s DNA for a wide range of genetic studies. This continued until 2003 when a Havasupai college student discovered how the blood was being used without permission. Carletta Tilousi explained in an NPR Interview “Part of it is it was a part of my body that was taken from me, a part of my blood and a part of our bodies as Native-Americans are very sacred and special to us and we should respect it.”

Keeping all this in mind the dystopian future that Dimaline created suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Indigenous people have already had their land stolen, their graves robbed, their children kidnapped, and their culture appropriated. They’ve even had their blood taken under false pretenses. Indigenous children held prisoner in residential schools were deliberately starved and denied access to basic healthcare all in the name of science. The Marrow Thieves feels especially poignant right now, with the Americas experiencing (at the time of writing this) some of the highest Covid-19 rates in the world. Who would we sacrifice to find a cure? Pfizer, the company responsible for making one of the two currently available Covid vaccines did illegal human research as recently as the 90’s. “What does it mean when the disproportionate disease burden currently faced by Indigenous communities is, in large part, the product of a residential system that the TRC has found was nothing short of a cultural genocide?” asks Mosby. “In part, it means that we need to rethink the current behavioral and pharmacologic approaches… in Indigenous communities. In their place, we need more community-driven, trauma-informed and culturally appropriate interventions… [and] also acknowledge the role of residential schools in determining the current health problems faced by residential school survivors and their families…[M]ost importantly, we need to demand that the next generation of Indigenous children have access to the kinds of plentiful, healthy, seasonal and traditional foods that were denied to their parents and grandparents, as a matter of government policy” he argues.

The worst part about the residential school is that even after they closed, their legacy remained and the damage they did would affect future generations. A report entitled Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the Conversation states “The [Royal Commission on Aboriginals Peoples] named residential schools as a significant cause of family violence in Indigenous communities… and the intergenerational impacts of residential schools on the prevalence continues to be recognized…”. Many of the abused students became abusers themselves, taking out their pain, fear, and frustration on the younger children. After leaving the school, survivors continued to suffer from low self esteem, hopelessness, painful memories and severe mental, social, and emotional damage. Boarding school trauma was then passed down from parent to child and the cycle of abuse would continue.  Because the children were deprived of affection and family during their formative years, many of them left residential school emotionally stunted and unable to openly express love, even towards their own children.

“Few [students] came out of residential schools having learned good boundaries, and good boundaries included some sense of self-determination, sovereignty over your own body. They didn’t have any control over that, and they didn’t see people around with appropriate behavior and being respectful of them as human beings, that they were sacred. And they were abused. Children learn what they live and that was their life.” – Sylvia Maracle, executive director of the Ontario Federation of Indigenous Friendship Centres.

Add in loss of land, racism, poverty, and a lack of healthcare and support and you’re left with a complex system of trauma that’s stacked against Indigenous people and their recovery. A report prepared for the Aboriginal Healing Foundation entitled Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada states:

 “Social and political violence inflicted upon Aborigional children, families and communities by the state and the churches through the residential school system not only created the patterns of violence communities are now experiencing but also introduced the family and community to behaviors that are impeding collective recovery.”

In her award-winning autobiography They Called Me Number One writer and former Xat’sull chief Bev Sellars discusses the long-lasting damage to her done by St. Joseph’s Mission.  Sellars watched helplessly as her brother’s personality completely changed as a result of sexual abuse and he began to take out his rage and pain on her. Sellar’s own trauma affected the way she interacted with her three children. She practiced an authoritarian style of parenting she had learned from the school and expected her children to hide their pain instead of expressing it as she was forced to do. Because the only touch Sellars experienced at the residential school was painful and abusive she feared any form of physical contact and was unable to hug anyone until her own children were grown. She continued to fear disobeying any White person or authority figure and made her want her children to behave perfectly in front of Whites.

She describes how she suffered from panic attacks, migraines, nightmares, memory problems, emotional numbness, angry outbursts, shame and phobias after attending the residential school. Because her complaints of mistreatment were dismissed and summarily punished by those in charge, Sellars developed a learned helplessness and “why bother?” attitude. Years of brainwashing by the nuns and priests caused Sellars to see “the world through the tunnel vision of the mission” and led her to believe she was inferior because she was Indigenous. Those familiar with trauma will recognize these as PTSD symptoms commonly seen in survivors. Unfortunately, emotional and mental health were still poorly understood in the 1960s and medical services are limited on reservations forcing survivors like Sellars to find other ways to numb their pain.

***Content warning for image of depressive thoughts below***

The girl from earlier is now a grown woman. She looks depressed, is wearing dark clothing, and hugging herself. The ball and chain that represents trauma are chained around her ankle. Dark thoughts fill her head like: “I must have deserved it,” “Nothing will ever get better, what’s the point?,” “Maybe there really is something wrong with being Native…,””The pain will never stop. I’m so tired of it, I just want to be numb,” and “Everyone hurts me, I can’t trust anyone. I’m all alone.”

The ball and chain represent the trauma the residential school survivor has to carry around with her. Her thoughts are based on those common to people with trauma. Please contact a mental health provider (listed at the beginning and end of the review) if you have similar thoughts.

***End of content warning***

In The Marrow Thieves Wab eventually shares how her mother became addicted to alcohol and later crack cocaine. The stress of living in a dirty, overcrowded military state while trying not to starve or get taken away by the school staff became too much for her. Wab wonders if her mother could feel herself dying and just gave up. Alcohol and drugs are frequently abused by those who’ve experienced trauma or have untreated mental illness. In fact, childhood abuse is prevalent among alcoholics, and children who experience trauma are four to twelve times more likely to engage in substance abuse. Sellars’ brother never recovered from the sexual abuse he experienced at the hands of the priests and developed an addiction to alcohol. Others survivors die by suicide. According to the CDC the suicide rate among adolescent American Indians is more than twice the U.S. average and the highest of any ethnic groups. Amanda Blackhorse explains “…we’re still feeling the effects of boarding schools today… and it has completely demolished the Indigenous familial system. And many of our people are suffering and they don’t… realize that they are suffering from the boarding school system. Many of us don’t even understand it…”

However, while alcoholism is definitely a problem in Native populations the stereotype of the “drunken Indian” is no more than a harmful myth. Indigenous people aren’t “genetically more susceptible to alcoholism” and American Indians are actually more likely to abstain from alcohol that Whites.

 “The participants in this study talked about historical trauma as an ongoing problem that is at the root of substance abuse issues in their families and communities. Further, the participants believed their experiences to be shared or common among other AI families and communities. Feelings about historical trauma among the participants, their families, and/or their communities included disbelief that these events could have happened, sadness, and fear that such events could recur; however, there also were messages about strength and survival.” – Laurelle L. Myhra

This huge, horrible thing that scarred thousands of survivors and had long lasting effects for Indigenous populations is almost entirely unknown outside of Native, Inuit and Métis communities, and the Canadian Government continues to underfund education and health services for Indigenous children. But there are many Indigenous people, like Bev Sellars, who are not just surviving, but flourishing, and in turn helping others to recover. Indigenous founded and run groups such as The National Indigenous Women’s Resource CenterFreedom LodgeIndigenous Circle of Wellness, and Biidaaban Healing Lodge, are all working to heal generational trauma by combining traditional Indigenous healing practices and modern trauma-informed therapy to create a holistic approach to wellness and mental health. Horror and Apocalyptic Fiction has also given Indigenous creators a way to process this generational trauma and make a wider audience aware of these historical atrocities. But even with everything Indigenous people have suffered through, they’re still here. The Marrow Thieves similarly ends on a hopeful note with Frenchie and his friends holding their heads high as they march into the future.

The woman is now older, wearing bright clothing, and looks happy. She has a Native-made T-shirt that says “you are sacred.” The speech and though bubbles all have bright colors. People are giving the woman positive affirmations like “You aren’t alone,” “You deserve to be happy,” and “Don’t measure yourself by colonizer standards.” Her thoughts are happy now instead of dark. The woman thinks “I don’t need permission to speak, exist, or take up space,” “My language, beliefs, and culture are not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’,” “What was done to me was not my fault and it does not define me,” and “I am strong. I am brave. I have value.”

The girl from the residential school is all grown up, and with the support from her community has started to heal. Her trauma, now represented by a balloon to show the “weight” of it is now gone, is still there but is no longer impeding her ability to enjoy life. She finally feels free to celebrate her Chippewa culture and heritage, as reflected by her bright clothing and long braids. Her T-shirt is from Choctaw journalist and artist Johnnie Jae’s collection. Her skirt is based on the work of Chippewa fashion designer Delina White. Her scarf has a floral Chippewa design.

Sources:

Unspoken: America’s Native American Boarding Schools, PBS, 2016

The Indian Problem, The Smithsonian, 2016

In the White Man’s Image, PBS, 1992

Bopp, J., Bopp, M., and Lane, P.  Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation. 2003. https://epub.sub.uni-hamburg.de/epub/volltexte/2009/2900/pdf/aboriginal_domestic_violence.pdf

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. An Indigenous People’s History of the United States. Boston: Beacon Press, 2014.

Fortunate Eagle, Adam. Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School. University of Oklahoma Press, 2010.

Health Justice, Daniel. Why Indigenous Literature Matters. Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2018.

Holmes, C. and Hunt, S. Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the ConversationNational Collaborating Center for Aboriginal Health, 2017.  https://www.nccih.ca/docs/emerging/RPT-FamilyViolence-Holmes-Hunt-EN.pdf

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Not My Girl. Annick Press, 2014.

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Fatty Legs. Annick Press, 2010.

Mihesuah, Devon A. American Indians Stereotypes & Realities. 1996. Reprint. Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2009.

Mihesuah, Devon A. So you Want to Write About American Indians?: A Guide for Writers, Students, and Scholars. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005.

Pember, Mary Annette. “Death by Civilization.” Atlantic, 8 March. 2019.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/03/traumatic-legacy-indian-boarding-schools/584293/

Robertson, David Alexander. Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story. Highwater Press, 2012.

Sellars, Bev. They Called Me Number One: Secrets and Survival at an Indian Residential School. Talonbooks, 2013.

Sterling, Sherling. My Name is Seepeetza. Groundwood Books, 1992.

Trafzer, C. E., Keller, J.A., eds. Boarding School Blues: Revisiting American Indian Educational Experiences. Bison Books, 2006.

Treuer, Anton. Everything You Wanted to Know about Indians But Were Afraid to Ask. St Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2012.

Tsianina Lomawaima, K. They Called It Prairie Light: The Story of Chilocco Indian School. University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Robinson-Desjarlais, Shaneen (host). Residential Schools Podcast Series. Audio podcast, February 21, 2020. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools-podcast-series

Dawson, Alexander S. “Histories and Memories of the Indian Boarding Schools in Mexico, Canada, and the United States.” Latin American Perspectives 39, no. 5 (2012): 80-99. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41702285.

F4 by Larissa Glasser

F4 by Larissa Glasser

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Eraser Head Press

Genre: Blood & Guts, Body Horror, Monster, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans women, Bisexual women, Queer women

Takes Place in: North Atlantic ocean

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Bullying, Drug Use/Abuse, Death,  Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Mention of Medical Procedures, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Stalking, Suicide, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence 

Blurb

A cruise ship on the back of a sleeping kaiju. A transgender bartender trying to come terms with who she is. A rift in dimensions known as The Sway. A cruel captain. A storm of turmoil, insanity and magic is coming together and taking the ship deep into the unknown. What will Carol the bartender learn in this maddening non-place that changes bodies and minds alike into bizarre terrors? What is the sleeping monster who holds up the ship trying to tell her? What do Carol’s fractured sense of self and a community of internet trolls have to do with the sudden pull of The Sway?

Please note: This review was written before I was out as genderqueer. In the review I refer to myself as not being part of the trans/non-binary community. This inaccurate. 

The horror genre is not generally kind to trans-women, frequently depicting them as serial killers and/or sexual deviants. Hell, fiction in general doesn’t treat trans people well, forcing them into a victim role and focusing on their angst and dysphoria. So you can imagine how unbelievably excited I was when I learned that Eraserhead Press was publishing a horror story about a bad ass trans woman who fights monsters and alt-right trolls. Even better, it was being written by a trans woman! Glasser is  a librarian from Boston which makes her five-hundred times cooler in my eyes (I love librarians, they’re like keepers of secret knowledge and they know everything). The reviews for F4 have so far been unanimously positive, the premise sounded weird and awesome, and it promised representation rarely found in the horror genre. F4 was like everything I had wished for and I could not pre-order it fast enough.

Well, apparently whatever jinni decided to grant my wish for an awesome trans-lady horror story written by a trans person was one of those dick bag jinn who likes to pull that Monkey’s Paw shit, because I haven’t been this disappointed since I first saw Star Wars Episode One after months of hype.

 

I’m clutching handfuls of blue bills and angrily screaming at the Djinn from the Wishmaster film series who is looking please with himself. I yell “Why the FUCK would I wish for $100,000 in Zimbabwe dollars you unbelievable asshole!?!”

I guess I’m just lucky the Djinn didn’t give me $10,000 in pennies that fell from the sky and crushed me to death.

Carol, the main character of the story, is a trans-woman who works as a bartender on the Finasteride, a cruise ship built on the back of the F4. This name does not, in fact, come from one of those computer function keys that no one ever uses for anything (except maybe the F5 key), but instead refers to the last of four kaiju that mysteriously appeared on earth and fucked up a bunch of stuff. Okay, so far so good. Then, all of a sudden, everyone on board starts turning into eldritch abominations… and thus begins a confusing clusterfuck of unexplained randomness. The transformations may or may not have something to do with a dimensional rift called the Sway, which isn’t mentioned prior to everything going to hell, is never fully explained, and may or may not be common knowledge in the book’s world.  Carol’s creepy boss and his even creepier buddy are behind everything, because they want to sail into the Sway, but their motivation is never explained beyond some vague lust for power. Well, if it works for Saturday morning cartoon villains I guess it’s fine. There’s also a wizard who lives in the Sway and can control the Kaiju, who we’ve also never heard of before and who also isn’t really explained. Again, it’s really unclear whether this is common knowledge or not, or if the Sway is actually just some giant, extra-dimensional plot hole and we’re just expected to go with it. The weirdest part is that even though the wizard controls the kaiju, he isn’t evil despite his giant beasts killing millions of people. One of them even destroyed New York City looking for Carol (why though!?!), but fuck all those victims, I guess? Why is no one horrified by all this? Oh, and apparently Carol’s penis is some sort of magical flesh key or something, I don’t even know. Maybe her penis’ magic is why she gets erections constantly (and won’t shut up about it), despite having had an orchidectomy. Usually, having your testicles removed or going on testosterone blockers causes penis-having folk to have very few spontaneous erections (and some stop getting erections all together) so it seems really odd that Carol keeps getting constant danger boners (which would be an awesome band name) but I’m hardly an expert, so whatever.

In addition to her bartending duties, Carol also makes sex videos on the side with her friend Chole, another transwoman whom she’s slightly obsessed with. Carol’s wait staff of trans women, or “lady dicks” as she calls them, also make extra cash “servicing” the passengers of the Finasteride. This is the part that made me feel really weird. Frequently when trans people appear in fiction, it’s as some sort of sex worker, and they’re being written by cis folk who have little understanding of, or respect for both trans women or sex workers. It’s such a cliché that cops will actually harass trans women on the street because they assume they’re prostitutes. So having the majority of the trans women in a story do some sort of sex work felt problematic, especially since most of the clients appeared to consider them a fetish rather than real people. It certainly doesn’t help that Carol doesn’t even seem to like doing web-cam work, and is only tolerating it because Chole pressured her into making porn. I enjoy naked people having sexy fun times as much as the next person, especially when those people are queer and/or non-binary, and one of the things that originally drew me to F4 was the promise of erotica with trans-ladies. But when the participants are being pressured, exploited, or fetishized, porn is just gross. F4 felt more like the later. The sex scenes aren’t even arousing. One involves a toothless dude drooling in Carol’s ass crack as she feels uncomfortable and wishes it were over. Ick. Chole also gets sexually assaulted by one of the kaiju’s parasites in a really uncomfortable scene (which I think was supposed to be humorous?) and Carol does exactly jack and shit to help her friend. Maybe weird, unappealing sex is a staple of bizarro fiction, but trans women are disrespected enough in the porn industry, I was really hoping it wouldn’t happen here too.

The comic is titled “Trying to find trans porn.” The first panel says, “what I expected” and depicts me blushing and looking aroused while I imagine two women of color, one of whom is plus-sized, in an intimate situation looking lovingly at each color. The second panels says, “What I got” and shows me recoiling in horror and disgust from my laptop. A toxic green speech bubble reveals what is written on the screen, and is full of transphobic language like “Tr***y Sex”, “Trap Hentai”, and “Lady boys”.

F4 isn’t like the terrible, transphobic porn you might find online, but it’s not particularly good erotica either.

My confusion regarding the story line made it difficult to focus on the book (as did the frequent mention of dicks), and I probably would’ve given up on it completely if not for part two, the saving grace of F4. Part two is proof that Glasser really is a talented author. Instead of getting a bunch of random nonsense throw at us we get an intriguing and suspenseful, but straight forward story of Carol’s life prior to the Finasteride. Her character suddenly feels relatable. She’s dating a loser she can’t seem to dump, living in the middle of nowhere, and trying to figure out what to do with her life. Carol witnesses a murder, and tries to do the right thing by reporting it to the cops. But since no good deed goes unpunished, she finds herself in the media spot light after becoming a key witness in the murder case, and becomes a victim of an online hate campaign by a bunch of transphobic trolls. Part 2 is great! It’s intriguing, suspenseful, we finally get some explanations about what’s going on, and of course Glasser had to go and ruin it by making part 3 even more random and confusing. This just made me hate the rest of the book even more because I now knew I could’ve been enjoying a well-written story about a trans woman vs. a bunch of internet trolls, and dealing with the dilemma of being punished for doing the right thing. But instead I had to put up with awkward sex, magical girl dicks, and a series of loosely connected plot holes. So I became bitter and sulkily rushed through the third part of the story, desperate to find some of the magic from Part 2. The only thing that redeemed part 3 was Carol killing the two entitled dudebros who fucked everyone over for more power, one of whom was the leader of the internet trolls who ruined her life. That was immensely satisfying.

So yeah, I really didn’t like this book. Of course, I’m not trans (well, I am, but I wasn’t out when I first wrote this), so it’s possible my privilege was preventing me from recognizing the appeal of F4. All the reviews I had read online were overwhelming positive, so what was I missing? Was it just not intended for me? So I went to my friend, Ashley Rogers (who you may remember from the Oddity post), for help. I figured since she’s an author herself, a trans sensitivity reader, and a trans rights activist she’d be able to offer some valuable insight. Although Ashley is currently busy working on SCOWL: Fight for your Rights, a subversive, queer-focused, stage combat piece (I designed the logo so I have to shamelessly pimp the project), she was kind enough to take some time out of her busy schedule to share her opinion with me. I also asked her to explain what Glasser meant when she kept talking about “hatching eggs”, but Ashley didn’t know either, nor did any of the other trans and non-binary people I asked, and I eventually had to resort to Reddit and Urban Dictionary.

I’m climbing through the window of my friend, Ashley Roger’s, apartment (presumably having broken in). “Ashley help! What does it mean for a trans person to “hatch”? Are magical dicks empowering or weird? What about trans porn?” I ask. Ashley, a tall woman with a fashionable blue top, blond-streaked, shoulder length hair, and expertly done make-up, is sitting on the couch and leaning away from me, looking annoyed. “How do you keep getting in here?” she demands.

It turns out “eggs” refer to closeted trans folk still struggling with their identity who have not yet come into their own.

Ashley had the following to say:

First a disclaimer: Trans/n-b folk can and should be able to tell whatever stories we want.  I love bizarre and spooky material, and I want trans folk to succeed, and regardless of my feelings on this novel I am excited to see more from Larissa Glasser…
Buuuuuuuut…

My main criticism is that the piece doesn’t seem to know what it wants or who it’s written for. F4 intends to shock (evidenced by the material referenced in the piece such as Cannibal Holocaust and The Human Centipede) but it falls short of living up to those expectations.  We don’t live in the uncomfortable moments and grotesque situations long enough to care.  At most we’re left with a sense of “ok… That’s fucked up,” but then we move on to something else before we have a chance to feel unsettled.

Part two feels like a completely different (and subjectively better) novel entirely.  I was gripped by the backstory and it had a great flow, and some of the concepts are really cool (Hell, it’s about turning a Kaiju into a cruise liner!!), but as a trans woman I couldn’t help but be bored by how often Carol popped a boner in the face of danger.  One of the positive critiques I’ve seen from other trans women is that it’s a story that isn’t about a trans character who’s sad, angry, and depressed about surgical transition/dysphoria but the way the author focuses on Carol’s anatomy and overly sexual descriptions rather than creating the atmosphere distracts from the story and intriguingly bizarre concept of the piece in the same way these other pieces focus on the tragedy porn that gets written about our physical transition struggles.  If this book was all part two I would be writing a very different statement but… I wish it were either more shocking in execution or more approachable in material, but as it stands it sits in limbo of both.

I won’t lie, I feel genuinely guilty about not liking F4. I mean, everyone else loves it, and I want to be supportive of trans and non-binary folk in a cis-centric genre, but I just could not enjoy the story. I had no idea what was going on half the time, a lot of it just seemed to be weird for the sake of weirdness and contributed nothing to the story, and, the sex scenes felt more gross and exploitative than sexy and empowering. I liked the ideas behind F4, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Glasser clearly has talent as a writer, as is evident from part 2 of the story, so maybe I just don’t like bizzaro horror, I don’t know.  At the very least I can say it’s like nothing I’ve ever read before. In the mean time, I’m going to stick to reading Nerve Endings when I’m in the mood for some well written trans erotica.

Oddity by Ashley Lauren Rogers

Genre: Body Horror, Historic Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Trans characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Procedures, Transphobia/Misgendering, Violence

Blurb

A “Gender Specialist” is brought into a secret Victorian–Era medical facility deep within the earth to unravel the mystery of a series of murders and body mutilations which have taken place. As he meets the sole survivor and begins to unravel the mystery as his claustrophobic paranoia begins to overtake him the specialist finds it hard to believe anything he’s told.

So, full disclosure, this isn’t so much a review as it is an unpaid promotion for my friend’s new play Oddity, and I’ve only read the script, not seen the play itself. But fear not, this isn’t one of those situations where I felt pressured to pay compliments for the sake of our friendship, both because Ashley is an incredibly talented writer and I love reading her stuff, and because I’m an asshole who will let my friends know exactly what I think in the least tactful way imaginable. Which is probably why no one ever asks for my opinion…

My wife watched me draw this and wanted to know why I put her in such an ugly skirt. “It’s for the review honey!”

Anyway, like I said, Ashley is a talented writer who has written for CosmopolitanThe Mary Sue, SFWA, and John Scalzi Blog. And for you other writers out there looking to diversify your work, she also developed a workshop for writing trans and nonbinary narratives available on WritingTheOther.com. She’s also the one who introduced me to Rick and Morty and has fantastic hair. Neither of those things has anything to do with her writing, she just has excellent taste.

 
Ashley’s new play, Oddity, is part of the Trans Theatre Fest at The Brick in Brooklyn. It’s a creepy, suspenseful, psychological body horror play about gender that includes: flashbacks to a carnival freak show, a subterranean steampunkesque facility à la Jules Verne, and monster crabs (the crustacean kind, not the pubic lice kind).
 
 The plays starts with terrified screams and the professor (who’s never given a name) violently awakens to a doctor trying to push mysterious pills on him, a soldier “guarding” his room who won’t use his correct pronouns or let him out for “classified” reasons, and the discovery that he’s been losing time. His concerns are dismissed, his questions ignored, and he’s consistently told to calm down. The professor is experiencing classic gaslighting, and here’s the brilliant bit: between the dreams, flashbacks, lies, discrepancies, seemingly out-of-place items, and all around weird occurrences, it’s difficult to determine what’s real and what isn’t, mirroring the professor’s paranoia. At parts, I found myself frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and unnerved by the overall feeling of “wrongness”. The body horror was pretty scary in and of itself, but it was the gaslighting that was truly terrifying. But fear not, everything makes sense in the end.
 
In fact, the ending was probably my favorite part. When everything finally falls into place it hits you like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help yelling out a few expletives in surprise (much to the annoyance of my napping cat). This was literally my reaction while reading the play: “Hmmm, okay, that’s creepy. Wait, what the…WHAT? WTF!?!!? Oh god oh god oh god, no no no no no no. Wait… but then that means… OMG. HOLY SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. WTF.” So yeah, good job Ashley, I actually yelled out loud at my computer screen after finishing your play.
 
And that was just the script. I can’t even imagine how I’d react to the actual performance, with actors Kelsey Jefferson Barrett, Kitty Mortland, Sam Lopresti, Aliyah Hakim, and Samantha Elizabeth Turlington, and directed by Ariel Mahler. So if you’d enjoy a creepy mindfuck of a play about trans people, by trans people, check out Oddity at the Brick theater (579 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn NY) on the following dates:
 
Thursday, July 20 @ 9:20pm
Saturday, July 22 @ 2pm
Monday, July 24 @ 9pm
 
Tickets are only $20.00 and you can purchase them here:
Bleeding Earth by Kaitlin Ward

Bleeding Earth by Kaitlin Ward

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Adaptive Studios

Genre: Blood & Guts, Apocalypse/Disaster, Psychological Horror, Romance

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Lesbian characters, Hispanic/Latine character

Takes Place in: New Hampshire, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Mental Illness, Racism, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Between Mother Nature and human nature, disasters are inevitable. 

Lea was in a cemetery when the earth started bleeding. Within twenty-four hours, the blood made international news. All over the world, blood oozed out of the ground, even through the concrete, even in the water. Then the earth started growing hair and bones.
Lea wishes she could ignore the blood. She wishes she could spend time with her new girlfriend, Aracely, in public, if only Aracely wasn’t so afraid of her father. Lea wants to be a regular teen again, but the blood has made her a prisoner in her own home. Fear for her social life turns into fear for her sanity, and Lea must save herself and her girlfriend however she can.

Happy Pride month! Here’s something fun for queer horror fans, after Netflix accidently featured the Australian indie horror film, The Babadook, on their LGBT movie page, the titular creature has quickly become a Pride meme and it’s wonderful. If you haven’t seen the film, it’s awesome, go watch it.

A tall, dark, creepy creature with long fingers and a white face is wearing a top hat with a rainbow button, rainbow suspenders, a purple feather boa, sparkly pink flamingo glasses, and a belly shirt that says “Get Ready to be Babashook.”

Artwork by Muffin Pines at http://muffinpines.tumblr.com/

For June I’ll be reviewing two horror stories with queer characters, the first of which is Bleeding Earth. And oh man, did this book mess me up good. I was expecting a gory, end of the world sort of book, and instead I got a heartbreaking survival story about love, family, and humanity (yes I know how cheesy that sounds, shut up). It gave me so much anxiety, and so many emotions, and I’m still trying to process what the hell I just read. But I know it was good. It was really freaking good. And there was so much blood. Blood, and bones, and hair. I love blood. And bones. Not wads of hair though, I have my limits.

In the first caption I’m wearing a light pink dress and covered in blood. I’m clearly enjoying the blood dripping through my hair and down my shoulders because I’m smearing it on my ecstatic face while sighing “Mmmmmm, So much blood.” In the next panel I’m screaming “OH GROSS, HAIR!”  in disgust and pulling away from a wad of bloody hair I’ve just noticed.

I was going for a “Carrie at the Prom” kind of look.

Lea, the novel’s protagonist and narrator, is enjoying the blossoming relationship she shares with her girlfriend, Aracely, when the blood first appears. Now, normally teen romances in dystopias and apocalyptic fiction seems tacked on and out of place. I mean, who worries about crushes when their life is on the line? But in Bleeding Earth, it works beautifully. Surrounded by chaos and despair, Lea wants to hold onto one of the few good things she has left to keep her going, because no one knows how long they have left. The girls are still in their honeymoon phase, so everything still feels wonderful and new, a sharp contrast to the reality around them. When Lea starts experiencing night terrors and hallucinations from stress and isolation, talking to her girlfriend on the phone is the only thing that helps her. And when she wants to give up, it’s Aracely that keeps her going. And I just can’t bring myself to begrudge her that one little bit of happiness. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who makes you feel safe and lets you forget your problems for a while? It gave my cold, little heart all the feels.The scariest thing about Bleeding Earth isn’t the blood, hair, and bones seeping up from the ground. It’s the feeling of isolation, uncertainty, and powerlessness. At least with zombies, aliens, and diseases there’s always something you can do, a safe zone to flee to, a cure, an end in sight. But with the blood there’s nowhere to escape, no way to fight back, and no stopping the blood. No one knows what’s causing it, or if it will ever end. There are no answers or explanations to soothe the scared populace. And while I normally hate it when a story doesn’t give me an explanation, here it actually works. It’s so much more frightening when you don’t know what’s happening, and there’s literally nothing you can do about it. Will things get better? Is this the end of the world? Did humanity piss off the earth so much it’s finally rejecting them? Even at the start of the bleeding, when everyone is still doing their best to “keep calm and carry on,” fear is already causing people to take desperate actions. Lea’s mom obsessively measures their water and screams at her friends when they drink some, her father nails boards over all the windows so they’re in complete darkness, a man attacks Aracely with a bone over a breathing mask, and some jerks at an Apocalypse party try to get an inebriated girl to drink the blood. It starts with fights over tampons in the grocery store, then looting Home Depot, to violence and riots, and it only gets worse from there. Much, MUCH worse.Now, I know poor decision making seems to be a staple of Y/A fiction (one that annoys me to no end), but here, it makes sense. Everyone is absolutely terrified, struggling with isolation and the horror of what’s happening around them, while still trying their damnedest to pretend like everything is going to be fine. And scared, stressed people do not behave in a rational manner. At various points the teenagers in the story become so desperate for normalcy and human contact they’re willing to brave the blood and all its dangers just to be together. Is this a good idea? No, absolutely not. But is it understandable? Completely. Humans are social creatures, so much so that isolation can actually be deadly. And here’s the original research to back it up. I’m an introvert who prefers a quiet night at home, and even I felt stressed and nauseous when poor Lea described being trapped in her boarded up home for weeks on end, with little to no outside communication. Honestly, if I had to go through a bloodpocalypse, I probably would’ve snapped after a few hours indoors and gone blood hydroplaning (hemiaplaning?) in a stolen car while throwing human skulls at pedestrians. And that’s speaking as someone who willingly goes for days without human contact, I can’t imagine what a non-homebody extrovert would go through. So kudos to Lea for keeping it together as long as she did! If you’re probably going to die anyway, it’s better to die among friends and go out with a bang.

A close up of me driving a car through blood while leaning out the window. I’m holding a human skull out the window while waves of blood are being splashed up by the car. I’m dressed like one of the War Boys from Mad Max: Fury Road, with corpse pain covering my face. I gleefully shout “Oh what a day… What a lovely day!”

I showed this drawing to my wife, and now I’m not allowed to drive her car.

While I really enjoyed Bleeding Earth, it did have some problems that got to me, and kept me from giving it the full five stars. Like Lea’s dad. He learns that the mom has become unhinged, and Lea fears for their safety, but instead of going to help his wife and child, he tells his frightened daughter to get her unstable mom, slip through the looters and people willing to kill for water, and come to him. So of course a ton of horrible things happen because Lea can’t get her sick mother to leave the house, and her dad is apparently too lazy to drive the 40 minutes to help her. Like, I get they need everyone they can get to keep the power going, but for fuck’s sake man, you can take an hour to go rescue your wife and daughter. He’s just so frustratingly blasé about the whole thing. And then there were a bunch of weird little plot points that didn’t go anywhere. Like Lea’s hallucinations. Ingesting the blood is discovered to cause hallucinations, night terrors, lost time, and mental breaks. Lea starts to have horrible nightmares, imagining blood in the house, but it’s unclear if it’s an effect from the blood or the isolation. While she does spend part of the book questioning her sanity, and it’s definitely stressful and unsettling, it doesn’t really go anywhere. Was she infected by the blood? Yeah, we never get an answer for that one either.

A frightened teen is on the phone with her dad. “Hey, dad? Looters keep trying to get in the house, I haven’t seen the sun in over a week, and I think mom’s gone off the deep end and she’s possibly planning to kill someone. Could you come get us?” Her dad is seen doing Sudoku in his office and tells her “That’s nice honey, but I’m just swamped at work right now, can I call you back later? Tell your mom I said “Hi”. “Dad are you even listening!? Screw your work and get your ass back here!”

Hey, Sudoku IS work!

The lack of explanations will be a major turn off for a lot of readers, and I can understand that. But honestly, I didn’t feel like it was needed, because that really isn’t the point of the story. This isn’t a sci-fi novel with an omniscient narrator about a world-wide disaster. This is Lea’s story. It’s about her fears, her loneliness, her confusion, and her crush on Aracely. She’s terrified and frustrated because she doesn’t know what will happen, her parents can’t reassure her, and she just wants to be able to take comfort in something. It’s a sweet, sad story of survival, isolation, and just trying to enjoy a simple teen crush in a world that’s gone to hell.

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