Maurice Vellekoop is an artist and illustrator based in Toronto. He is the author of I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together: A Memoir.
The cover of the tattered, dog-eared book is holding on for dear life. Its beyond-yellowed pages are falling out, and there is actual mould on the bio page. My copy of Splendora, a deliriously comic 1978 novel by Edward Swift, has been one of my most beloved possessions since the early eighties.
Splendora is about an ethereally beautiful teen who flees his bigoted Texas hometown and finds a refuge in the New Orleans drag scene. Upon inheriting his grandmother’s estate, Timothy John returns, disguised as a mysteriously genteel lady. He takes the town of southern eccentrics by storm and becomes an object of adoration. Eventually the strain of keeping up the alter-ego becomes too much. Timothy John’s attempt to evade his true identity as a gay man fails. He confronts the traumas of his childhood, sheds his feminine persona, and, defying all expectations, finds love with the town’s Baptist assistant pastor in a fiery Technicolor ending!
I identified with the hero completely – constantly misgendered, facing daily taunts and threats. In the 1980s, I was a closeted gay boy struggling mightily with a number of issues. My family belonged to the Christian Reformed Church, a strict, conservative Calvinist sect. The CRC taught me that, as a homosexual, I could only receive God’s grace through total abstinence from gay sex. The alternative: eternal damnation. On top of that, people were often confused about my gender. In high school, something about my mere presence just drove the guys crazy, and not in a good way: I got called “faggot” all day long, every day. The threat of violence was always present.
I thought life would be easier if I were a girl. I dreamt that some day I could beat down the guilt and shame I carried, and find a happy ending, too. This book was a lifeline to a better, imagined future. I carried it with me everywhere, read it again and again and again.
Like so many things that spoke to me as a kid, Splendora was a gift from my adored older sister Ingrid. She was such a huge influence on me – and for a few years, the sole person to whom I was out. A supertalented artist, she knew everything about culture. She took me to see John Waters movies at the Bloor Cinema in downtown Toronto, and gave me books on illustrators like Mel Odom, Antonio Lopez and Edward Gorey, all subversively queer geniuses who shaped my sensibility. (This delight in and reverence for culture both high and low, and its power to sustain, is a central theme of my graphic memoir.)
I was so lucky. That’s why I worry about the challenges facing queer youth in Canada right now as they confront increasing calls for censorship around their sexuality and gender identity, from anti-trans legislation to the intimidation of school staff and librarians. There’s a reason Maya Kobabe’s Gender Queer, a gently instructive guide to gender-questioning youth, is the most banned book in America. Conservative ideologues are in a panic. They recognize the book’s power.
I’m appalled to imagine what my life would have been like without Splendora, or my sister, the inspirational mentor who led me to it. Books, art, culture: They are essential for our mental health, dignity and the fostering of compassionate understanding.
I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together: A Memoir
Excerpt from the book by Maurice Vellekoop
