Amp Squad and the Taking On of Labels

Over the past ten years, I’ve accumulated a few LGBTQIA labels - Asexual, Aromantic, Agender… I remember a time when the A stood for ‘ally,’ and I still encounter arguments on the internet about it meaning any and all of my labels. In more recent language, the list stops at Q… which used to stand for ‘questioning,’ but is now generally listed as ‘queer.’ According to some, ‘queer’ being an umbrella term for nonbinary and gender-queer identities, but depending who you talk to, the umbrella could be even bigger. There really can’t be one list that defines all sexual/gender identities because there are so many, and while some might try to use LGBTQIA+ and queer as synonyms, not everyone is comfortable with the queer label.

On the one hand, it’s just easier to say that I’m queer than to explain my assorted labels. It’s easier to say that I’m a queer sci-fi writer and that I write queer characters. Although the word was one used as a slur, language evolves, and (some) modern Pride movements have reclaimed the word, and use it as a positive affirmation. I’m part of a Queer Sci-fi community, and have grown accustomed to calling myself a queer sci-fi author who writes queer characters. Also, given how much in the minority my particular identities are, sometimes it’s just easier to say queer. It simplifies the conversation.

Last year, I wrote about my journey to accepting the trans label, because technically agender falls under trans, whether I feel trans or not. And the thing about labels is that they are personal. You don’t have to accept a label just because someone else thinks you fit in that box. (I wrote a screenplay about this a few years ago.) Part of being queer is realizing the labels you were born with (or the ones assumed to be default) aren’t the right ones for you.

Which brings me to Amp Squad. I debated with myself over whether to use this title, because in Ship Whisperer, the Amps didn’t like being called ‘Amp.’ Tabitha would use it for herself, but respected that others like her were more sensitive about the label, which was shorthand for “amputee.” Three of the five amputees did not advertise their missing limbs, and in the story, I deliberately did not address which limb(s) they were missing.

In Amp Squad, I develop a new terminology for those with super powers: Amplified Power Individuals. The characters appreciate the API terminology, because it shifts the focus from their missing limbs to their growing powers. It also gives the term ‘Amp’ an alternate meaning that they can latch onto with pride. The reclaiming of the word is a slow process, explored internally by the team as they test the label. The bigger battle for them it reminding the military that APIs are not soldiers. They are civilians… except for the main character, Tabitha, whose loyalty to the military is constantly challenged by their treatment of the APIs.

Labels are tools. They are a shorthand to describe something complex with a single word. But words have power — to unite, to divide. Take your word power, and use it for good.

***

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY OF AMP SQUAD TODAY!

 

Nothing to Prove - From Apathy to Agender

 Last year, I released a book called The Qinali Virus, featuring an asexual aromantic character, because I wanted to see people like me represented in fiction. In this future society, gender isn’t assumed or assigned at birth. Children use neutral pronouns unless they express a desire to be otherwise. In one of the scenes, my main character Amber says she wishes she’d kept her neutral pronouns. It’s a passing thought for her, but this character was very much a reflection of me and I started looking at my own relationship with my gender.

I’ve been “cis-apathetic” for much of my life. I never felt like a girl, but I also knew for sure I wasn’t a boy. The nuance of nonbinary identity wasn’t part of my vocabulary, so apathy set in. I dissociated from my body. I remember feeling very out of place as a woman in science, because ‘woman’ wasn’t part of my identity. It was just a happenstance.

 

After writing The Qinali Virus, I figured out I was agender. I was very insistent on that label, because other labels seemed to imply the existence of gender, and I have none. It took time to accept that “not cisgender” means trans, because I didn’t feel trans either. I think it’s partly because society trains us to think and recognize trans along a binary. If you’re not girl, you must transition to boy. So it’s very confusing for the nonbinary, genderqueer, gender fluid, agender, and everyone else whose resting point is not on the binary or even on the so-called spectrum. I also felt that if I were going to be trans, then I had to do something to prove it, like change my name and pronouns. 

 

Which brings me to Ship Whisperer – the story of a nonbinary explorer who discovers she has the ability to talk to spaceships. It’s mentioned a few times that she is nonbinary, and early beta-readers even commented that it was easy to forget, because she’s not using neutral pronouns. But you know what? That’s just fine. She doesn’t have to change her pronouns to prove she fits the category. The phases she went through to find her pronouns aren’t part of this book, but she found them.

 

I’m not a woman. I often think of changing my name and my pronouns, but whether I do or not, it won’t prove or disprove my trans-ness. I’m agender, and saying it is enough.

Ship Whisperer comes out October 14! Pre-order now!

Finding my truth in writing my own voice

By the time I set out to write The Qinali Virus, I had been an out and proud aromantic/ asexual for many years. I debated whether I wanted to write a character who was too much like me. But since there are so few people like me in the books I read, I went for it. People shouldn’t have to choose between a handful of books for representation. There should be so many that people can actually choose their favorite and feel safe to dislike some without derailing the genre.

The Qinali Virus features an aromantic asexual astronomer who learns she has the ability to astral project. Amber grew up in a utopic society, and one of the features is that gender identities are not thrust on young children. People get to choose.

The notion to use gender-neutral pronouns in the story came from a podcast I listened to, where I heard the salutation “Mx.” used for the first time. Mx. is the gender-neutral form of Mr./Mrs./Ms. I am sound oriented. I have seen Mx. used in writing in various queer safe spaces on the internet, but hearing turned it into something real for me. I have a PhD, but being called Doctor Mikles never did anything for me. I know other people feel euphoric about the achievement when they hear it. I’ve read that when some women get married and they hear themselves called Mrs. Husband’s Name, they get euphoric. In my case, Mx. is the salutation that stirs emotion. It makes me happy to hear it spoken out loud. And so I decided all the adults in the story would use it by default. 

It wasn’t until I finished my first draft and started editing that I realized Amber might be agender. There’s a discussion about how people choose pronouns in her world, and she mentions that she wished she’d stayed neutral. Her realization, and the fact that she’s very much a picture of me, helped me realize that I am agender. Over the years, I had started to assume that my lack of attachment to my gender was related to my asexuality, but in the last year, I’ve started being able to acknowledge it as a separate, but important part of my identity. 

While this book was intended to be a stand-alone, I've started percolating ideas for a sequel, and in it, I hope to explore more of Amber's desire to shed her gender.