The Importance of Messy, Layered Representation and Marginalized Readers Feeling Seen, a guest post by Sydney Langford

Before I was a Deaf, queer, and Disabled author, I was a Deaf, queer, and Disabled reader. For years after traumatically and unexpectedly becoming Deaf at 14, my only solace was found in stories—I’d get lost in books, focusing on fiction in an act of desperate self-preservation as I grappled with my new reality. But the more I read, the less I felt represented. I craved stories highlighting diverse characters; stories that showed the messiness and chaos that comes with not only being a teen, but being a disabled, queer teen.

Book after book I read highlighted allocishet, able-bodied main characters. On the rare occasion my local library had a book with disability rep, it’d be a poorly researched depiction from an abled author or written with an inspiring or tragic angle. That all changed the day I picked up This is Kind of an Epic Love Story by Kacen Callender, a YA romance between two boys—one Hearing, and one Deaf, who used a combination of ASL and voicing to communicate. I’ll never forget how feeling seen by a book felt—a rush of excitement and a deep sense of comfort.

I spent hours chasing that feeling, scouring the internet, bookstores, and libraries for a similar book. A book—that after years of trying to relate to abled, allocishet main characters—I could finally see myself in. While I found some amazing books showcasing Disabled pride and/or queer romance, I wanted more. I wanted to see stories that explored the ugly side of being a marginalized teen, the complex equilibrium that exists between Disabled joy and grief, the unbreakable platonic bonds between queer characters, the internalized ableism that can be so hard to untangle. So, in 2020, when I was 17, I went down a path I never expected: I wrote a book that touches on those exact themes.

Now, if you had told 17-year-old me that, four years later, that book would become my debut novel, I wouldn’t have believed you. My debut novel, The Loudest Silence, was born from my desire to recreate that feeling of being seen for marginalized readers. If I could help just one person feel a little less alone, or feel represented by my words and sharing my experiences through a fictional lens, I would accomplish that goal. But The Loudest Silence was as cathartic as it was difficult to bring to life. The main characters—Casey, a 16-year-old aspiring singer who grapples with sudden hearing loss; and Hayden, a soccer captain with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and a secret love for showtunes—are pieces of myself split up and redesigned. My lifelong struggle with GAD and the mourning period I experienced after my hearing loss were crucial for me to represent, but writing something heavily modeled after my lived experiences, tapping into my own emotions and trauma, felt like an exposed nerve. But I wanted to use my voice to empower, comfort, and open doors. I think of it as providing a window into a Disabled perspective for able-bodied people, and a mirror for disabled people to see themselves on page.

Even at only 17, I knew I had written something important. I knew I had to get this book onto shelves and in the hands of the readers who needed it most—as desperately as I needed it when I first lost my hearing. However, initially, the publishing industry disagreed. Some publishers and literary agents wanted the book to skew more toward escapism and lean into the humorous elements—leaving behind the grief and upheaval, the realistic explorations of messy, complicated emotions. On the other hand, some wanted to lean even further into the “doom and gloom,” and even suggested cutting comedic-relief side characters and lighter hearted moments in favor of exploring anxiety and hearing loss arcs.

But I wasn’t going to erase any hint of effervescence my two main characters experience, and I wasn’t going to publish a romanticized version of events. Casey deserves to be angry, sad, and acerbic. She lost her hearing! She should be allowed to break down and openly weather the brutal ups and downs that come with recently acquired disabilities, but she also deserves to have solace in music and find joy in unexpected places. And Hayden deserves to be frazzled, anxious, and jumpy. He’s desperately trying to balance an anxiety disorder with his soccer captaincy and a hidden affinity for Broadway. It’s understandable why he would be tense and skittish, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to enjoy performing self-taught tap routines or be a supportive, reliable friend.

I’ve spent four long years fighting for The Loudest Silence, fighting for marginalized readers and authors everywhere. Because the thing is… the light and the dark coexist. Marginalized people have a kaleidoscope of colors. There are dark, lonely moments; bright, shining moments; and an often-unspoken grey area. Sometimes our emotions and experiences are a muddy, jumbled mess.

I fought for those themes because marginalized readers like me—like the lost 14-year-old version of me—will resonate with the grey. The messiness. The exploration of the beautiful spectrum we exist within. Now, thanks to the superstar booksellers and librarians out there, this book has the opportunity to showcase the good, the ugly, and the confusing grey to the world. I am extremely and forever grateful for all of the support on my mission for The Loudest Silence to find its way to those who need it most.

Meet the author

Sydney Langford (they/them) is a queer, Deaf-Hard of Hearing, and physically disabled author who resides in Portland, Oregon. Their biggest passion in life is creating stories that reflect the diverse world we live in—whether that be rom-coms about quirky, disabled teens; or contemporaries that feature queer joy. Their debut YA novel, THE LOUDEST SILENCE, will be released 7/30/2024 by Holiday House. You can follow them online at @slangwrites or visit their website at www.slangwrites.com.

About The Loudest Silence

Two disabled queer teens find belonging in this poignant platonic love story about singing, signing, and solidarity.

Casey Kowalski once dreamed of becoming a professional singer. Then the universe threw her a life-altering curveball—sudden, permanent, and profound hearing loss—just before her family’s move from Portland to Miami. Now, she’s learning to navigate the world as a Deaf-Hard of Hearing person while trying to conceal her hearing loss from her new schoolmates.

Hayden González-Rossi is also keeping secrets. Three generations of González men have risen to stardom on the soccer field, and Hayden knows his family expects him to follow in their footsteps, but he wants to quit soccer and pursue a career on Broadway. If only his Generalized Anxiety Disorder didn’t send him into a debilitating spiral over the thought of telling the truth.

Casey and Hayden are both determined to hide who they really are. But when they cross paths at school, they bond over their shared love of music and their mutual feeling that they don’t belong, and the secrets come spilling out. Their friendship is the beating heart of this dual-perspective story featuring thoughtful disability representation, nuanced queer identities, and a lovably quirky supporting cast.

ISBN-13: 9780823456246
Publisher: Holiday House
Publication date: 07/30/2024
Age Range: 14 – 17 Years

Filed under: Guest Post