A dear girlfriend of mine who was born in Nigeria in the late 60’s, first introduced me to the concept of a short-lived country in West Africa called Biafra. Years later I came across Chimamanda when she gave a Ted Talk about the dangers of the single story narrative. I was so impressed by her that I went on to look her up and found that she had written a book about the Biafra war (the same war that brought my friend to The Netherlands). Without giving anything away, I will say that this book is a good introduction to how Eurocentric international politics play with the lives of people from the Global South (in a way similar to Isabel Allende’s The House of The Spirits (1982), and Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1984)).

Whereas Half of a Yellow Sun is a novel set in the Biafra War (1967-1970), Goede Bedoelingen is a real-life account on the lives and stories of ten sick children airlifted from war-thorn Biafra to the safe Netherlands. Schipper was able to track some of the children (now middle-aged adults) down and tell their story. This is a book that is not for anyone expecting a rosy picture of life. It doesn't have the beauty that Half of a Yellow Sun presents in its first half. Nevertheless, I believe this is a book that needs to be read.

Ayn Rand is one of those figures that people either love or tend to hate, mostly because of her views against socialism and communism, and her being keen on individuality. Personally, I think there are aspects of her philosophy that can be rescued. As a trans woman myself, the idea of fighting for my core values to the end is a must (always keeping in mind not to hurt others in the process). Of Rand’s works the ones that get more of a cult status are The Fountainhead (1943) and Atlas Shrugged (1957), with the latter being a bit of a pompous dystopian fantasy if I may say. Her first novel is the one that resonates with me the most and creates a parallel with my own life. In We The Living we not only see the ideological and visible transformation of the Russian Empire into The Soviet Union, but also how these changes affect the lives of the simple citizens. We see how those fighting injustice, become the tyrants they sought to destroy. I think many women and disenfranchised groups around the world can understand Kira (the novel’s protagonist), and the reasons that force her to make drastic decisions. We The Living is a beautiful, albeit dark story. I suggest reading The Master and Margarita (1967) after this one, its comedic tone may help compensate for the seriousness of Rand’s novel.

I first heard of this book in 2018. By then the idea of writing a book about being a trans refugee in The Netherlands was already in my head. And because of it, I refused to read it for so long, I didn’t want Al Galidi’s writing to influence my own thoughts. I finally read it last year, and along with Samier (the main character) I went on a voyage in time. Many of his experiences, dreams and frustrations I could recognize, the asylum process in The Netherlands with its bureaucracy and endless rules can take the soul out of any person, that's for sure. Something that I appreciate about Al Galidi is his irony and sense of humor when describing the complex and – at times – ridiculous and cruel asylum system. Another thing to rescue besides his observations on the asylum system and refugees on Dutch society, in his eyes the Dutch become the object of study and scrutiny (as opposed to them being the ones doing the scrutiny). Another book that explores the same theme of refugees is De Schelp, Memoires van een gevangene (2022) by Mustafa Khalida. Although this book is set in Syria in the 80’s and 90’s, it is very much ad hoc with current issues and helps to better understand why people flee.

I grew up as a brown skinny and effeminate boy in the periphery of an already peripheral country (Mexico). For many years I couldn't reconcile or even begin to understand how belonging and not belonging in a certain context affected me in another. For years, I've been trying to understand how my intersecting identities affected one another, to no avail. In 2020 a dear friend of mine introduced me to Anzaldúa, and at last I found the vocabulary and the voice to understand and express how concepts such as skin color, queerness, religion, nationality, education and dogmatic “masculine and feminine behaviours”, do have an effect on a person’s the state of being. Borderlands – along with the equally powerful and beautiful book Zami: A New Spelling of My Name (1982) by Audre Lorde – has given me a new tool to understand and love my identities. If you want to really understand intersectionality in brown and black bodies, this is a must read.

Speaking of the dangers of the single story narrative, one thing that often pops up in the media about trans people is trans people regretting transitioning and as of lately also the topic of trans people becoming parents. Both are treated in a sensationalistic way and many times used to create a sense of fear, and to perpetuate the idea that trans people are mentally ill. Detransition, Baby is a light-hearted book that deals with these and other topics in a funny and quite nonchalant way. Written by a trans person, and with the trans gaze as its core. The language is modern, and easy to follow even for those outside the LGBTQI+ circles. If after this novel you want to understand trans people even better, I suggest reading Whipping Girl (2007), by gender theorist, biologist and writer Julia Serano, that digs into the social constructs of femininity, masculinity and how they affect trans issues.

While the other books I’ve discussed explore the themes of migration and identity in prose, in a linear and at times straightforward way, with Mythen en Stoplichten we enter the mind of its author, a black trans woman via poetry. Alara takes us along her dreams, experiences and desires as if we are walking on clouds, in a way that makes even sadness or tragedy beautiful to look at. Reading her feels as if one is part of an oracle, in which a high priestess and goddess is giving us the truth of life and the world. The previous books I recommended in this list can be heavy and at times – once you are immersed – suffocating. That is why I put Adilow almost at the end, so that her poems can alleviate the soul, soften your thoughts, and make you fly.

If Mythen en Stoplichten is a poetry dream, then Bad Girls is a prose dream. And what a better way to close a list of books that have touched me and resonate with my own life as a brown trans woman coming from the periphery with a migrant, refugee and sex worker experience. In Bad Girls Sosa Villada leads us to read and feel the life of the average trans woman in Latin America. Although the stories of the destitute trans sex workers she portrays can be cruel at times, she manages to insert a veil of magic realism all over, that allows the reader to feel the immense love for life portrayed and the hope for a better tomorrow, even when that tomorrow is uncertain. In 2020 it received the Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Prize given by the Guadalajara International Book Fair. This novel has been recommended and shared widely within the Latin American trans circles, with the consensus that this is our story and that each of us feel that Sosa Villada is telling it. I think this book can be a good read along with my own book, since both books – albeit from different angles – bring a message of seeking dignity and wanting to live, to live!