Children’s Book About Gender Dysphoria Accidentally Makes the Opposite Point it Meant To

Here’s the thing about bad ideas: you can only make bad arguments in their favor. 

Sometimes they’re obvious, but not always; good bad arguments are insidious and deceptive, almost identical to good arguments. But the very best of the bad arguments are misapplied good arguments. 

Take, for example, Me and My Dysphoria Monster. I came across some illustrations from this book on Twitter.

And it struck me as familiar. A lot of you might also recognize the theme; externalizing an internal struggle as a formless tormentor is hardly groundbreaking. We could go all the way back to Fuseli’s The Nightmare if we really wanted, but there’s no real need to travel so far: countless webcomics have characterized depression, anxiety, and good ol’ adult life in much the same way as the dysphoria monster.

I want to draw your attention to two artists in particular, because I like the messages and they make my point. 

Let’s look at the similarities: the personification of a mental condition as a monster. Impacts from the outside world on the protagonist/monster relationship. Distress. Dare I say, despair. 

Now let’s look at the difference.

In Just Peachy’s comic, the size and strength of her depression is dependent on how she treats it. The more she looks after herself, the smaller and more manageable it becomes.

In the piece by Nick Seluk and Sarah Flanigan, the looming specters of depression and anxiety face a battle from the protagonist. 

(On a side note, what I really like about both of these comics is that they’re not about utterly vanquishing a foe; their mental illnesses don’t go away forever, nor is the goal to destroy it. It’s a much more realistic understanding of depression and anxiety, not as something to be killed, but as something to be managed and lived with.)

But if you read Me and My Dysphoria Monster (which, full disclaimer, I have not because I can’t find it for free and I refuse to pay for it but I read the summary on Wikipedia), the protagonist. . . gives the monster what it wants. By doing transition-y things, the protagonist’s monster shrinks.

Do you see the difference?

I know the answer is probably yes but I’m going to spell it out for you anyway: Two examples are about taking control for yourself over what makes you unwell. One example is about capitulating to the beast to make it go away. You know, the way that giving marshmallows to feral raccoons ensures that they’ll leave you alone. For now.

I’m just gonna let that one simmer.