Book 860: Obie is Man Enough – Schuyler Bailar

When I saw this on NetGalley I knew I was going to request it.* I remember the news stories of Bailar joining the Harvard University swim team and being the first trans athlete to compete on any NCAA D1 Men’s team and when I saw he wrote this I knew I wanted to read it.

The bulk of my LGBT reading is either MM Romance of some sort or nonfiction history/politics. There are a few Sapphic romances and a few with trans characters mixed in, but for the most part it’s not very diverse when it comes to reading the entire rainbow so I was super happy when the publisher approved my request!

This book was so well written, I can’t get over it.  I mean I wasn’t expecting a bad book from a Harvard educated individual or from one of the big publishers, but everything worked. The characters were relatable and some of them grew while others didn’t, the setting (once I figured out it was actually in Boston) was perfect and there were details you’d only know if you’d lived in Boston, and the ending wasn’t the picture perfect happily ever after movie ending you might expect, but it was real.

And I did not know how to make kimchi. I lived next to MIT—I showed you building before, remember?’ I not. Every time we go to H Mart, Dad points out Harabuhji’s old apartment. Or I guess where it used to be. It used to be diagonal, across the street. Now it’s a Target. (Chapter 13)

I mean sure you could Google Maps this, but I caught the bus and T from Central every day for a couple of years and I immediately knew where Bailar was talking about and could viscerally see it coming out of H Mart.

The way Bailar wrote about swimming in this fictional work reminded me a lot of how Murakami wrote about running in his nonfiction work What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. There was something so lyrical and beauty in the solitariness and quietude that came across in the various passages whether it was Obie swimming laps or during a noisy swim meet.

Sometimes I wonder why I’ve always felt safe in the pool, so exposed in my swim suit, despite all the difficulty I’ve had with my body. But this—this feeling I have in the water—this is why. When I swim, the only parts of my body I can see are my hands—and that’s usually only out of my peripheral vision and only if I’m watching for them. Ninety-nine percent of the time when I’m swimming, I’m just swimming. I am the act of swimming itself, and that’s it. I get to disappear into the movements, the water, the feelings. I don’t have to be a body or a gender. I can just swim. (Chapter 16)

And connecting it directly to Obie’s experience being trans and swimming to not having a body and just being part of the water removing the stressors of those around him was so beautifully written. I read the passage that included the above a couple of times to let it sink in.

The other connection that really brought the story home for me was Obie’s relationship with his Halmoni (grandmother) and the Korean half of his family. There were so many moments where Obie wasn’t sure what would happen and just had to trust that his family would be with him and support him. And they did, which as Bailar says in the afterward was a conscious choice. This fed into and contributed to one of the major themes of the novel around what is a man and masculinity. Obie found himself sometimes falling into “female” roles and worried that it was because his grandmother still saw him as a girl, but when really, she saw him as the youngest and he was going to have to do some things regardless of his gender because that was her cultue.

In all this time of repeating Bolton’s words in my head, I realize that I have never once asked what being ‘man enough’ means. If someone is a man, aren’t they just that—a man? And then it hits me: There is no man enough. There is just being a man. And winning has nothing to do with my manhood. (Chapter 33)

Obie’s relationship with his peers was more complex and varied. I won’t go into those relationships because those are so core to the story and I think talking about them would lessen the experience as you read them. None of what happened was surprising and I’m glad at least one character decided to change, the other one can go suck an egg. I still cannot decide if I liked the outcome with Obie’s original coach, that the book opens with, but I did like that Obie stood up for himself and ended the final conversation on his terms.

If there is one thing I want to know that wasn’t answered in the book, but also wasn’t owed to me or to anyone, is why in the world Obie chose “Zechariah-Obadiah” as their name. If it was in the book it’s a big thing for me to have missed, if it wasn’t in the book (maybe in the year that Obie refers to darkly a few times) like I said even if it’s not no one owes you the story of their name. It’s more just curiosity about such an old timey name on such a young person ¯(ツ)/¯

If there was one thing I wish was different in the book, it’s that I wish the letters at the end of the book from Bailar to his cisgender and transgender readers were at the beginning. I understand why they didn’t do this, because they spoil the story, but I think they could be pretty powerful in introducing the book too! In particular, these two notes to cisgender readers would’ve been powerful going into the book, especially the latter:

So many trans kids do not have what Obie has. So many parents are not as supportive, loving, and affirming, so many parents do not allow or have access to gender-affirming doctors, so many coaches are not supportive like Coach Larkin, and so on. I wrote this support and kindness for Obie because I wanted no barriers for you to understand Obie—and I wanted to prove the possibility and provide examples of this kind of love and acceptance is absolutely possible. (Author’s note: ‘For my cisgender (not transgender) readers—’)

Obie would be no less valid if he were gay, no less valid if he were nonbinary or presented in an ambiguous way. Obie would be no less of a boy if he didn’t wear traditional boys’ clothes or wasn’t an athlete. Obie would be no less trans or a boy if he didn’t want to take testosterone or couldn’t. (Author’s note: ‘For my cisgender (not transgender) readers—’)

Other than that, I thought the story was perfect. From Obie’s intersectionality and his being trans only being one facet of his identity to the relationships he builds and loses after coming out as trans all combine to make him the best man he can be. Seriously, the essay that Obie writes had me full on sobbing.

Recommendation: 100% worth the read. I can’t get over how beautiful the story and the prose were. I flew through the book and there were definitely a couple of times I had to re-read passages because my eyes were too teary to take it all in or because they were so beautifully written that I needed to luxuriate in the passage for a bit longer. I’m so happy and hopeful for this next generation of LGBT youth that (should) have access to books like Bailar’s to see what it can and should be like to be open and accepted. Ugh, there was so much I could’ve written about and I don’t feel I did it justice, just go read the book.

*I received a copy of Obie is Man Enough from the publisher via NetGalley in return for my honest opinion. No goods or money were exchanged.

Opening Line: “‘You’re never going to be a real man, Sarah,’ Coach Bolton says, using my old name.”

Closing Line: “In all of my intersectionality, I am still here. Alive. And Korean. Alive. And white. Alive. And an athlete. Alive. And transgender. And alive.” (Whited out to avoid spoilers, highlight to read.)

Additional Quotes from Obie is Man Enough
“There’s something unique about spending twenty hours a week training like we do. In a way, we’re alone, each in our own underwater bubbles, but we’re alone together.” (Before)

“I think a lot of people don’t understand how painful it is to be called a name that doesn’t fit. Some people even think it’s okay to call me Sarah when they’re talking about me in the past. But it’s not okay. It’s just as painful. I only ever want to be called Obie.” (Before)

“That was the first time I’d seen Dad cry. I’d known he was nervous because, aside from marrying a white woman, he’d never done anything to disappoint Halmoni. He was your Korean tiger mom’s dream son. He’d gotten straight As, gone to Princeton, graduated at the top of his class, gone to Harvard’s MD/PhD program (because I guess just med school wasn’t enough for him), and become a doctor. And not just any doctor. A pediatric gastroenterologist. Now he mostly just teaches at Harvard Medical School and does some emergency consultations every now and then.” (Chapter 7)