BOOK REVIEW | They Called Me Queer opens lid on lived experiences of members of society often seen from afar

They Called Me Queer, compiled by Kim Windvogel and Kelly-Eve Koopman, left me with so much to think about. I’ve never encountered a book quite like it. I’ve read novels told from dual perspectives, sometimes even three or four voices, but never a compilation that brings together so many unique stories, each deeply personal and powerful. This anthology weaves together multiple voices and short stories from queer, bisexual, and diverse South Africans, each speaking from the depths of their lived experiences.

For me, it wasn’t a difficult book to read in the sense of style or structure, but it was challenging in a deeper way. It was a book that taught me, stretched me, and forced me to sit with perspectives I don’t usually engage with. It became a learning curve, an educational process, and most importantly, a mirror, showing me both what I understood and what I still needed to unlearn.

What stood out to me most was how relatable some of the stories were, even though I don’t personally identify as LGBTQIA+. One story in particular, where a woman recalled growing up as a tomboy, resonated with me. She described how her love for “dressing like a boy” was constantly questioned, and how it affected her sense of identity over time. Reading that, I immediately thought back to my own childhood.

I too was considered a tomboy all the way through high school, and only really grew out of it in university. For her, it sparked years of questioning her sexuality and wondering if there was “something wrong” with her. For me, it was a phase of constant labelling by others. That overlap in experience reminded me that even when we don’t share the exact same journey, there are points of relatability that connect us. That’s what made the book so powerful, its ability to humanize and build empathy.

Beyond relatability, the anthology also sheds light on the painful realities still facing queer people in South Africa. On paper, SA is progressive as one of the few African countries where same-sex marriage is legal. But the lived experiences in these stories reveal something far more complex. They reveal a country still plagued with stigma, stereotypes, discrimination, and even violence. The book challenges the narrative of South Africa as a “rainbow nation” and forces the reader to face the truth: progress in law does not always translate to progress in everyday life.

I too was considered a tomboy all the way through high school, and only really grew out of it in university.

—  Koena Mashaba, reviewer

Reading this book was often uncomfortable, but that discomfort was necessary. The stories challenged my ways of thinking, my assumptions, and even my own past actions. They made me reflect on how culture, religion, and community can either affirm or restrict a person’s identity. Some stories were heart-wrenching and came with trigger warnings — accounts of rejection, abuse, and violence — but they were also deeply transformative. These stories stay with you long after you put the book down. They challenge you not just to feel empathy, but to consider what change in society is still required.

From a technical perspective, the book is well-structured. There are a few minor typos or grammatical slips, but they were easy to overlook given the power of the narratives. I appreciated that each story came with content warnings, preparing the reader for the intensity and emotional weight of what was to follow. The editors did a brilliant job in balancing the diversity of voices while still creating a sense of coherence across the anthology.

This is not just a book for queer readers. It is for anyone who wants to challenge themselves, anyone who wants to understand identity better, and anyone who believes in the promise of equality.

They Called Me Queer is educational, emotional, and deeply impactful. It is a reminder that while progress has been made, there is still a long journey ahead, one that requires all of us.

SowetanLIVE