The Origin of GenderWild Press

Creating a queer community

For those of you who may not know me, I started my main publication on Substack, TransFriend, with literally zero subscribers a couple years ago. It took me nearly 12 months to get to 100 subscribers, and it was deeply painful for me to watch others around me skyrocketing in their success while I was struggling just to find my people. Every time someone would brag about their subscriber counts in notes I would cringe, then I would internalize it and berate myself for caring about numbers, and then I would create a list of reasons why they were successful and I was not.

Because clearly I was the problem.

Fast forward a little bit, and things improved for me. How? I called out the problem for what it was in two different ways. One, I created SmallStack (which, admittedly, has been a lot of fun). The other, which was impactful in a very different way, was openly calling for a Queer/LGBTQIA2S+ category on Substack for listings like mine.

If you’re not familiar with how these categories work, Substack lets you select two distinct categories in which your publication can be listed and ranked. That ranking system is all about engagement, specifically paid subscriber numbers (not dollar value). My publication is currently listed under “Literature” and “Humor.” There’s no category that is a perfect fit for a guy like me.

When I asked Substack to consider creating a Queer/LGBTQIA2S+ category, I tagged a HUGE number of my friends there. I had the sincere hope that they would all see what I wanted (they did), restack my note for visibility (a bunch did that, too), and lift up my tiny voice so that someone with power could hear me and help change things for all of us.

Right, so that didn’t happen.

I mean, a bunch of people restacked that note and commented on it and tagged people they knew, and it made the rounds. That note, in fact, led a lot of newer subscribers to me by virtue of helping me become more visible.

Yet we still have no category for all of our gorgeous, creative, amazing, thrilling, sensational, stunning, wonderful queer content.

Sure, dude, but why bring it up now?

Sometime last year—when all the projects I wrapped myself up in took on a frenzied pace, when my own writing was forced to take a backseat, when I started making new and better connections with other writers—I realized we were all struggling to be seen.

You see, we—trans and queer writers—do not have sufficient visibility. And the world is working very hard to erase every aspect of who we are and what our lives look like. We have minimal representation in television and film and theater and art and BOOKS, of all things. Even on Substack we have No Category for our work! Yes, there are more and more queer memoirs and novels being released all the time, and Yes, trans and queer voices are easier to find even when we are being “eradicated” from existence, and Yes, most of you can probably name at least two trans people in the media right now. But it is Still. Not. Enough.

Too many of our stories are being told by cis people. Too many of our stories never see the light of day. Too many of our authors can’t get a book deal. Too many of us can’t even get a response from a publisher.

And our whole community is desperate to find books and stories about ourselves.

I sat with this realization, and it dawned on me that I had been blaming myself for the difficulty of publishing my own work here, of being found or seen, of finding my queer and trans community. It was a lightbulb moment for me.

💡Instead of me being the problem, I imagined a future in which I was a solution.💡

And I held onto that dream for a long, long time while it grew.

When national and global politics began to take a very dark turn at the beginning of this year, I worried that my dream would be crushed before it had the chance to breathe. I was heartsick over it. I watched the news and worried about needing to flee the country. I worried about my friends. I worried about my history. I worried about my community.

Of all the times to think about creating a business, this has to be the worst. Right?

But when I think about what matters, about the kind of legacy I want to leave behind, it begins and ends with our stories. My stories are the thing that makes me real. So are yours. Stories are powerful. Why else would conservative groups want to ban and destroy books? When we share our stories, we help others feel less alone. We show them they have family and history, we help them learn about themselves by learning about us, and we create community through language. We inspire others to write their own stories down.

So maybe, just maybe, of all the times to create a business for publishing trans and queer stories, now is precisely the right time to say YES.

Today I’m sharing my dream with all of you because I need your help to make it real.

My next step is to become an independent publisher of books. Real books. The kind you can hold in your hand, the kind you can find yourself in, the kind you can share with a friend, the kind you can see on a library shelf in your hometown. Maybe even the kind with your name as the author.

These books will be written by and for the trans and queer community, for our allies, for our families, and for future generations of trans and queer people.

Our stories deserve to be told.

Our stories deserve to live beyond our lifetimes.

Queer writers should not have to struggle to have our voices heard. And I know that I can make a difference. I am overjoyed (and a skosh terrified) to announce the beginning of GenderWild Press and the start of some really epic storytelling.

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What do I need?

Expertise – If you run or work for a small, independent publishing company (or someone you know does), I would love to get connected with you. Micropress? Even better. I have a lot to learn about this industry, and talking to real people makes a big difference.

Collaborators – If you have skills in publishing, I could really use your help getting this business off the ground. No, I don’t have the ability to pay anyone yet, including myself. Everything that’s happening right now is voluntary. I specifically need people with expertise in cover art, printing, distribution, sales, and creating legal contracts.

Funding – New businesses need capital, which I don’t have. I’ll likely create a crowd-funding page later in the year, but donations to this new press are always welcome! And if you have skill in fundraising, I could really use your help.

Spreading the word – In exactly the same way that this publication was built, word of mouth (or clicks) can make all the difference in my success. Sharing my work with others helps create new connections that spark creativity. Please share this publication, this post, or a note about GenderWild Press to help it find more eyes.

Whew! That’s all I have for now. There have been a lot of dreams and plans just to get to this point, and… hell, I don’t even know if I’m ready to send this post out to you today. But sometimes you have to do the scary things to get to the next fun thing, the next cool thing, and the next important thing. And this is very important to me. Thanks for being in my corner.

Being GenderWild is pretty wild,

Robin