Look at any syllabus for primary school, secondary school, or university, and count how many of those books are translations and how many are by queer authors or about queer topics. Those who have traditionally held the power within the publishing industry and the literary academy have not always wanted to allow different voices to be heard or studied. Queer texts don’t necessarily get written, published, translated, acquired by libraries/bookstores, or studied in schools. This relates back to the previous point: neither translated texts nor queer texts are generally considered canonical, and therefore they are not thought to be worthy of being more visible. Then there’s the matter of how both translation and LGBTQ topics are not studied enough. Well, does it really matter? Why do I need to know about the translator?” Similarly, I’ve had people say, “I don’t care what folks get up to in their own homes, as long as I don’t have to see it or be told about it.” It’s as though many believe that translation is confined to an office and sexuality or gender identity to a bedroom, and they’d rather not think any more about it. They often don’t want to see the fingerprints of translators in translated works or even to know they’re reading translations, and they don’t want to hear about queer issues or see evidence of queer “lifestyles.” I can’t overstate how many times people have told me they don’t read translations, and when I point out which texts they might have read that are translations, they often reply in an underwhelmed voice, “Oh. (Unless, that is, they’re wearing a T-shirt that proclaims “I’m a Queer Translator,” and now that I think of it, I’d like to get one of those.)įurthermore, many people would like us to stay invisible. You can’t tell just from looking at someone that they’re a translator or that they’re lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or otherwise queer (LGBTQ). Translators and queers have a lot in common.įor one thing, we’re both invisible.

Dance on My Grave by Aidan Chambers