The first LGBTQ book I read was Heather Has Two Mommies by Lesléa Newman, which I discovered on the shelves of my school library. I remember finishing the story and thinking, Huh. So that’s a thing you can do. It would be years before I realized that I was queer, but even before I knew, that book had carved away a little space in my brain for the person I would become: a glimmering possibility.

I’m one of the first generations to grow up with the chance to stumble on LGBTQ kidlit as a kid. Heather Has Two Mommies was published in 1989, just one year before I was born. LGBTQ young adult novels have only become common in the last 15 years or so, and LGBTQ middle grade books took even longer to enter the mainstream.

If you want to get a sense of the history of LGBTQ children’s literature, the Tarpey-Schwed LGBT Families Children’s Book Special Collection in the Mechanics’ Institute in San Francisco is a great place to start. It’s made up of 200+ LGBTQ children’s books published between 1969 and 2023. Library manager Myles Cooper spoke with me about how the collection got started and how you can access it.

The collection began with Randall Tarpey-Schwed, an antiquarian and a member of the Mechanics’ Institute. He and his husband were looking for books to read with their daughters that represented their family. Then, the collection grew as Tarpey-Schwed prioritized early editions of LGBTQ literature.

Once it reached over 200 titles, Tarpey-Schwed went looking for a home for the collection so that other people could access it. In a public library, the books would be absorbed into the general collection and shelved separately, though, and archives generally don’t accept published books.

That’s where the Mechanics’ Institute came in. Founded in 1854, the Mechanics’ Institute is one of the oldest institutions on the West Coast, predating the public library system. (It’s also home to the “oldest continuously operating chess club in the United States”!) It was uniquely positioned to host the collection—and protect it during this era of anti-LGBTQ book censorship.

By keeping these books together as a collection, researchers can get a sense of the history of LGBTQ children’s literature—and what might come next. You can browse the collection on their website, which includes information about each book and several “ways into the collection,” such as Early Landmarks, Families In Picture Books, Challenges And Public Debate, Small Presses And Publishing Networks, and Translations And Editions.

The oldest picture book in the collection is When Megan Went Away by Jane Severance and illustrated by Tea Schook, which is about a child dealing with the grief of her mother’s partner leaving their lives. It’s an independently published book with illustrations Cooper describes as “beautiful” and “moody,” and it stands out against most other early LGBTQ picture books, which aimed to portray LGBTQ families as stable and uncomplicated.

In these 1980s and 1990s era LGBTQ picture books, Cooper says, adults were the primary audience: often, there was too much text or the text was too complex for very young readers. They were also mostly independently published or self-published. The first LGBTQ picture books were about same-sex parents, and they usually depicted these kinds of families as being a secret, unusual, and something even your teacher might not understand.

In recent years, though, LGBTQ picture books have become more affirming of not just same-sex parents but also LGBTQ kids. They appeal to a broader audience, and there are also more titles that include complexities that weren’t present on the page in previous decades. Cooper points to Granddad’s Pride by Harry Woodgate as one example, which incorporates LGBTQ history into a picture book. Personally, I’ve been loving the rise of intersectional LGBTQ picture books like It’s Pride, Baby! by Allen R. Wells, about a family attending a Black Pride celebration, and My Rainbow by DeShanna Neal and Trinity Neal and illustrated by Art Twink, about an autistic trans girl looking for a hairstyle that is gender-affirming and sensory-friendly.

As for what comes next, Cooper says that he’d like to see more academic study of the history of LGBTQ children’s literature. Most writing about it tends to be responding to the current moment (especially book bans), and scholarship focused on its beginnings could put that into context.

There are still so many “firsts” to go: just this month, the first traditionally published picture book about aromantic and asexual identities—Love Looks Like Lola by Cody Daigle-Orians and illustrated by Siân Coules-Milne—is being released. Many identities under the 2SLGBTQIAA+ umbrella have hardly any representation in kidlit at all, including Two-Spirit, intersex, and agender people. We’ve come a long way in the past 50 years, but that’s only the start.