Trans cartoonist Morgan Boecher’s “tenderhearted” graphic novel debut, Chicken Heart (Street Noise, out now), offers a “moving treatise on the many meanings of love and loss,” per PW’s review. The story follows a pre-transition standup comedian, Jackie, to a queer commune founded by his trans aunt Sheila, who recently died by suicide. Suddenly forced to confront painful family memories and grapple with his own grief, Jackie attempts to joke his way through the trip—but eventually, he has to face who he is and what he wants. PW talked with Boecher about humor, resilience, and the vulnerability of putting fears on the page.
How does standup comedy work as a tool for transformation in Chicken Heart?
The book opens with Jackie giving a standup set where he’s in denial about who he is as a trans person, and he uses comedy to create distance from himself. We also see Jackie's inner thoughts through a secret standup set in his head—that was a way into his inner truth. Throughout the book, his self-deprecating jokes are a clumsy way to try to fit in. Eventually, he finds a way to use comedy to connect with people and be honest about who he is. Comedy is really interesting to me because it’s capable of creating distance or bringing you closer to others.
What is the role of absurdity in a story about personal identity?
It’s an important to reminder not to take ourselves too seriously, because personal identity is weighty and precious and loaded. It’s connected to our raw selves and our self-worth and all of these complicated, hairy things. Having a sense of humor about it breeds resilience. My identity as a trans person is often attacked and devalued. Being able to connect with other people through humor gives me power and reassurance that I’m not alone. I can laugh along with this absurd human experience. Laughter is one of the quickest ways to find common ground.
You had a webcomic called What’s Normal Anyways—what’s different drawing a graphic novel?
It was more like going into a cave. And, I'm a big extrovert. I would still emerge and connect with other writers and friends, but it was totally different from having it out in public every week. Also, I had to learn more about story structure and composition—I took screenwriting classes, I joined a writer's group, and it took over 10 years.
Does the narrative in Chicken Heart pull from your personal life?
Less so plot wise, but I definitely relate to all of the fears in the book. Can I have the love that I want as a trans person? Can I find community and home? Is tragedy inevitable? Coming out really changed my life trajectory and self-image, and it has taken me years to adapt. But I've also learned how lovable and resilient I am. The commune is also based on a real place in Brunswick, Georgia that I would visit. It's called Hostile in the Forest, and they're very environmentally-sustainability-oriented and built for cooperative living. And it reminded me of queer community building and how we invent and innovate.
What do you hope readers take away from the book?
I wrote Chicken Heart because I wanted a story with happy outcomes for trans people while also being honest about the anxiety and pain and loss that can come with the territory of transition. I also wanted to see a story about a pre-transition trans person, because that space was full of drama for me. I was most vulnerable when I was furthest from my ideal gender expression. Seeing that can be helpful for people who might personally relate, but also for people who aren’t queer or trans. Everybody has a vulnerable side.
