Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 32

I’m at NCTE!

It was 80 degrees in Atlanta today, but it was nice and cool inside the World Congress Center. I’m proud of myself for doing better on this last road trip of the year; so far I’ve gotten my steps in by walking instead of taking a cab, I just had a huge salad for dinner (with only a small slice of cake and ONE slice of pizza), I had fresh fruit for lunch, and I managed to get some writing done while waiting for a friend at a cafe. I’ve met some incredible educators and reconnected with old friends…and now I’m holed up in the hotel hoping to finish two or three chapters of The Ghosts in the Castle.

Tomorrow I’ll be with Prof. Dixie Keyes, author Crystal Allen, and educator Corey Oliver for our 8am panel “Everyone Has a Story: Authors Advocating for Student Writing” (Room A402). I brought a few Rosetta Press books to sell and then at 10am I head over to Publisher Spotlight’s booth (434) to sign copies of Melena’s Jubilee. Then it’s lunch with friends and off to the airport. I’d really like to see Gregory Christie’s store at the Decatur Mall…he’s signing at 11am, so I’ll get to see him in the exhibit hall—and you will, too, if you stop by!

Okay, back to writing…

museums and mirrors

I have been obsessed with ancient Egypt since I was a child. When the treasures of Tutankhamun’s tomb toured Canada in 1979, my big sister’s class went to the museum but mine did not. I coveted the replica artifacts she brought home from the gift shop, and devoured all the books in our library that had anything to do with pharaohs and pyramids. In high school I took a course on Ancient History and pulled my first all-nighter putting the finishing touches on my art project about Egyptian burial rituals. But by college, my interest in history had shifted to the medieval period and I traded pyramids in Egypt for castles in England.

It wasn’t until I moved to Brooklyn after graduation that I began to consider the significance of my childhood fascination with ancient Egypt. Despite Hollywood’s attempts to whitewash both rulers and gods, I always knew that ancient Egyptians were people of color—all the artifacts I had ever seen confirmed that they were brown-skinned, full-lipped, wide-hipped, and black-haired. I saw myself in the scenes painted on tomb walls, but I was a young adult before I realized that Egypt was part of Africa. I never learned about Nubia or the Kushites or the Pharaoh Taharqa when I was a child, and only discovered the Senegalese scholar Cheik Anta Diop in graduate school. Diop refuted the claim of generations of European and American historians that the ancient Egyptians were White and more Mediterranean than African. I was at NYU to be trained as a scholar, but those years ultimately confirmed my calling as a storyteller. I began writing for children with a commitment to creating “mirror books” that put kids of color and their cultures at the center of the story.

Twenty years have passed and I now have over twenty titles for young readers. You likely won’t find them in local bookstores, but last weekend I almost sold out of books at the Brooklyn Museum’s Tenth Annual Children’s Book Fair. This was my fifth year participating in the event, and as I sat behind my table in the bustling glass pavilion, I remembered the first time I saw the Brooklyn Museum. The entrance was under construction but the scaffolding was cleverly concealed by a painting of the kohl-lined eyes of an Egyptian sarcophagus. As we drove along Eastern Parkway I marveled at the museum and made a mental note: “That’s for me.”

Children do the same thing when they discover a “mirror book,” and it’s incredibly gratifying to see Black children’s eyes light up when they see themselves represented on the covers of my books. At the book fair I was struck by the number of Black parents who wanted me to take a photo with their child—one mother even handed me her baby! Clearly it means a lot to these parents that their children can see a Black author and know that making books is an option for them, too. I’m proud to be a mirror in that sense—I hope kids do look at me and see what’s possible for themselves.

When editors rejected my latest picture book Milo’s Museum as “too didactic,” I chose to publish it myself. It was inspired by The Colored Girls Museum in Philadelphia and the new Smithsonian Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, DC—two institutions founded by Blacks to tell the many stories that are missing from “the official record.” I wanted kids to understand a curator’s role in deciding what belongs inside a museum, and I included a “how to” guide at the back of the book so that kids can think about the objects that tell their own family’s story.

Bullying and bigotry are the example set by the country’s president-elect, and I’d argue that it’s a good time for White America to take a good long look in the mirror. Though it may seem innocuous, children’s literature has an important role to play in shaping this nation’s youth. “Mirror books” can bolster the self-esteem of our most vulnerable kids and teen, and more “window books” can teach empathy and kindness, which might help to break down the barriers that threaten to divide us.

Protected: museums and mirrors

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

it’s time to tell the truth

A group of concerned kid lit authors and illustrators signed their names to a letter posted over at The Brown Bookshelf this morning. The letter first came to my attention in late September; author and BBS blogger Kelly Starling Lyons explained that it was written “to collectively express our outrage at the systemic racism and brutality that’s devastating our kids and affirm our commitment to standing with them and for them.”

That’s a noble objective and so I agreed to become a signatory but asked whether the letter could be revised to acknowledge the role of publishing gatekeepers (who today are overwhelmingly straight, White cis-gender women without disabilities). It didn’t make sense, I felt, merely to affirm our desire to provide inspiring, inclusive books without pointing out the racial disparities resulting from dominance within the industry by one particular group.

Since the letter was already circulating, however, I was told that changes couldn’t be made. After the election last week, the letter (which had not yet found an online home—I wonder why?) was revised and sent to me once more; I agreed to sign on but again asked if we could add a section imploring publishing professionals to match our intent with equal opportunity.

This would be an opportune moment to welcome agents, editors, and other publishing professionals to JOIN US and open the door wider so that the industry finally, truly reflects our society. Can we please add a line asking for partnership because we can’t get these stories out on our own…and the current climate is due, in part, to the lack of diversity [in publishing] over the past century.“

Once again, it was too late to change the letter and so I’m writing this “amendment” to register my concerns.

The letter states, “The stakes are too high for us to be silent.” I couldn’t agree more. 

Many of us have always known that the lack of inclusive kid lit can have life or death consequences for young people, but our pleas have largely fallen on deaf ears. There has been no accountability, no apology.

Now is the time to tell the truth, and the truth is that White women have some explaining to do.

The president-elect is a bigot and a bully whose example has emboldened people—including teens and young adults—to insult, menace, and assault members of racial, sexual, and religious minorities. To some, it was a shock to learn that White women helped put Trump in the White House, but many of us were not surprised at all. Women of color in particular know that solidarity with White women is not—and never has been—automatic, especially when it comes to voting. This article sums it up perfectly: “American women voted overwhelmingly for Clinton, except the white ones.”

I signed the BBS letter because I share the view that #booksfighthate. But it needs to be said that we would have more tools at our disposal if publishing’s gatekeepers truly believed in and worked to achieve equity (and not just diversity). Wear a safety pin if you want, but know that some of us expect much, much more.

A letter cannot stem the tide of hate that Trump’s election has unleashed. Symbolic gestures have their place, but what we need now is for White women to collectively refuse to uphold the systems that perpetuate injustice–and that includes the publishing industry.

wonder brain, activate!

I don’t have a superhero twin but I think I do have another self that responds to trauma by becoming more creative. When Hurricane Katrina hit Louisiana, I was in Baton Rouge—new to the city, new to the South, unsure I would be able to fit in at my new job at LSU. Then the campus became home to hundreds of displaced residents and students from New Orleans, and I just switched into a different mode. I turned CNN off, volunteered at the football stadium where folks were being housed, and when that wore me out, I came home, turned on the computer, and started organizing my writing. I sent out a dozen manuscripts and went on to win the honor award in Lee & Low’s New Voices contest. I submitted to MFA programs and got accepted at Hollins University. I applied to all kinds of jobs and was offered a three-year gig at Mount Holyoke College. I was desperate—I needed to feel like I could control something in my life, so I cast a wide net. And the same is happening right now. Despite the depressing outcome of the election, I’m having a really good week. On Tuesday I actually woke up thinking about The Return and what it might look like if I changed the trim size and made a hybrid novel/graphic novel; today I got some recommendations and reached out to several Black women illustrators to get a few quotes. On Wednesday, after talking to the editor who’s interested in Dragons in Bag, we accepted her (improved) offer; the book won’t be out until 2018, which is frustrating, but that lit a fire under me and I got back to work on The Ghosts in the Castle. I reached out to an illustrator in England and if she’s available, I should be able to publish that City Kids book in time for the holidays. Illustrator friend Greg Christie urged me to contact a professor he knew at Georgia State University; she has invited me to present for her colleagues while I’m in Atlanta for NCTE next week, and I might go back next fall to give a talk on diversity and social justice. On Thursday I walked all over Brooklyn putting together a gift for a friend who hasn’t yet taken time to celebrate a major achievement in her life. I also got some chocolates for my agent since she’s made two sales in six months (and here I was thinking she might want to cut me loose). On Monday I sent out digital copies of Milo’s Museum and got some wonderful responses. Today the printed proofs arrived and despite a few qualms, I think I’m going to hit PUBLISH so the book is available to everyone.

I talked to two different neighbors today about the election; I think the shock and grief are starting to dissipate. We’re ready to act. We’re not going to surrender. This photo from a recent NY Times article gives me hope–it was taken by Elaine He at last year’s Brooklyn Museum Children’s Book Fair. If I remember correctly, this boy’s grandmother brought him by my table twice. Many White parents steer their kids past my table (a way of saying without saying, “Those books aren’t for you”), but this woman encouraged her grandson to take a look and they ultimately bought both City Kids books. I wish I had The Ghosts in the Castle to share with young readers at tomorrow’s book fair but at least I can tell kids it’s on its way…

I’ve definitely had moments of rage and disgust this week, but there’s no time for despair. Our kids are counting on us to fix this…

share love

I made myself go for a run this morning. My eyes didn’t quite want to open and they still feel a bit swollen even though I haven’t yet shed any tears. I got to the park and didn’t want to run but made myself keep going. We need to grieve but we can’t despair; our kids need us to continue working toward a different future. I look at the Indigenous people resisting the pipeline in North Dakota and I know that we’re going to be okay. It hurts but we will heal, we will survive, we will endure even this…

Yesterday was the “book birthday” of Melena’s Jubilee. I certainly didn’t feel like celebrating amidst the election insanity, but I know I will find many moments to focus on the message in that book: we can always start over. What’s been broken can be repaired. We can change our habits and move forward together along a new path.

This is a good time to read with your kids. Hold them close and make sure they feel safe even though the world can be a scary place sometimes…

proximity

Yesterday was magical. I took the train down to Philly and immersed myself in Black feminist art for the entire day! The Colored Girls Museum is incredible and stirred up so many ideas and memories and feelings…every room in the 3-story Victorian house in Germantown was full of handmade quilts, dolls, paintings, and sculptures…each room had its own scent, and the soothing effect was almost canceled out by the invigorating conversation we four had about the art, artifacts, and history evoked by everyday objects. I was with my scholar-friend Prof. Ebony Thomas and a senior from Bryn Mawr arrived shortly after CGM founder Vashti Dubois started the two-hour tour. By the time the tour was over, I’d taken nearly 50 photographs and filmed 4 short videos. I left Philly with an idea for a new City Kids book set in the art-filled house, and spent much of today thinking about my own treasured objects and heirlooms. I can’t really describe the experience but urge you to find your own way to Philadelphia. The exhibit will be up next Sunday but then the museum will close until March. The photos below will give you a sense of what you can expect…

Philly is just a 90-minute train ride away and yet all summer long I found reasons not to make the pilgrimage to the CGM. I can only imagine what I missed by not seeing the previous exhibit. Sometimes things are so close and yet we don’t reach out and grab hold. I was heading to the train last week when I saw a young woman with a baby strapped to her chest. She was moving fast and I thought to myself, “Look at her–she’s doing it. Mommy on the move! I could never do that.” Then I entered the subway and walked down to the end of the platform. I was reading messages on my phone when I noticed the same young woman out of the corner of my eye. She was fussing with her baby carrier and seemed to need help but her back was to me so I waited to see what she would do. She eventually turned toward me but still said nothing so I finally asked, “Do you need a hand?” And she smiled and said yes before handing over her heavy baby bag and purse. I watched as she refastened her many clasps and then I handed over her bags and fastened the last clasp on the back of the carrier. She thanked me and walked away, and I thought to myself, “Why didn’t she just ask me for help?” But I suppose I do the same thing—get close to a thing I want and then let my fear or uncertainty hold me back…

Milo’s Museum has been approved; the digital proof looks good so I’m just waiting for the print copy to arrive before I make it available online. A trip to Philly last spring inspired this picture book, so it’s fitting that I was with those same creative Black women when the final files were approved. And there was an article in The Guardian today about the need for museums to make their collections more representative of our diverse communities, so I’m not too upset that the book’s coming out in November instead of September. I’ve got a long list of people to share Milo with—if you’d like a digital review copy, just leave your email address in the comments section. I finished Essay #4 on Sunday and sent it off, so now I’ve got a week ahead of me with only two author events. If you’re in NYC, you can get a sneak peek of Milo at the Brooklyn Museum Children’s Book Fair on Saturday. And I’m looking forward to discussing “The Trouble with Magic” with Prof. Gabrielle Halko’s students on Thursday; last week we got an offer on Dragons in a Bag from an editor who compared my writing to the books of Ruth Chew. I deconstruct some of her fantasy novels in that essay…loved The Magic Cave as a child but I’m not a child any more…

kinfolk

I’m sniffling, which isn’t good. Temps are falling here in NYC and that means the running shorts have been put away and out come the fleece-lined tights! I’ve been feeling a bit sluggish this fall and so force myself to keep up with my running regimen; that compensates for how I live when I’m on the road. I’m generally driven everywhere so I don’t get much exercise, and then I eat terribly–all the sweets in the goody bags hosts provide, plus room service, plus bonus cake when I get home from a full day of book talks and need some hot tea to soothe my sore throat. My three days in Illinois were fantastic—the Youth Literature Festival was a great opportunity to connect with young readers and their enthusiastic school librarians. I had the best possible driver assigned to me, and Larry took care of everything—tech problems, directions to the schools, parking, even room set up! And there were those moments when I connected with a kid of color who maybe didn’t even know she’d been waiting to meet an author like me. At one school there were very few kids of color, and when I finished my book talk, a Black girl came up and just wrapped her arms around me without saying a word. After my first high school talk, a young woman who’d been nodding through my entire book talk came up and introduced herself as a Pacific Islander. She told me she appreciated “everything” I had to say and then we talked for a while about Disney’s upcoming film Moana and the problematic Halloween costume they finally pulled after protest erupted online. The next morning I presented at a majority-White high school where the students seemed to be listening but refused to participate…as I walked out of the school, I checked my messages and found one from a student who wanted to know more about self-publishing but was new to the school and too shy to speak up during my talk. So, as always, I hope I planted a few seeds while I was away. I got to see two dear friends—Debbie Reese and Mimi Nguyen—and I connected with authors I don’t generally get to see since I’m not invited to many kid lit events. At the reception for authors held at the university president’s house, I got to meet scholar/author Sonia Rodriguez—once again, she felt like an old friend even though that was the first time we’d met in person. I look at that photo she took and don’t really see a 44-year-old woman, but I’m looking forward to my 45th year. I just received my author copies of Melena’s Jubilee, and Milo’s Museum is with my designer; hopefully that will be ready to share before the month ends. The birthday cards and gifts are already trickling in and I’m thinking of having cake a day early since I’ll be near my favorite bakery later today…

time to talk

It’s up! Please take a moment (9 minutes to be exact) and check out our collaborative article on reparations in the kid lit community. It was published yesterday at Embrace Race, so you should also check out their fundraiser at the bottom. These are difficult conversations but we’ve got to start somewhere, and I’m grateful that my friends—Maya Gonzalez, Neesha Meminger, Cheryl Willis Hudson, Deborah Menkart, and Debbie Reese—shared their insights with me.

My three days in Illinois were great! I’ll blog about the Youth Lit Fest tomorrow…

Midwest love

My three days in Cincinnati were awesome! I don’t think I’ve been back in Ohio since I taught at OU from 2001-2003; I remember being quite lonely then and it was hard to make friends, but this time around I felt more than welcome. This picture really says it all—the more I travel, the more thankful I am to find kindred spirits. I met my co-panelists, Greg Leitich Smith, Sam Bloom, and Alia Jones, for the first time this weekend; we’d previously “met” on social media and corresponded via email, but that’s no guarantee that we would actually connect in person. And yet as soon as I saw Sam coming forward to greet me at his daughters’ school, I felt like I was seeing an old friend. His wife also felt like someone I’d known for a while—it was her birthday and she still came out to see my presentation! Sam and Lisa, his colleague at the Cincinnati Public Library, stayed for my two writing workshops and the sixth-grade students I met were fantastic–full of imaginative ideas. For lunch we met librarian/blogger Edith Campbell and Alia at a lovely tea house where we talked honestly about problems in the kid lit community over scones, sandwiches, and cupcakes.

We had a mild, sunny day for the book festival on Saturday and it was a short walk from the hotel to the convention center. My table mate was friendly and though there were only a handful of PoC in the crowd, I met a few people who were looking for inclusive titles. One Black woman educator wanted a book for her 5th and 6th graders but there were no more copies of Ship of Souls. She bought a copy of Melena’s Jubilee for her reluctant readers and I offered her a postcard that shows all my books. Not surprisingly, she immediately pointed to The Deep and asked, “What’s this one about?” When I told her it’s about a Black girl superhero, she smiled and said, “That one’s for me!” For some reason, that book seems to captivate readers. On Friday at the school, I presented on Bird and Ship of Souls yet a small mixed-race boy with freckles asked me where he could find The Deep. “How old are you?” I asked him. When he said he was nine, I told him he’d be ready for The Deep when he was twelve. But I doubt he’s going to wait that long. The next day he and his mother stopped by my table at the book festival and asked me to sign a copy of Ship of Souls. Then they came back around a few minutes later and asked if they could take a photo with me. As he was leaving, the boy pulled a corner of the book from his plastic bag as if to say, “I really did buy it!” That had me smiling for the next five minutes. Another parent emailed me Saturday morning to thank me for inspiring her son:

Thank you for an amazing visit to Sands Montessori today. My son could not stop talking about your visit. He told me everything from your preschool years, the stolen microwave, saying hello (or was it thank you?) to a swan (was it a swan?), ancient burial grounds to the many books you’ve written. He started looking on Amazon after our conversation to see which books we should buy first!  No author visit has really done this before. He is a great reader and is always willing to read at night before bedtime. Thank you for inspiring him to continue reading and add more books to his library!

During our panel I talked about the systemic problems in the publishing industry, and I often say it will take more than a few “good apples” to turn things around. But that doesn’t mean that individuals are powerless to effect change, and when one person has the courage to go against convention, incredible things can happen. I’m grateful to Sam and the folks at the Cincinnati Public Library for the opportunity to connect with young readers and writers—I hope I planted a few seeds during my time at Sands Montessori. We could have kept on talking but ran out of time for our panel on Saturday; I’m hoping the conversation will continue when my reparations article comes out. The cover art for The Return is done so I need to turn my attention back to that novel. Hopefully I’ll get some hotel writing done while I’m in Illinois! Would love to have it done by my birthday on the 26th…