Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 35

real fierce

A few months ago, Ambelin Kwaymullina and I posted a three-part dialogue on this blog. In Part 2 I reflected on the dominance of White women in the kid lit community and the need for reparations. A woman in Seattle recently created a website called Reparations where those invested in social justice can connect—Whites offer resources they’re willing to share and Blacks can request the assistance they need. What if we tried something like that in the kid lit community? How would that play out? These are some of my reflections from this past February:

How could the dominant group ever make amends for the damage done to our children? For decades here in the US they have ignored our pleas for inclusion and perpetrated a form of symbolic annihilation by distorting or altogether erasing the image of Black youth. Can the publishing industry really be trusted to reform itself when those who uphold it haven’t acknowledged the harm they’ve caused? Of course, the first step would be an admission of wrongdoing, but most white Americans prefer reconciliation without its prerequisite: TRUTH.

Last week I came across two White women, Pernille Ripp and Liz Osisek, who blogged about their reassessment of the highly problematic YA novel WHEN WE WAS FIERCE. I was heartened by their honest reflections on their privilege and bias, but know that thousands of copies of WWWF have been pre-ordered and will still wind up in the hands of impressionable young readers across the country. So what can we do? Here’s one option: if you took the time to read, review, order, or recommend that 400-page book—a highly problematic novel written by a cultural outsider that nonetheless earned 3 starred reviews—would you be willing to devote that same time and energy to an urban novel written by a cultural insider? Rich in Color will be hosting a September discussion of my two novels, A WISH AFTER MIDNIGHT and its sequel THE DOOR AT THE CROSSROADS. Neither of my books was reviewed by Kirkus, School Library Journal, Booklist, or Publishers Weekly. And considering the fact that so many White readers fell in love with WWWF, there’s a good chance those review outlets wouldn’t have found my Black teen protagonists as appealing as T, Catch, Yo-Yo, and Ricky-Ricky…

But if you now feel a way about embracing WWWF, here’s an opportunity for you to do the right thing. Give urban fiction by a cultural insider a chance.

join us at the Queens Book Festival!

It’s the first of its kind, and it has been carefully planned by women of color—which is why it’s SO inclusive. I’ll be on a panel about diversity in kid lit at 11am. The event is free, but you do need to reserve a seat through Eventbrite. Check the website for more details!

Black voices matter

Here we go again. The publishing industry has produced a book written by an outsider that distorts and pathologizes Black youth. Please head over to Crazy QuiltEdi to read reviews of When We Was Fierce by Edith Campbell and Jennifer Baker; then stop by Reading While White to read K.T. Horning’s post, “When Whiteness Dominates Reviews.” Lee & Low’s Diversity Baseline Survey showed us that 90% of reviewers are White women so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that this problematic young adult novel has “earned” three starred reviews from the major outlets. It comes out in a week and only NOW are (some) people listening to the concerns of Black people. I’m so tired of this cycle. No one in the production process thought there might be a problem with this book; one Black author says he likes it and so it goes out for review and is named THE book to read this summer. Meanwhile actual Black writers with actual lived experience within the Black community can’t get their books published. The number of books ABOUT Blacks continues to rise, but not the number of books BY Blacks. When I wrote The Last Bunny in Brooklyn, I included a museum scene where the endangered bunny dreams about being turned into a mummy. Because that is what the dominant group does to us—they appropriate every aspect of our culture until we’re no longer necessary. We become a sort of quaint artifact to be put under glass. There’s the actual annihilation of Black bodies that’s reported on the nightly news, and then there’s the symbolic annihilation where White editors and agents show preference for non-Black writers and their narratives that distort our image/voice. When I spoke to the TYWLS teens last week, I wrapped up with a warning: “If you don’t tell your story, someone else will.” But the truth is, even when you DO tell your story, there’s a good chance that it will be dismissed while an outsider’s story is celebrated for its “authenticity.” If you haven’t read Percival Everett’s satirical novel Erasure, READ IT NOW. It’s about a Black author who only achieves fame when he writes an offensive, absurd mash-up of Native Son and Push (two Black-authored, commercially successful novels criticized for pathologizing Blacks for a White audience). The White literary establishment adores the book, of course, and it goes on to win the most prestigious literary award. That’s satire, but the White appetite for Black pathology is REAL. I haven’t read When We Was Fierce and don’t intend to. If you’re a fan of the author and/or plan to add the book to your school’s library, please take the time to read the reviews listed above. I don’t want the book banned, but I DO want it read and reviewed critically.

my place

On Monday I had the opportunity to lead a writing workshop with the amazing young women from TWYLS Bronx, Brooklyn, and Harlem at the Center for Fiction in midtown Manhattan. The KidsRead program provided copies of A Wish After Midnight for all the teens, I did my standard book talk, and then we read Sharon Flake’s poem “You Don’t Even Know Me.” After analyzing the poem, I asked the teens to make two lists: how others see you versus how you see yourself. I shared my two lists with them and noted that others often think I “don’t know my place.” I pride myself on being uppity and astonishing those who have low expectations of Black woman. But sometimes I avoid experiences and limit myself because I don’t feel comfortable in a particular place. Last night I was invited to a mixer in lower Manhattan, and I didn’t want to go. I’m not good at mingling, and I don’t generally go out at night, I don’t drink and I don’t do clubs, though I do know you’re expected to dress a certain way. I wanted to stay home and watch NOVA but the invitation came from a dear friend and so I put on some heels (but not a dress), made up a mantra, and chanted it on my way downtown: “This is for Laura. This is for Laura. Think of all the things Laura has done for you.” I got to the rooftop bar and the music was so loud I actually cringed. The place was packed and if Lyn Miller-Lachmann hadn’t been right at the door to greet me with a smile, I seriously would have turned around and gone home. Instead I attached myself to Lyn and she helped me find Laura; we formed a cluster with two other women of color and I managed to act normal (I think) for about half an hour. THEN I went home! And woke up determined to have a day of silence today. I don’t belong in a club or at a bar. This is where I feel most at ease:

But what kind of role model am I if I don’t embrace discomfort and veer out of my lane sometimes? Just before I left for the mixer I got an email with some good news from my agent. I feel like I’m dipping my toe back into the traditional publishing industry, and I’m not entirely comfortable with that. I say I’m all about hybridity but I don’t want to compromise my values. I want to publish with integrity and the easiest way to do that is to produce my books myself. I want to move beyond books, though, so this weekend I’m going to take an orientation class on film production. How can we amplify the voices of young women of color? What skills do I need to develop in order to make myself a better advocate for young Black readers and writers? I don’t have all the answers but I do feel like I’m moving in the right direction. I heard from a colleague today who developed his own television program; he’d like to collaborate and that would be an excellent opportunity to learn and grow. I went to the bank this morning to make a deposit and came home to find another check in the mail; I was paid by direct deposit for one freelance writing gig that didn’t work out, and then got an email asking me to submit an invoice for my other story, which was accepted by the client. Summer is an anxious time for me—too much unstructured time—but I feel strangely balanced right now. The fall is filling up with speaking gigs, I’m making progress on my unfinished novels. I’m ready to try something new and the planets seem to be aligned in my favor! In time I’ll find my place in the universe…

note to self

Finishing books is important, but what *really* matters is seeing your book in the hands of young readers. Yesterday I met some impressive young women at Howard University’s Upward Bound program. They were reading A Wish After Midnight and at least one teen was ready for the sequel—she slipped this note to the program coordinator and he shared it with me. Several others made a short film in which they shared their wishes for themselves and their community; you can check it out here. I haven’t written much lately but will try to make a push to finish Dragons in a Bag this weekend. One of the young women at Howard asked me whether I felt satisfied once I finished writing Wish since I wrote it partly in response to the lack of #BlackGirlMagic books in my own childhood. And I told her the truth: there will never be enough books to make up for what I missed when I was her age. Maybe that’s why I never seem to run out of ideas…and why it feels so urgent to finish my own books and get Black girls writing their own stories, too. On Monday I head to the Center for Fiction to work with another group of teenage girls who have read Wish. We’ll have time for a writing workshop and hopefully they’ll have more questions that help me remember why I do what I do.

how to heal

Write. But don’t engage with people who try to tell you how to feel. Write. Make sure you stick to your running regimen and hit the park every other day. Write. Don’t beat yourself up when you fall off the vegan wagon, but know that cake isn’t the answer. Write. Listen to your racing heart and know that your body is trying to tell you something. Write. Turn off the radio or the TV, close the Facebook tab so you don’t absorb all the pain that your friends and loved ones are suffering. Write. Prep for class and be glad that for an hour you can talk to kids about the wonder of books. Write. But cut yourself some slack if you don’t reach your thousand-word quota every day. I’m working on Chapter 8 and know this book only has 10 chapters, so that means I’m nearing the end. When I told my 6th graders in Queens that I was making good progress on my novel, they spontaneously started clapping. We’d only known each other about 15 minutes, but that was their response: “Good for you!” Then we gathered around the biggest table in the room and they assessed the covers of my other 22 books. Which book jumps out at you? Half said Ship of Souls or The Deep. Those books aren’t available through the First Book marketplace, but I’ll see if I can bring a copy of each for their camp library. Kids never fail to impress heal me. I haven’t done a school visit in a while, but the kids today were SO excited about the reading club—especially when we started reading aloud from The Lightning Thief. One page—that’s all we had time to read together—but the looks on their faces, especially the boys…how long will that kind of joy last?

I’m not going to go there, not tonight. I’m going to work on finishing this novel since the kids get to read the first chapter later this week. This 10K-word book will be twice as long as expected, and I’ve already started plotting the sequel. My students in Queens are Black and South Asian and the kids in this novel are Black and South Asian…when I taught for BookUP two summers ago, I started another novel in Queens. Maybe I can get back to that one this fall. A writer friend in Baton Rouge has been out in the street protesting the police murder of Alton Sterling; she finally decided to take a break and in an email called me “a machine.” I know what she meant—I churn words out like there’s a switch somewhere inside that I can just flip at will. There isn’t, of course, but writing is how I survive. I shed a few tears last week but I’m not really a weeper. I’m a writer. My stories are shaped in part by what’s happening in the world around me, and that makes them a form of testimony. I’m not untouched or unchanged by the horror show and neither is my work. But if I can bring joy to the very kids deemed least deserving by this society, then that’s what I will do…

abundance

So far this week, I’m averaging a thousand words per day. I could have used those words to finish The Ghosts in the Castle (though what to do about Brexit? write it into the story or ignore it?), but instead I switched gears and dove into Dragons in a Bag. The goal is to finish three novels this summer. I don’t know if my agent will want to send them out to editors, or if I’ll just go ahead and self-publish—and right now, it doesn’t matter. It feels good to be writing again, and to know that next month I’ll be sharing my dragon story with kids in Brownsville and Hollis; I’m leading two book clubs for the National Book Foundation’s BookUP program, which is partnering with Boomwriter and the Department of Youth and Community Development. I’ve been invited to speak with teen readers at Howard University in Washington, DC and just booked a train ticket to my cousin’s August wedding in Boston, but mostly I’ll be staying close to home this summer. And that feels good! I’ve made a summer wish list and already scratched off the first item: a trip to Coney Island (complete with Nathan’s hotdog and double-scoop cone). This coming weekend we’re going to visit the Alice Austen House in Staten Island. I’ve lived here for over twenty years and have NEVER been to Staten Island! I’m sure my summer would look rather dull to some folks, but I’m grateful to have these simple pleasures and so much time to write. I was out last week and every time I looked at something on offer I was able to say, “I’ve got that already.” Flowers by the bed, food in the fridge, good books to read, and story ideas swirling in my head. The icing on the cake? A fabulous, in-depth review of A Wish After Midnight by Nazahet Hernandez over at Read Diverse Books (check out our great interview, too). I once thought that book bloggers of color had disappeared, but I was wrong—they’re out there and they’re doing the work that many white bloggers can’t (or simply won’t) do. One exception, of course, is Lyn Miller-Lachmann who published the first review of The Door at the Crossroads over at The Pirate Tree. Last month Tiffa at The Picture Book Review did a lovely write-up for A Hand to Hold…I don’t get many reviews, but I’ll take quality over quantity any day. I’m trying to do things differently this summer, which is the theme of my forthcoming picture book with Tilbury House, Melena’s Jubilee. We had some trouble with the illustrations but now the book is ready to go to print and it looks great. Melena spends one day doing things differently, and that’s my goal for this summer: eat vegan during the week, try a one-month plank challenge, find a puppet show. Focus on abundance instead of lack…

Illustration by Aaron Boyd

Furqan’s First Flat Top

I’m always impressed when writers take matters into their own hands and bring their stories to life by self-publishing. Robert Liu-Trujillo’s first book is a beautifully illustrated story of a boy’s bold decision to change his style; when doubt sets in, his father’s reassurances and recollections of their extended family help Furqan feel confident once more. You can watch the trailer here . Rob was kind enough to share his thoughts with me. Welcome, Rob!


1. This book is dedicated to your son, and I believe you identify as a “Rad Dad.” Can you talk about your decision to write about a father and son, and the challenge of finding representations in kid lit (or popular culture) that reflect your particular reality of childhood/fatherhood?


First off, thank you for inviting me to be your blog and for your support. You rock Zetta!
 

Ok, so…Being a consumer of books, films, tv, games, the internet, advertising, etc I didn’t realize just how much of my family’s experience was missing from the cannon of popular or widely available stories. I couldn’t find books that I could point to and say “Hey Mijo, he’s just like you” or “that’s how I grew up”. I couldn’t.
 
As my son got older I found a few books focusing on young mixed brown boys with some similar experience, but he’s too old for a lot of those now you know? He began to read more challenging books with a little help from me, his mom, and his grandparents. And as he got into reading comics, graphic novels, and now chapter books for fun I started to look for more examples of him and who he is in those bookshelves (and forms of media). And to be honest, those reflections don’t existent yet or are hella hard to find. It’s getting better, but its still a hunt.

 
As Tomas Moniz says, I’m not a Rad Dad. Its something I wanna be, or something I aspire to be. When I became a dad it completely and incredibly altered my sense of being and purpose. When my son was just a year old and starting to walk I realized that much of his and his family’s experience would have to be made. I told myself, “I’m going to be a part of making those new stories” even if it takes me forever to do it, it just feels right. It feels like fighting back, you know? Because we’ve either been written out or completely ignored. 

And that was nearly a decade ago. I’m just starting to get to a point where I can present a story that is up to my own expectations or bar of storytelling that is a reflection of my life, his, and hopefully a bunch of other kids. I’m just getting started.




2. I’ve always been struck by your use of watercolor to depict people of color. Initially I worried that everyone seemed light-skinned, but as I’ve spent more time in the Bay Area, I wonder if this might be your take on multiracial identity (the “beiging” of the US). At the same time, there’s something gentle and soothing about watercolor, and it’s nice to see boys and men of color represented this way. Can you talk about what informs your aesthetic and how your visual style complements your storytelling priorities?


Sure, with the lightness it’s kinda of just me learning to use the medium correctly still. Even as I put out a book I’m studying. I’m trying to get better at depicting darker skin tones, backgrounds, lighting, and shadow. A lot of that study is of other painters and cinematographers and photographers. I definitely want to push the color and light a lot more. The light skin tones you see are just a part of my evolution. It wasn’t an intentional statement about being mixed but I see what you mean. My dad’s side of the family is almost all a very light brown and my mom’s side is a mix of darker browns and lighter tones. 
 
In regards to the softness. I started painting with watercolor almost 14 years ago and i still have a lot to learn. But yes! I do try to make the picture feel soft or warm. But you know, as I say that the style might change. I don’t want to stay the same stylistically. I want to evolve as the stories do. Some scenes are chill, laid back, or fun. I’m going to dive into some things that are more fantastical, scary, or dark in tone as I learn how to paint it right. When I first started to work on full scenes with characters I was using a lot of sepia tones, light browns, etc. I don’t know; I just experimented with that. I really like Bradford young’s work. How he lights his films. And through him I discovered Roy Decarava ( he was crazy talented). I really really dig Shaun Tan’s work with shadow and color. I love how LeUyen Pham uses different mediums depending on the story. I have so many influences from every day things I take a picture of, to illustrators, plein air painters, to old books at the library. I’m just getting started. 
 
I cannot wait to get all of the stories I have in my head out. I see so many aspects of my world and that of friends, family, and families from a far that must be put to page, you know?




3. I loved the illustration of the girl skateboarding–any chance she’ll get her own book? What’s next for you in terms of your writing/bookmaking life?


Glad you liked the girl. That is the first page I finished painting when I started. I wasn’t thinking about painting her again. Though a story with a young girl as a skater wouldn’t be bad. Peggy Oki maybe. What’s next is a combination of book pitching to some publishers I like, self publishing another story at some point in the near future, publicizing Laurin Mayeno’s new story, and building relationships with Furqan’s First. I have tons of stories to tell and new inspiration all the time so this will be life long. I hope to do some YA or middle grade covers and maybe a graphic novel too.  



***


Rob Liu-Trujillo is the author and illustrator of Furqan’s First Flat Top. He was born in Oakland, California and raised all across the Bay Area. He’s a visual artist, father, and a husband who employs the use of illustration, public art, and storytelling to tell tales. These tales manifest in a variety of forms and they reflect his cultural background, dreams, and political / personal beliefs. His motivation to do what he does is to unearth beautiful and un-told stories, to be a positive and nurturing influence on his son, and to honor his ancestors and family who worked so hard for him to be here. He loves music, nerdy things, and can get along well with most people. He seeks fun, ice cream, and justice. He’s also a co-founder of The Trust Your Struggle Collective , a contributor to Rad Dad, and the founder of Come Bien Books.

(photo credit: Scott La Rockwell)

not a Daddy’s girl

I spent the first 20 years of my life trying to please my father, and then I spent a good portion of my 20s trying to figure out what was wrong with me. A combination of grad school, therapy, self-help books, and radical feminist friends helped me feel more confident in my 30s; I cut ties with my father but then he got cancer and I spent an incredibly difficult year managing his care. In 2004 my dad died and I made a list of my friends before purging the folks that weren’t providing much-needed support (all three were men). When people ask me how I manage to be so productive, I remind them that I have no dependents—no kids, no pets, no man. My mother is still independent and so I don’t really have anything to stop me from writing and self-publishing. But being productive isn’t the same thing as being happy. And avoiding toxic people is wise but does the desire for safety limit our lives? I’m definitely less daring now than I was in my 20s (and less carefree than I was at age 9 with my Afro and roller skates, which my father brought back from an unannounced trip to LA). Maybe that’s why it has been so hard to develop a five-year plan. I can see my way to the end of 2016, but I’m not sure where I’ll be living or what I’ll be doing in 2020. Writing? Probably. But I need to know that I’m working towards something because otherwise I’m just working. I’m a creature of habit; I make lists so I can stay on task and track my progress. I also like to stay in my comfort zone. But someone on Facebook posted a great quote the other day (originally shared by Esmeralda Santiago):

Once you’ve been hurt, you learn to protect yourself. But the most important thing I learned in therapy is that the defenses you develop as a child often don’t serve you as an adult. I was in Toronto for 3 days last week and my longtime friend’s mum pulled out some photographs from 1981. It’s such a good feeling, being with folks who love you as you are now and have loved you for over 30 years. And as soon as I saw that photo of me on roller skates, I smiled at that confident girl who already knew how to do a glamor pose even though she also knew a girl like her wasn’t going to be featured in any magazine. Do we ever regain that kind of confidence? Girls are shamed at home, and shamed at school, and told endlessly in society that they aren’t “good enough.” Some of us rebel against those messages but a sort of fog remains…how much of who I am is really me, and how much is a reaction against what I’ve been told I’m supposed to be? I don’t generally hear my father’s voice in my head (well, maybe around weight: “Do you have an inch to pinch?”) but I do still hear my sister urging me to invest more in my appearance, which is really my father telling me to “fix myself up.” So maybe that’s why it’s so hard now to figure out just what is it I want to do with the second half of my life. I spent time with my cousins while I was in Toronto; they’re buying homes and having kids and getting married. I don’t think that’s my path, though it helps to hear honest accounts of the trials of parenthood and home ownership. It also helps that several of my friends are also experiencing midlife angst. Today Sofia Quintero hipped me to this video that recommends making three lists: What experiences do I want to have? How will I need to grow? What do I want to contribute? I learned from a neighbor yesterday that the co-op board is “concerned” about my ten-year sublease, so maybe I’ll have to move from my cozy home/port sometime in the future. That’s disconcerting but also the sort of challenge I just might need right now. I’m not sure I grow without being forced to confront some sort of obstacle, and I’m awfully good at avoiding conflict! But what served me as a child doesn’t necessarily help me as a middle-aged woman. I don’t want to just “get by,” or make ends meet. And there’s no guarantee that I’ve GOT five years to figure it out. There’s so much random violence in this world and daily threats that women of color face. I don’t have to have all the answers right now, but a little pressure might help. Whatever time you’ve got, you’ve got to make it count…

float like a butterfly?

I went to the botanic garden this morning. I missed the sign that said the path I was following was closed due to construction up ahead, but before turning back I noticed a small butterfly attempting to land on a flowering plant. The wind was strong this morning but despite being buffeted by gust after gust, the determined butterfly held its course. I thought of Muhammad Ali who passed away last week, and how often I’ve thought of butterflies as “accidental” fliers tumbling on the breeze—like bumblebees who, despite their bulk, manage to hang in the air long enough to drop into a flower’s open heart. Considering how often I’m underestimated by others, I should have known that butterflies are on a mission no matter how random their flight pattern may appear—just look at the migration of the monarchs! I had so many thoughts building in my mind this morning that I almost walked past the rose garden, which is absolutely glorious in June. I’ve never really been a fan of roses but that kind of abundance is dazzling…

There was a bride having her photo taken amidst the roses and so I took another detour but I couldn’t avoid all the families in the garden. And I know I started plotting my Viking novel moments later so I could avoid thinking about children and the role they may or may not play in my life. Yesterday a friend admitted she’s given up on the idea of having a family. I was shocked, but then wondered if that’s the first step in achieving a goal—like couples who struggle with fertility, decide to adopt, and then find they’ve conceived a child. I had an appointment to see a fertility specialist on Monday but when I arrived, I learned the clinic wasn’t open and the doctor wouldn’t be in until later in the week. I could have rescheduled but I didn’t. I want assurances that no one can give and the truth is, I really don’t know what I want right now. I have options but no real plan. Family has been such a traumatic experience for me and whenever I’m with my family, I remember why I moved to another country twenty years ago. But no woman is an island. I had brunch with a good friend a few months back; her work life has made it difficult to find time to write, but she’s a great mother and a successful professional so it surprised me to hear her say, “Sometimes I look at my life and ask myself, ‘Is this it?'”

I want to be more like that butterfly in the garden. I’m a creature of habit and probably won’t ever run out of story ideas, but do I want to do what I’m doing now for another forty years? I don’t know. So I decided maybe this weekend I should work on a five-year plan. Fifty people were slaughtered in another mass shooting in Orlando, emphasizing just how inhospitable the US has become for many of us. Do I see myself living here—in my beloved Brooklyn, in my cozy apartment—five years from now? I don’t know. If I moved to another country and adapted to a different culture, would I be more or less likely to build a family of my own? History binds me to this continent but what if I went in search of a new world? I might take my baggage with me… Taking a walk with another friend and will pick her brain about what it means to live a purposeful life. Serve others—that matters. Find joy—that matters, too. Avoid risk/pain? Not really possible if you want to truly engage with the world. I may need the rest of this month—or this summer—to come up with a plan, but I’m going to try!