Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 49

butterball

My father didn’t like my hair and he was anxious about my nose, which he feared would turn out like his. He didn’t like my potbelly either (they called me “butterball” as a baby), and when I was a child my dad used to poke me in the gut and ask, “You got an inch to pinch?” My relationship to food is complicated for all kinds of reasons. My father traumatized my mother by constantly criticizing her body; after they divorced, she kept on dieting and I started eating a whole lot of broke-single-mother food (namely no-name brand cookies and Hamburger Helper). After he died in 2004, I started to gain weight. Was it because I moved to Louisiana and bought my first car? Or was it because I finally felt free to eat without my father’s eagle eyes watching for me to “blow up?” I loved my father deeply and was desperate for his approval, and hardly a day has gone by in the past ten years when I haven’t thought of him and smiled. On Saturday I braved the three-inch slush on the sidewalks and took a walk around my neighborhood. I’m trying to lose weight—not for my father, but for myself—and that means making sure I’m active every day, even when the weather sucks. As I passed the Brooklyn Museum, I saw a Black father helping his daughter build a snowman. And I smiled but didn’t let myself stare. I don’t know if my father ever built a snowman with me, but he used to take us ice skating and I remember watching in awe as he whizzed around the rink on his hockey skates. I was competitive as a kid because my father cared about sports, and being a winning athlete meant he would be proud of me. I beamed when he called me “Slugger,” even if he missed the softball game when I hit that grand slam and was named MVP. My dad let me down more times than I can count, and yet so much of who I am today is a direct result of trying—and failing—to please him. I have all kinds of “other mothers” but I don’t have any older men in my life who fill that fatherly role. And I like it that way—as I often say, “Surviving one father was enough!” It’s my dad’s birthday today; he would have been 74. He died young because he wouldn’t treat his prostate cancer, so it metastasized and spread to his liver and lungs. We’re having a blizzard right now and that’s often a great time to write. But I’m procrastinating, of course. Earlier I watched my first YouTube hair tutorial; Bianca Alexa taught me how to do a “Pineapple Up Do,” which is actually kind of cute. My father would be horrified—it’s too wild, too far from his idea of how “a lady” should look. My father was a bundle of contradictions—he adored Dionne Warwick and Linda Carter. I don’t really recall him ever calling me pretty, but I remember him raving about Linda Carter and then telling me years later that I “looked like Wonder Woman.” I don’t think I look like Linda Carter but if that’s the best my father could do, I’ll take it.

Saturday haiku

this morning I woke

to songbirds indifferent

to overnight snow

***

where have my words gone?

flown south with the butterflies

that once danced for me

***

leave dreams in dark rooms

lift your eyes, search silver skies

for winter’s pale sun

freak out

I’m trying not to freak out. After I finished that last blog post I realized I hadn’t said all the things I wanted to say about our panel at the Black Comic Book Festival; in fact, I carefully avoided the most important thing that happened—probably because I knew I was on the brink. Today I woke up and got ready for a school visit not too far from my home. I used to present at this school back in 2009, and it was nice to return and be remembered by the librarian and principal. The auditorium was full of 4th and 5th grade students and we had a great conversation—especially once I got off stage and could stand closer to where the kids were seated. The principal selected 8 kids to come up and ask me a question and there’s nothing like looking into a child’s face while you try to convince her that all the stories in her head matter. The principal asked how many of the students wanted to become a writer and almost all their hands went up, so we talked a lot about self-publishing. One girl asked me how the people who work in publishing feel about not producing books by and about people of color. And I told her that some white editors really did care about diversity and were actively trying to find writers of color, but most lacked the cultural competence to even judge stories by people from different cultures. And the principal didn’t miss a beat—he immediately asked the students if they’d ever taken a standardized test that had cultural references they couldn’t understand! Then the assembly ended and the students filed out of the auditorium—but, as always, a few lingered and came up to ask me just one more question. Two girls asked me to show them how to make their own books, one boy asked me the pros and cons of self-publishing, and one boy eluded his teacher’s grasp and rushed up to the stage to ask if he could have Ship of Souls to give to his sister. Gender’s always on my mind but since the publishing panel on Saturday, I’ve been thinking more about how “publishing for the people” is really a feminist act. I proposed that project last fall and know I probably won’t get the grant I applied for (which is my fault because I didn’t follow the guidelines), but I’m still finding ways to connect people with print-on-demand technology. Today I had lunch with a friend and she’s making some big moves in her life right now; I feel like I’ve lost my daring as I’ve aged, so it was inspiring to see the risks she and her husband are willing to take with their young family. She also had some great advice for the “publishing for the people” workshop: make it a web class that people can pay to take online. I wrote the grant so that folks wouldn’t have to pay for anything, but I do need to think about how I’m going to guide writers through the self-publishing process. I need to find some collaborators and the Scorpio in me recoils from that idea…but I realize more and more that I can no longer afford to indulge my insecurities and discomforts. I’m an introvert but I’ve trained myself to speak in public; I prefer to work alone but clearly don’t have the skills I need to do everything by myself. On Saturday there were so many young women who approached me after the panel wrapped up, and I realized—yet again—how important it is to be honest about one’s strengths and limitations. The Q&A ended with a woman who could barely ask her question because she was (or had been) crying. Which set me off, of course, because she was asking about affirmation and how to fight feelings of worthlessness when everything and everyone around you says, “You don’t matter.” I don’t remember everything I said but fortunately, folks were live Tweeting:

 

"Why do you write about magical black girls?" When I look around me for the women who are powerful, I'm looking at black women- Zetta Eliott

— Black Nerd Problems (@blknrdproblems) January 17, 2015

"Tell yourself, 'Black women are inherently valuable.' Surround yourself with things that affirm you." -@zettaelliott #blackcomicfestnyc

— H.H. (@HEYHashimotosan) January 17, 2015

"If you don't have [an affirming community] look to characters in books, in movies." -@zettaelliott #blackcomicfestnyc

— H.H. (@HEYHashimotosan) January 17, 2015

for Black artists who feel insecure&undervalued&underestimated, "Make a community that will affirm you." -@zettaelliott #blackcomicfestnyc

— H.H. (@HEYHashimotosan) January 17, 2015

"Wake up, look in the mirror, and remind yourself Black women are inherently valuable." @zettaelliot #BlackComicFestNYC

— Jordan M Calhoun (@jordanmcalhoun) January 17, 2015

"Decolonize your imagination by speaking up. The more you begin to tell your stories, the more you begin to realize your authentic voice."

— H.H. (@HEYHashimotosan) January 17, 2015

@BlackjackAD @zettaelliott The young illustrator at the end felt so moved by the panel, claimed her own space, and brought tears to all!

— Mel (@melissablemur) January 18, 2015

I love the idea of having “Wonder Woman boots” but the truth is, I rarely feel like a superhero. Right now I feel a little dizzy when I think about all the things I need to do—deadlines to meet, presentations to prepare, opportunities I need to generate to keep myself afloat. Being a working artist (or an “eating artist” as my friend Rosa would say) means saying yes to almost everything because you never know when one yes will lead to another, bigger offer. I have a few days before my next school visit and will try to finish up that darn essay tomorrow so I can move on to The Return. When I tell kids I have a book about a Black girl superhero they instinctively respond—even the young kids today wanted to know more about Nyla. “You are not your own; you were bought with a price.” I say that to myself pretty often so I remember that what I do isn’t just for my own gratification. I’ve already written the ending for The Return. Nyla shares a Wolof proverb with Hakeem: “Nit nitai garabam. A person is the medicine of another person.” We’re here to heal one another…

points

Publishing panel: John Jennings (moderator), me, Tim Fielder, and Alex Simmons. Photo by Melissa Blemur

I’m still having trouble weaving words together so I’ve decided to summarize yesterday’s Black Comic Book Festival in point form (you can watch our publishing panel here). Whenever I’m on a panel, my mind somehow gets wiped clean as soon as I step off stage. Fortunately folks on Twitter were taking notes! I have no idea how anyone can Tweet and pay attention at the same time, but reading their tweets will make you feel like you were right there with us at the Schomburg. Check out Black Nerd Problems (@blknrdproblems), H.H. (@HEYHashimotosan), and Prof. Jonathan W. Gray (@elmcitytree). You know I can’t keep up with Twitter but I’m grateful that so many people tweeted and retweeted the important points made by the panelists and moderators. And thank you, Melissa Blemur, for taking such great photos. Now—on to my random points:

I’m an introvert but that doesn’t mean I’m shy. It does mean that I’m not comfortable approaching strangers, however, so one of the things I love best about presenting in public is that moment when the event ends and people come up to continue the conversation. I got off stage and immediately sold a copy of The Deep (but to a graphic novel scholar, which makes me nervous) and when I looked up, a queue had formed in the auditorium aisle—writers, parents, educators, and students. Actually, one of the first attendees I spoke to was an 11-year-old boy named Dior who asked about my books and told me a bit about his experience at Excellence Boys Charter School here in Brooklyn. His mother took a photo of us and hopefully I’ll get to present at his school in the coming weeks. I never met an author when I was a child and I love that Dior’s mom a) brought him to the Black Comic Book Fair and b) brought him up to the stage after our panel so he could meet the people who are creating stories for and about kids like him!

Photo by Melissa Blemur

We had to clear the auditorium almost immediately and so we all moved to the lobby area and folks patiently waited as I sold a few more books and answered questions. The best part of meeting new people is being able to provide information that will help them advance their writing goals. Several young women wanted to know how to connect with a writing community and I encouraged them to attend the upcoming Children’s Book Writers conference organized by Kweli Journal . Two kind church ladies invited me to present before their youth group, and one intrepid white woman—the only publishing professional to attend our panel—waited to have a frank discussion about book sales and the “formula” for acquiring new titles. Her professor friend purchased two books and then started up a conversation with Jordan and Omar about the merits of Black-ish. They then walked me out and kindly asked to interview me for Black Nerd Problems; in return I helped find Jordan’s lost hat, which he needed because it was FREEZING outside. When I got back to Brooklyn in the evening, I laughed out loud at their tweets—this one in particular:

 

“*waiting*… It’s not easy being the only woman up here”- Zetta Eliott. Zetta Eliott Da Gawd!!!! #blackcomicfestnyc #MagicalAfroPunkWomen

— Black Nerd Problems (@blknrdproblems) January 17, 2015

From the Schomburg I walked over to Tio Luca and met MY community of Black women writers for brunch. Ebony came up from Philly; Kya flew in from LA; Ibi took the train from Brooklyn, and Renee, Dhonielle, and Jenn walked over from their Harlem homes. There’s really no way to convey the energy we generate when we gather around a table to break bread and dish about our favorite books, TV shows, films, bloggers, etc. Then we get down to the real work of “fixing” the publishing industry and surviving the microaggressions leveled at us by editors and/or reviewers. We were in the cafe for at least two hours and then we walked over to a cake spot on St. Nicholas Ave. before hopping on the train. Ibi bought a new hat at a little boutique we passed along the way, and I dreamt about the hat I’ll wear while hosting a literary salon over at Weeksville (more on that later, so stay tuned)!

2015 is off to a good start! I’ve got 4 school visits coming up and then January will end with ALA Midwinter’s Day of Diversity in Chicago. In February I head to Austin to tape a ten-minute segment for BlackademicsTV. I tried to do a little online shopping (don’t want to look like an academic when I’m not one) and got an email this morning telling me my order has been canceled. Sigh. Still plan to wear my new “Wonder Woman boots”…

Black Comic Book Festival 2015

Today was AMAZING! I’ll probably have to blog tomorrow but for now I’m going to try to embed some of the photos folks posted on Twitter…

#BlackComicFestNYC panel on the publishing industry: John Jennings, @zettaelliott, Tim Fielder, & @BlackjackAD. pic.twitter.com/rAVBM95wzY

— Mel (@melissablemur) January 17, 2015

Tim Fielder, @JIJennings @zettaelliott, and Alex Simmons talking self publishing @SchomburgCenter #blackcomicfestnyc pic.twitter.com/hrSOmrgTEU

— Jonathan W. Gray (@elmcitytree) January 17, 2015

.@zettaelliott is my new favorite person in the world. #BlackComicFestNYC pic.twitter.com/EGzmApGgPf

— Jordan M Calhoun (@jordanmcalhoun) January 17, 2015

.@zettaelliott & @JIJennings talking about her 'freaks & geeks' trilogy @SchomburgCenter #blackcomicfestnyc pic.twitter.com/qzbIYJDrkc

— Jonathan W. Gray (@elmcitytree) January 17, 2015

about my rights

I’m looking for a way to quote June Jordan in my unfinished essay that’s due this month. I searched for a poem I thought I’d read—“Breathing Room”—but realized I had misremembered it. Living Room is Jordan’s 1985 collection that includes the poem “Moving Towards Home:”

…I need to speak about home

I need to speak about living room

where the land is not bullied and beaten into

a tombstone

I need to speak about living room

where the talk will take place in my language

I need to speak about living room

where my children will grow without horror

I need to speak about living room where the men

of my family between the ages of six and sixty-five

are not

marched into a roundup that leads to the grave

I need to talk about living room

where I can sit without grief without wailing aloud

for my loved ones

where I must not ask where is Abu Fadi

because he will be there beside me

I need to talk about living room

because I need to talk about home

I was born a Black woman

and now

I am become a Palestinian

against the relentless laughter of evil

there is less and less living room

and where are my loved ones?

It is time to make our way home.

I usually feel safe at home and I spend a lot of time here. But on Monday the handyman who lives with his family in the basement of my building blindsided me in the nearby bodega with a kiss to the cheek. I was horrified—and disgusted—and yet I didn’t hit him or curse him out. I recovered enough to accept his thanks for the end-of-year tip I slid under his door over the holidays. Then I walked out of the store fuming, furious, and fed up. Almost a year ago this same Black man did something else inappropriate and unwanted; once again, I was shocked and simply avoided him for a long while. He was *in* my apartment at the time—in my bedroom plastering the wall. And even though I knew the answer, I wondered why he felt he had the right to put his hands on me. I’m friendly with everyone in my building—my neighbors, the doormen, the porter, the Super. And NO ONE has ever touched me. I’m not to blame, I know that, but I keep thinking that maybe if I’d said something then—maybe if I’d reported it to the management company or threatened to—he wouldn’t have felt he could walk up without warning and put his lips on me this week. I’m getting upset again as I type this and I hope I can channel this rage into The Return, but male entitlement isn’t fictional and far more serious assaults against women take place every minute of every day in this world. And I hate to admit it, but I guess I’ve been lucky. I’m 42 and I can only think of one other time when I had to deal with something like this. When a white guy in college grabbed my ass on the dance floor my freshman year, my football player friends took care of it for me. They demanded an apology, I got it, and then I went home. I was one of just two or three Black girls at my college and I’m sure that had something to do with why *I* was assaulted by that white guy. And the male friends who menaced him into an apology were white, too—and they would never have assaulted a woman that way. I think. Which is why they were my friends. I don’t have many men in my life these days and that’s a deliberate decision that lowers my stress levels. Occasionally I see friends posting warnings on their Facebook feed: “Make one more sexist comment and you WILL be deleted.” I don’t have those kinds of comments in my feed because I don’t have those kinds of men in my online community. And I guess I should be glad that this incident has upset me so much—if this happened to me more often, I’d be “used to it.” I work almost exclusively with women and the few men I encounter on school visits are exceedingly polite because I’m their guest. And they’re professional—and decent. And there are almost always kids around; maybe they know there would be consequences if they disrespected me. I haven’t yet decided whether I want to write a letter and inform the co-op board. As usual, I’m partly worried about “making trouble” for this handyman: he’s Black and the board is all-white. I don’t owe him anything and the next day I did tell him—in front of his boss—not to ever touch me again. But now I don’t want to be anywhere near him and THIS IS MY HOME. This is the space where I’m supposed to feel safe and at ease. When you’re a woman, where is your living room if not at home?

Back to my essay. “I can’t breathe…”

see you Saturday!

I hope you’ll join us in Harlem on Saturday for the 3rd Annual Black Comic Book Festival at the Schomburg. I’ll be on the publishing panel at 11:45am but will arrive early to I can catch the film that starts at 10:15am. There will be lots of vendors, I’ll have a few books to sell, and there are sure to be at least a few cosplayers dressed as their favorite Black comics characters! John Jennings and Jerry Craft have worked hard to make this event happen, and if you’re on the west coast, there will be another fantastic comics event on MLK Day in San Francisco. Here’s the full schedule for January 17:

10:00 am – 7 pm Doors open to the public (Free Admission)

(Langston Hughes Auditorium)

10:15 – 11:45 am

Screening: “Brave New Souls: Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Writers of the 21st Century” A film by Brandon Easton (Running time 1:02)

12:00 – 1:15 pm PANEL #1

PUBLISHER’S PANEL:

Moderated by John Jennings: Artist / Educator / Publisher (Kid Code)

Zetta Elliott: Author / Educator / Publisher (The Deep)

Alex Simmons: Author / Educator / Publisher (Blackjack)

Tim Fielder: Animator / Educator / Publisher (Matty’s Rocket)

2:00 – 2:30 pm Tribute #1 pm

Tribute to Morrie Turner and Brumsic Brandon

Moderated by Tara Nakashima Donahue

2:30- 3 pm Tribute #2 pm

Honoring Mshindo Kuumba

Moderated by Jerry Craft

3:15 – 4:45 pm PANEL #2

CONTROLLING OUR IMAGES:

Moderated by Regine Sawyer: Author / Publisher (Lockett Down Productions)

Mshindo Kuumba: Art Director / 2D Lead Artist / Visual Artist

Grey Williamson: Artist / Author

Robert Garrett: Writer / Publisher (Xmoor Studios)

Alithia Martinez: Artist / Author

5:00 – 6:00 PM PANEL #3

COMICS and BEYOND:

Moderated by Jerry Craft: Author/Artist/Publisher (Mama’s Boyz)

Aren Craft: Author (The Offenders-Middle Grade Novel)

Jennifer Crute: Artist / Designer / Fine Artist (Jennifer’s Journal)

Jamar Nicholas: Artist / Educator (Leon: Protector of the Playground)

Chuck Collins: Artist / Animator / Voice Actor (Bounce)

(American Negro Theater)

2 pm – 3:00 pm

Youth Workshop: “Creating Your Own Comic Books” with Alex Simmons

first ten days

Words seem to have left me. I didn’t write a thing over the holidays, and so I am using the subzero temperatures as the excuse I need to stay indoors and get this essay done. So far I’ve only got one angry paragraph about the Daniel Handler incident and a commitment to this opening line: “I can’t breathe.” I hoped 2015 would be different—insert page break, please—but we seem to have picked up right where we left off. A white man allegedly bombed the NAACP office in Colorado but the US media isn’t covering that act of terrorism (have you seen Selma yet?); they’re too consumed with the other act of terrorism in Paris, leaving many to ask—yet again—whose lives matter. I was anxious about teaching my diverse speculative fiction class at Pine Manor College, but I think it went well. Only three students registered but we had about 13 people in the end, and everyone seemed interested and invested in examining the power dynamics behind the writing and publication of spec fic. I miss teaching and so I’m glad I’ll be heading back into schools this month; I have 5 school visits booked so far, and I’ll be on the publishing panel at the Schomburg’s 3rd Annual Black Comic Book Fair on January 17. Several friends are coming in from out of town and I know we will gather afterward to break bread and analyze the field. It’s always good to be around creative people who also view the world through a critical lens. Last night Dr. Ebony Thomas (@Ebonyteach) filled my inbox with Twitter notifications by sharing my list of 2014 African American MG & YA Novels. We didn’t reach 40 books for the year and yet YALSA suggests 3000 YA novels are published annually in the US. You do the math. But somehow when I publicize this depressing fact, it becomes a bit more bearable. Because I know I’m not the only one who’s pissed off, and I’m also not the only one working to create alternatives to the traditional publishing process. I was really impressed by how earnest and engaged the MFA students at Pine Manor College were; when people are confronted with injustice, often the first response is to look away or clam up, but these writers were more ready to fight than flee. Later that evening I gave a reading from A Wish After Midnight and enjoyed hearing work by the program’s full-time faculty, Robert Lopez and Laura Williams McCaffrey. A couple of Canadian students came up afterward and we compared the prospects for writers here in the US and in the Great White North. Then I was called upstairs to sign copies of my books, which apparently sold out in a flash. It was COLD in Boston, but everyone involved with the Solstice program was warm and welcoming; Anne-Marie Oomen cooked dinner for the faculty and loaned me a sweater when she saw me shivering in the lounge, and the way things ran so smoothly was clearly due to the amazing organizational skills of Meg Kearney and Tanya Whiton. We’re only ten days into the new year and it’s clear there are challenges ahead, but as the Buddhist proverb reminds us, “the obstacle is the path.” Sometimes we just have to focus on moving forward…

2014 African American MG & YA Fiction

It’s that time of year again! How many Black-authored middle grade and young adult novels were published in the US in 2014? Let’s find out. If I’ve missed any titles, please leave additions in the comments. Thanks to Edith Campbell for keeping a list of diverse titles on her blog.

1. Fake ID by Lamar Giles; Amistad

2. Beware of Boys (Charley’s Epic Fiascos) by Kelli London; Kensington

3. The Blossoming Universe of Violet Diamond by Brenda Woods; Nancy Paulsen Books (Penguin)

4. STAT #5: Most Valuable (Stat: Standing Tall and Talented); Amar’e Stoudemire; Scholastic MG

5. When I Was the Greatest by Jason Reynolds; Atheneum Books for Young Readers

6. Catfish by Nina Foxx; Brown Girl Publishing

7. How I Discovered Poetry by Marilyn Nelson; Dial Books

8. Game World by C. J. Farley; Akashic/Black Sheep

9. Willow by Tonya Cherie Hegamin; Candlewick

10. Promise of Shadows by Justine Ireland; Simon and Schuster

11. A Matter of Souls by Denise Lewis Patrick; Carolrhoda Press

12. Pointe by Brandy Colbert; Putnam Juvenile

13. Truth or Dare (Rumor Central #4) by Reshonda Tate Billingsley; Kensington

14. The Great Greene Heist by Varian Johnson; Arthur A. Levine

15. Complicit by Stephanie Kuehn; St. Martin’s Griffin

16. Tales From A Not-So-Glam TV Star (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renée Russell; Aladdin

17. Put Your Diamonds Up (Hollywood High) by NiNi Simone and Amir Abrams; K Teen Press

18. Kinda Like Brothers by Coe Booth; Scholastic MG

19. Knockout Games by Greg Neri; Carolrhoda Books

20. A New Beginning: My Journey with Addy by Denise Lewis Patrick, American Girl MG

21. The Zero Degree Zombie Zone by Patrick Henry Bass and Jerry Craft; Scholastic

22. Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson; Nancy Paulsen Books

23. Dork Diaries 8: Tales from a Not-So-Happily Ever After by Rachel Renee Russell; Aladdin

24. How It Went Down by Kekla Magoon; Henry Holt and Co.

25. On A Clear Day by Walter Dean Myers; Crown Books for Young Readers

26. The Red Pencil by Andrea Davis Pinkney; Scholastic Press

27. The Madman of Piney Woods by Christopher Paul Curtis; Scholastic

28. The Unstoppable Octobia May by Sharon G. Flake

29. Love is the Drug by Alaya Dawn Johnson; Arthur A. Levine

30. You’re all I Want For Christmas by Earl Sewell, Candid Ferrer and Deidre Berry; Kimani Tru

31. Tales from a Not So Happily Ever After (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renee Russell; Alladin

32. Make Something of It by Stephanie Perry Moore; Lerner Group

33. Caught Up by Amir Abrams; KTeen

34. The Perfect Place by Theresa E. Harris; Clarion Books

35. Lights, Love & Lip Gloss by Amir Abrams and Ni Ni Simone; K-Teen

36. The Contract by Derek Jeter and Paul Mantell; Jeter Publishing

 

 

Children’s Book Writers Conference

Do you know about Kweli Journal? It’s celebrating its 5th birthday and I recently heard from its founder, Laura Pegram, who let me know she’s planning a tribute to the late Walter Dean Myers at her upcoming children’s book writers conference. She also shared this message on Facebook:

All things considered, we had a sweet year. Three Kweli authors secured literary agents as a direct result of either participating in our Kweli Scholars Program and/or by attending our Annual Writers Conference. This past March, we hosted our first book party at La Casa Azul Bookstore for Wise Latinas, Writers on Higher Education. In July, we expanded our Annual Writers Conference with events throughout the city. Our first NYSCA grant made it possible to bring on three guest editors this year for our Summer, Fall and Winter issues. In October 2014, Kweli was part of BinderCon’s inaugural conference at NYU.

2015 promises to be another spectacular year for us! The highlight of the year will be our April 23, 2015 program at The Schomburg Center: Words and Images (working title) with NIKKY FINNEY, RACHEL ELIZA GRIFFITHS and PARNESHIA JONES. It would be the first gathering of its kind in celebration of black women and the southern landscape. And it will include a NYC preview of Rachel’s Fall 2015 folio book and exhibition at University of Mississippi Museum. Rachel spent about 2 months photographing black women in Oxford, Mississippi this past summer, in and around the William Faulkner Estate, including photographs within the cabin of Callie Barr Clark (1840 – 1940).

2015 will be one of our best years yet!

LOOKING FORWARD to 2015

Children’s Book Writers Conference

January 21, 2015 5-9PM

Poet’s Den Theater, 309 E 108th Street NY, NY

This will be an excellent opportunity to learn, get inspired and network with others in the community. The evening will include author readings, panel discussions, one-on-one pitch sessions and a reception.

Featured guests include: Tracey Baptiste, Sulay Hernandez, Cheryl Willis Hudson, Charles Johnson, Elisheba Johnson, Cheryl Klein, Daniel José Older, Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich, Danette Vigilante, Stacy Whitman, Leila Gómez Woolley, Sara Woolley and Phoebe Yeh

More information here.

Donate to Kweli here.