Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 89

The Ethical Author?

In the summer of 2009 I got an unusual email from Amazon—not an advertisement or order confirmation, but a personal email. This message came from an acquisitions editor who had read my novel, A Wish After Midnight, which I had self-published the year before. This editor said he loved the book and wanted to partner with me to help it find a larger audience. After verifying that it wasn't a hoax, I entered into negotiations and ultimately sold the rights to my novel to AmazonEncore, the company's new publishing wing. Wish was given a beautiful new cover and was re-released six months later in early 2010.

As a black feminist, I definitely had reservations about partnering with a behemoth like Amazon. I worried what my friends would say—would they accuse me of selling out? Was I betraying my feminist values? Yet, I reasoned, I had spent nearly a decade dealing with rejection from big and small publishers alike. My work was even turned down by a feminist press that was headed by a black woman! I didn't embrace self-publishing at the outset—I was driven to it by the refusal of traditional publishers to give my writing their official stamp of approval. Self-publishing ensured that my work would exist in the world, but I still encountered a great deal of resistance and a certain measure of disdain, and it was still a real challenge to get my books into the hands of readers and reviewers.

In the end, to my relief, most of my feminist friends congratulated me on my decision to work with Amazon and did all they could to spread the word about my "new" novel. I had a fantastic experience collaborating with the AmazonEncore team—I was treated with respect, my expertise and ideas were valued, and no changes were made to my feminist narrative about two black teenagers sent back in time to Civil War-era Brooklyn. Wish wasn't reviewed in any major outlets, but the blogosphere embraced it and my overall experience was so positive that I plan to publish my next YA novel with AmazonEncore in 2012.

I'm still determined, however, to keep all options on the table when it comes to publishing. The industry is in flux right now, and I think authors need to respond by being flexible and open to new possibilities. We also need to be conscious of the ways that certain voices continue to be marginalized within the publishing community. Statistics compiled by the Cooperative Children's Book Center demonstrate that authors of color constitute only 5% of the five thousand books published annually for young readers. Getting published is an uphill battle for most writers, but the institutional racism that pervades all sectors of US society makes it that much harder for people of color to have their stories published by traditional houses. Self-publishing has been an important option for black writers for centuries, and I suspect that won't change any time soon.

The first time I spoke publicly about self-publishing was at Rutgers University. After reviewing my award-winning picture book, Bird, Dr. Yana Rodgers invited me to present before her students in the Women and Gender Studies Department. She assigned my self-published play, Mother Load, and I developed a presentation that featured my sheroes, Barbara Smith, Audre Lorde, and June Jordan. I talked about Second Wave black feminist publications and the historical importance of Kitchen Table: Women of Color  Press. I explained my decision to start my own imprint, Rosetta Press, which is committed to publishing books "that reveal, explore, and foster a black feminist vision of the world." Finally I read aloud June Jordan's prophetic words about the "difficult miracle" of being a black writer in the US:

…we have been rejected and we are frequently dismissed as "political" or "topical" or "sloganeering" and "crude" and 'insignificant" because, like Phillis Wheatley, we have persisted for freedom. We will write against South Africa and we will seldom pen a poem about wild geese flying over Prague, or grizzlies at the rain barrel under the dwarf willow trees. We will write, published or not, however we may, like Phillis Wheatley, of the terror and the hungering and the quandaries of our African lives on this North American soil. And as long as we study white literature, as long as we assimilate the English language and its implicit English values, as long as we allude and defer to gods we "neither sought nor knew," as long as we…remain the children of slavery, as long as we do not come of age and attempt, then to speak the truth of our difficult maturity in an alien place, then we will be beloved, and sheltered, and published.

But not otherwise. And yet we persist.

I've written quite extensively about racism in the publishing industry and the risks and rewards of self-publishing. But when aspiring authors ask me how to deal with rejection, I tell them to persist: Keep writing. Get your work done so that when the moment arrives, you'll be ready. Study the industry, know what you're up against. But don't surrender your voice. You may have to adjust your expectations, and you may find yourself forming unexpected alliances. But stay in the game and stand with others who are trying to change the rules.

In a couple of weeks the publishing industry will convene in NYC for the annual BookExpo America. My goal now—in between self-publishing a new novel and finishing a new manuscript—is to replicate the UK Publishing Equalities Charter proposed by the Diversity in Publishing Network (DIPNET).

emerging

I don't drink, and that means I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've been inside a bar. I'm not very social and I'm running on fumes as we near the end of the semester. Yesterday wasn't a good day for me health-wise, but I got myself together and arrived at Franklin Park Bar & Beer Garden for last night's "Myth & Magic" reading. And I'm *so* glad I did! Penina Roth, the fabulous series coordinator and hostess, made me feel at ease and introduced me to many of the local writers and booklovers who were in attendance. I got to meet and enjoy the readings given by my fellow authors, including Canadian Alexi Zentner who gave me sound advice on how to get noticed by the literary powers that be in Canada. When it was my turn to read I stood instead of perching on the stool and tried to remember to *look* at the audience—which was hard b/c of the bright light aimed right at my eyes. But even if I couldn't see people's faces, I could sense that they were listening. Sometimes Wish feels old to me—after all, I wrote it more than seven years ago. But when you read aloud and bring your words to life, you realize how much you still care about your characters and how they rely on you to let them breathe and speak in the world. Last night I decided not to read the entire section I'd prepared and by the time I sat down and let my eyes get used to the bar's dim lighting, several people had come up to talk about the book. I signed one copy purchased immediately by an enthusiastic reader, and met another woman who had seen me read before and invited me to contribute to her YA anthology on bullying. We took a group photo, I thanked Penina, and then walked home. If you're a writer, do consider submitting your work for a future reading—the bar is newly renovated, it has an outdoor space, and you can grab a burger if you're hungry. I plan to go back with friends—being social isn't easy for me, but it's almost always worth the effort. Writers need readers, and it's easy for me to forget that part of my job as an author is to introduce my characters to the "real world." I've got the latest proof of One Eye Open and imagined myself reading that novel aloud to an audience at Franklin Park in the future…

On Sunday I had the pleasure of meeting an editor from Ms.—the only magazine I subscribe to! I'm hoping to write something for their blog on what it means to be an ethical author. But right now I've got grading to do…

achieving equity in publishing

Sometimes my students save me. I can get mired in my own thoughts and it really helps to be drawn out, to stop ruminating and start reflecting. This past week we had some really interesting conversations about the death of Osama bin Laden, the memorialization of traumatic events, and reparations. Then I saw on Facebook that Sarah Park posted the reading list for her course on Social Justice in Children's/YA Literature. I've got so much reading to do! So this morning I woke up wanting to revisit the issue of equity in publishing. What would it look like? How can it be achieved? How do I, as an author, publish in a way that reflects my commitment to social justice?

Remember my cousin's fabulous explanation of the difference between equity and diversity?

Diversity is when you invite many different kinds of people to sit at your table.  You look for difference in terms of age, race, gender, sexuality, class, ability, ethnicity, etc.  But equity means addressing the fact that some people come to the table without a fork, some have two plates or none at all, some expect to be waited on, and some are more accustomed to doing the serving.  Equity attempts to ensure that everyone can sit down to eat together on terms of equality.

When I look at the publishing industry today, I see an approach that mirrors the diversity efforts on many college campuses. Debbie Reese posted this useful article ("The Invisible Campus Color Line") on Facebook a few weeks back and I shared it with my colleagues at work. There was some resistance, but at least half a dozen educators agreed that we're missing the mark when it comes to institutional equity:

Initially, schools are enthusiastic, pledging their full commitment to ensuring their campuses are free of racial, religious, and gender bias. They willingly participate in surveys that measure students' perceptions of cross-cultural relations on campus. They throw international dinners, sponsor diversity days, and spend weeks writing and refining diversity statements.

But when [EdChange founder Paul Gorski] begins to suggest the work that he believes really counts—reevaluating policies, reallocating budgets, and ultimately challenging the status quo—they stop returning his phone calls. They hire someone new, and they start again. Since student bodies turn over so quickly, it always looks as if the school is making an effort, even if they're actually just treading water.

I think it's safe to say that the publishing industry in the US is "just treading water" when it comes to diversity and equity. And as with college campuses, "Token efforts to 'celebrate diversity'…often amount to little more than marketing stunts." If the dominant group holds a huge banquet every year and after much petitioning finally invites three marginalized people to attend the banquet, that's not equity. If they say, "We love spicy food! Why don't you bring some of your delicious ethnic food for us to sample?" That's not equity. Getting invited might make you feel special, but whatever you bring to the table won't actually alter the power dynamics that determine who holds the banquet, determines the guest list, sets the menu, etc.

But what's actually achieved by NOT showing up at the banquet, or choosing to hold your own private party someplace else? If you show up at the banquet and try to tell the attendees about themselves, you'll be shunned and marginalized even further. If you show up, smile, and "go along to get along," then you're perpetuating the problem. You're upholding—and ultimately affirming—the status quo. Is that the price marginalized folks have to pay to get their books out into the world?

As far as I can tell, the only comprehensive plan to reform the publishing industry comes from the UK group, DIPNET.

The aim of the UK Publishing Equalities Charter is to help promote equality and diversity across UK publishing and bookselling, by driving forward change and increasing access to opportunities within the industry…

For many years the industry has spoken collectively of the need to make publishing more diverse yet has not embarked on an industry wide initiative to resolve this issue. "What is widely suspected about publishing has proven true: the industry remains an overwhelmingly white profession…"

That's true of the big houses and many small presses—even feminist and multicultural publishers. Amazon's expanding its publishing program, but will it transform or mirror the "all-white world" of traditional publishing? Self-publishing is one option, but there are obvious limitations to going it alone. DIPNET offers these steps to achieving equity in the publishing industry—can you see US publishers signing up for this?

SUGGESTED ACTIONS

Wherever possible try to recruit a representative mix of people according to your local demographics. For example 46% of England's ethnic minority population live in London (source: LDA: 'The Competitive Advantage of Diversity', Oct 2005), this should be reflected in organisations based in London.


Provide equality training for all staff on a yearly basis


Set up a staff equalities working group ensuring a good representation of people in the organisation


Create an equality policy that is embedded throughout the organisation in policy, strategy and working practice


Monitor the impact of policies through conducting equality impact assessments


Make all policies transparent by updating them and making them available to all staff (e.g. via the intranet)


Provide equality training for senior managers and board members


Make all job applicants complete an equality monitoring form which are monitored on a regular basis


Take on a trainee from an underrepresented group by hosting a Positive Action Traineeship


Increase recruitment pool by advertising jobs externally instead of informal recruitment methods (e.g. word of mouth)


Develop staff from underrepresented groups by providing training and career development opportunities


Develop a mentoring programme that supports new staff from traditionally underrepresented groups


Develop a mentoring programme that supports staff from traditionally underrepresented groups at transitional career stages


Hold an equality themed brown bag lunch for staff encouraging debate and dialogue amongst colleagues in an informal setting


Attract and recruit more disabled people to your organisation


Score all job applications on the core competencies required for the position to limit the use of informal recruitment methods


Make your sites accessible to all your clients and customers by conducting regular accessibility assessments


Include an equality statement within job advertisements


Ensure that all shortlisted candidates are asked whether they require any 'reasonable adjustments' prior to interview to ensure equal opportunities


Work towards achieving 'Two ticks positive about disabled people' accreditation which guarantees an interview to a candidate with a disability (as defined by the Disability Discrimination Act 2005) and who match the requirements of the person specification


Take part in careers events in order to raise the profile of the industry to traditionally underrepresented groups


Run an equality themed seminar at a book fair


Form a relationship with a local school and run workshops/talks to educate students about the industry


Conduct regular surveys to identify satisfaction levels amongst staff


Make available a cultural calendar for staff to raise awareness of cultural/religious dates throughout the year


Hold a 'Celebrating Equality' day to enable staff the opportunity to find out more about their colleagues in an interactive manner


Wherever possible ensure authentic representation of people from underrepresented groups (e.g. book cover designs, illustrations, marketing material etc.)


Be involved in industry wide collaborations to increase equality in publishing


Take part in yearly industry wide reporting through organisations such as Skillset


Take on flexible working/condensed working hours to support those with caring responsibilities


Bridge the gender gap by encouraging and training more women into management and senior management positions


Bridge the ethnicity gap by encouraging and training more people from diverse ethnic groups into management and senior management positions


Host an open day so that the general public can find out more about your organisation


Encourage members of staff to be involved in seminars/workshops/talks that raise the profile of the industry to traditionally underrepresented groups


Identify an Equalities champion on your board of trustees who can be responsible for monitoring action on equality

Last week a friend sent me this article about living an intellectual life outside of the academy; it's a little pie-in-the-sky, but at least someone's out there looking for alternatives. That's what's needed for the publishing industry…

great day!

We got some very good news yesterday: BIRD has won the West Virginia Children's Choice Award! Last year Diary of a Wimpy Kid won, so I'm really honored that the children found merit in our book. The competition is open to books published within the past three years that meet the literary standards adopted by the Children's Services Division of the American Library Association for Notable Books:

Have high literary merit.
Have qualities of originality, imagination, and vitality.
Have an element of timelessness.
Reflect the sincerity of the author.
Have sound values.
Have a theme of subject worth imparting to and of interest to children.
Have factual accuracy.
Have clarity and readability.
Be appropriate in subject, treatment and format to the age group for which it is intended.

Then I looked on Amazon and noticed that a new review of WISH had been added. It's actually from a teacher who allowed her two students to post these evaluations of my novel:

Review 1: A Wish After Midnight by Zetta Elliot was an interesting book. It is about a girl, Genna, and how she is in a bad neighborhood and she wants out. She gets more than she bargained for when a wish sends her back to 1863. This book gives you a good look at some of the things that happened around the Civil War-era.

When Genna is in the world of 1863, she has to learn to fit in, work, not say what is on her mind, and find a way out. In the book, it shows you how everyone who was not white was treated.

This book has good information about the Civil War and a good story!

Review 2: A Wish After Midnight was an eye-opening book. Even though some parts in the beginning were a little intense, the historical part gives a great view on the start of the Civil War. The main character, Genna, shines a light on the difficulty of being a black girl in the 1800s while continuing to hope and work toward a positive and educated life for herself. This book has so many twists and turns that it keeps you on your toes as you await the next turn of events. A Wish After Midnight is a great segue into thinking about the Civil War because the number of perspectives you get from people with very different backgrounds and ideas. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone 13 or older who is looking for a book that really brings out the tensions and worries of people during the Civil War. From: Books R. Cool

mixed message

I've got a lot in my head these days, so let me start with the basics: there are some important events in the kidlit world that you definitely don't want to miss. Jodie and Colleen shared news of the annual GuysLitWire Book Fair, which enables you to donate books to a library in need. I love this initiative because the school has a say in the process—no one's dumping unwanted or unsold books onto these kids.

The next event was posted by Doret—the Diversity in YA book tour is coming to NYC!  There will be two events in the city with authors Matt de la Peña, Malinda Lo, Kekla Magoon, Neesha Meminger, Cindy Pon, Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich, Rita Williams-Garcia, and Jacqueline Woodson. What a line-up!

Ok, here's where things get sketchy. I'm writing again, and that means I'm spending most of my time inside. Being productive on the inside often means that I'm cranky and/or blue on the outside. Not ideal when I still have to teach 3x a week and otherwise function in "the real world." Last weekend I wrote two thousand words about Nyla, a military brat who likes to call the shots but nonetheless finds herself the victim of sexual assault. On base. I've wanted to write about rape in the military for a while, but wasn't sure how the subject would manifest in my writing. I think I've figured it out—I've got this short piece about Nyla, and it concludes with her stepmother Sachi demanding the kind of justice many victims of sexual assault don't get in the military.

Then I woke up on Monday and learned that Osama bin Laden had been killed in a raid the night before. I looked at all the comments and quotes and links on Facebook and really couldn't think of what to say. I thought about the two classes I was scheduled to teach that afternoon and wondered how I could connect our course material to the breaking news. Then I checked my email inbox and found three photographs from a soldier I met online; I sent him some copies of Wish last year and he shared them with others stationed in Iraq. Ordinarily, I'd immediately post reader photos to my blog, but yesterday just didn't seem like the right day. And the more I looked at the photos—especially the one of a soldier holding up a copy of my book with a machine gun slung across his chest—the stranger it felt. What did I expect when I sent those books to Iraq? I wanted to "support the troops" and so I sent books and then Xmas decorations when the holidays rolled around. It felt like a sincere gesture, so why do I now have a problem posting those photos on my blog? You can't "support the troops" but only imagine them sipping egg nog in the mess hall. I can't post the "neutral" photos on my blog and withhold the image of the solider with the book AND the gun. So the photos are still sitting in my inbox.

Over the weekend I watched a movie about conscientious objectors to the war in Iraq; I listened to two soldiers (one active, one discharged) talk about hypocrisy. Are you a hypocrite if you insist on the right to object to war yet refuse to acknowledge that that right is defended by those willing to bear arms? The active soldier said, "What would have happened in WWII if soldiers hadn't taken up arms and fought the Nazis?" And the conscientious objector responded by saying, "What if more German soldiers had laid down their arms and refused to follow orders they knew were unjust?" The active soldier insisted there would never be enough conscientious objectors to end war; in this country we rely upon volunteers who are willing to risk their lives by joining the armed forces. Osama bin Laden is dead and that was brought about by highly trained Navy Seals. Would we need Navy Seals if there were no terrorists? It's a chicken & egg type of question. And the reality is, we can't ever get back to the moment/place where war wasn't necessary. When school girls have acid thrown on them in Afghanistan, I don't have a problem with US soldiers and guns. But when women soldiers are raped by fellow soldiers? I don't know what to do about the military. My older brother was in the reserves and I remember being so proud of him in his uniform. I never saw him with a gun. I never asked if he served alongside women. Now I have too many questions…

writing rape

I'm waiting for the latest proof of One Eye Open to arrive. During our self-publishing event in Toronto last month, someone asked us to break down the steps involved in publishing your own book. I tried to explain that the steps change with each book because you're accumulating more and more knowledge. They're now considering removing the proof option on Create Space, but I can't imagine why you'd want your book to go up for sale before you had a chance to look it over. At first I was excited about shooting my own photo for the book cover, but then found out my camera's automatically set to low-res so had to do it over on high-res. Fortunately, Cidra knew a professional photographer and Valerie ended up doing the shoot for me. Next I selected the photo, cropped it, boosted the color, and sent it to a photolab to be retouched. The lab technician's first question was, "Want me to make her lighter?" NO! The retouched photo came back a few days later and I think it's stunning, but still worried that the technician might have gone against my instructions. Representing women faithfully is really important to me. I've been writing this weekend and there's a new kind of anxiety stirring within: if I create a female character who's questioning her sexuality, is it a mistake to also make her a victim of sexual assault? I can recall all the times I've taught The Color Purple and had students insist that Celie was "turned into a lesbian" by the abuse she suffered at the hands of her stepfather. At the same time, I think it's important to show that *all* children are vulnerable to abuse. In God Loves Hair, Vivek Shraya includes a disturbing but important scene where his child narrator is abused by a man while at an ashram. Although he's been warned about the man, the child—an aspiring religious devotee—sees in the adult the same loneliness and alienation he has experienced at school: "I look at him on the bed, sad and hunched over, like the last one to get picked for a team. I know that feeling. He is my brother, I tell myself." Unfortunately, the child's empathy leads to exploitation. His religious community is one place where the narrator feels accepted—even admired because of his exemplary singing during prayers. At school, it's an entirely different experience. Children who are bullied and/or isolated are made more vulnerable to abuse. Yet my character, Nyla, is something of a bully herself and is still victimized by an older teenage boy. The result is perhaps the same: Shraya's narrator and Nyla are both likely to be blamed for the abuse. You led him on, you went with him, you asked for it. I need to do some more research on this. In One Eye Open, the main character is a rape survivor who meets her best friend, Vinetta, in a support group for victims of sexual abuse. Nina's response to the rape is to shut herself off and avoid men entirely; Vinetta takes an opposite approach and engages in (sometimes risky) sexual behavior with women and men. Her bisexuality frightens Nina who can't imagine herself as a sexual being with the right to make a wide range of choices; she's trying to play it safe but that only binds Nina to the past. In my class we talk about Toni Morrison's definition of freedom: "choice without stigma." For Yvette Christianse, freedom is "not having fear." We're reading Unconfessed this week, which is a fictional narrative of an enslaved woman jailed on Robben Island for taking the life of her enslaved son. Imprisoned in several jails, Sila is raped repeatedly by guards and yet offers very few details, choosing to focus instead on the children conceived through rape. Sila won't be defined as a beast, a drunkard, a murderer. She is a mother, a friend, a daughter and she clings to the memories that reinforce these identities. But she can't shut out the vuilgoed, the filth. Sometimes teaching this material helps my own writing, but sometimes it wears me OUT.

Myth & Magic

I hope you can join us for a night of "Myth and Magic." In response to our world of natural disasters, strife and chaos, writers ALEXI ZENTNER (Touch), HELEN PHILLIPS (And Yet They Were Happy), ZETTA ELLIOTT (A Wish After Midnight), ANTHONY TOGNAZZINI (I Carry A Hammer In My Pocket For Occasions Such As These), and NED THIMMAYYA (Old Ghost Stories) present an alternate reality of time travel, witches, ghosts, and monsters.

The details:

FRANKLIN PARK READING SERIES — "Myth and Magic Night"

Monday, May 9, 8-10pm

Franklin Park Bar and Beer Garden

618 St. Johns Place, between Franklin and Classon Avenues

Crown Heights, Brooklyn

FREE; $4 pints

ONGOING SCHEDULE: Second Mondays

Subway: 2/3/4/5 trains to Franklin Avenue

ALEXI ZENTNER is the author of the debut novel Touch. His fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in The Atlantic Monthly, Tin House, Glimmer Train, Narrative, The Walrus, Slice Magazine, Orion Magazine, on FiveChapters.com, and in other publications. His short story "Touch," which inspired his novel, was awarded a 2008 O. Henry Prize and his story "Trapline" won the 2008 Narrative Prize. He holds an MFA from Cornell University and lives in Ithaca, New York with his family.



HELEN PHILLIPS is the author of the debut novel And Yet They Were Happy and the recipient of a Rona Jaffe Foundation Writer's Award, the Meridian Editors' Prize, and the Italo Calvino Prize in Fabulist Fiction. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in PEN America, Brooklyn Magazine, Mississippi Review, Sonora Review, Salt Hill, and L Magazine, among others, and in the anthology American Fiction: The Best Previously Unpublished Short Stories by Emerging Authors. She received her MFA from Brooklyn College, where she now teaches undergraduate creative writing and administers the MFA program. Originally from Colorado, she lives in Brooklyn with her husband, artist Adam Thompson.

ZETTA ELLIOTT is the author of the novel A Wish After Midnight and a poet, essayist, and playwright.  Her poetry has been published in the Cave Canem anthology, The Ringing Ear: Black Poets Lean South, Check the Rhyme: an Anthology of Female Poets and Emcees, and Coloring Book: an Eclectic Anthology of Fiction and Poetry by Multicultural Writers. Her essays have appeared in The Black Arts Quarterly, thirdspace, WarpLand, and Rain and Thunder.  She won the 2005 Honor Award in Lee & Low Books' New Voices Contest and published a picture book, Bird, in 2008. Her play Nothing but a Woman was a finalist in the Chicago Dramatists' Many Voices Project. She lives in Brooklyn.



ANTHONY TOGNAZZINI is the author of I Carry A Hammer In My Pocket for Occasions Such As These, a collection of prose poems and short fictions. His work has appeared in Quarterly West, Mississippi Review, Denver Quarterly, Swink, Pindeldyboz, Puerto del Sol, Quick Fiction, the Alaska Quarterly Review, and other journals, and in Sudden Stories: A Mammoth Anthology of Minuscule Fiction. He was born in California and has lived in Texas, the Philippines, Spain, Germany, Indiana, and the Czech Republic. He lives in Brooklyn.



NED THIMMAYYA is a writer, law student, and former rapper.  His work has appeared in the Foundling Review, Up the Beanstalk, and is forthcoming in the Brooklyn Journal of International Law. He has written a short story collection, Old Ghost Stories, and is currently working on a new story collection and a novel. He has also written and recorded three rap albums: The Leap, Empire State, and The T-Notebook. Originally from Kinderhook, NY, he now lives in Crown Heights.

About the Franklin Park Reading Series:

Launched in March 2009, the Franklin Park Reading Series is held every second Monday at the Franklin Park Bar and Beer Garden in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. We feature emerging and established fiction writers, memoirists, poets, storytellers, and comedians (and the occasional musician). Whenever possible, we draw from the local talent pool. And we love to showcase a wide range of voices, reflecting the diversity of the Crown Heights community.

The series has been recommended by the New York Times, the New Yorker, New York Magazine, Time Out, the Village Voice, New York Press, The Brooklyn Paper, and other publications. The L Magazine gave the Franklin Park Reading Series a 2011 Brooklyn Bar Award for "best readings."

Books are sold through the Prospect Heights independent bookstore Unnameable Books.

Can't wait to see you!

Penina

Navigating the Great White North

Navigating the Great White North: Representing Blackness in

Canadian Young Adult Literature

In the interest of disclosure I must begin with an admission: I write books for children. I'm black, I'm Canadian, I'm an award-winning author, but I've never been able to get a book published in Canada. I struggle here in the US as well, but I have nonetheless managed to find an audience for my poetry, plays, essays, and books for young readers. This essay began as a blog post and then evolved into a conference paper that I never got the chance to deliver; I have decided to post it here on my blog in order to promote and/or provoke conversation in advance of a multicultural children's literature conference to be held at York University in 2012.  I am not a children's literature scholar; I come to this field as a frustrated author, an activist blogger, and an advocate for equity in the arts and education.

In fall 2009 I reached my tipping point. After spending just one year as a fledgling member of the ever-expanding "kidlit" blogosphere, I poured my accumulated rage and frustration into an open letter to the children's publishing industry. How could it be that with two black girls now living in the White House, African and African American authors are credited with just 2% of the five thousand books published for children in the US each year?[i] Marginalization is not a new experience for me, and so I found myself invoking—once again—this unfortunate aspect of my Canadian childhood:

I grew up in Canada in a semi-rural community on the outskirts of Toronto; I grew up without any stories that featured children of color, save the extraordinary books of Ezra Jack Keats. In a country that regularly boasts of its commitment to multiculturalism, I grew up not dreaming in color, and the first picture book story I ever wrote featured a white protagonist. I grew up never knowing black people could write books; I never met a black author or illustrator, and I suspect that most children in Canada are living that same sad reality today (thirty years later). (Elliott, "Open Letter")

I have lived in the United States for the past fifteen years and when I confront racism here, I invariably think of Canada's multicultural rhetoric and the broken promises that helped to drive me across the border.[ii] As Louise Saldanha asserts, "despite multicultural exertions to the contrary," people of color often experience Canada as "a place of non-belonging, a place not-home" (131). When they learn that I am Canadian, some Americans question my decision to emigrate and it isn't always easy to explain why I chose to leave the wealthy, socially progressive land of my birth. It can be hard to make others understand how the golden tale (or Olympic spectacle) of multiculturalism actually "disguises Canadian realities through declamations pronouncing us as all equally ethnic, declamations that make cultural and racial inequities appear not part of Canada" (Saldanha 130).

Despite the persistent delusion (held by a tiny minority) that the US is now "post-racial," I think most Americans understand that racism is an ongoing, unresolved dilemma. My online plea for greater diversity in children's literature garnered some sympathetic responses, but it did not magically transform the policies and practices that exclude most black people from the publishing arena. Here in the US, it's a topic some folks would rather not discuss, including many authors of color who are still struggling to gain a foothold in the industry.  The few established authors have no real incentive to rock the boat, and so I often feel like I'm on my own, doomed to repeat this cycle of incredulity, indignation, and resignation.

In Canada, the rhetoric around multiculturalism further complicates efforts to expose and address inequity in publishing. Tania Das Gupta argues that Canadian multiculturalism "has been gradually eroded over the last decade, with inadequate public debate." In earlier times, she contends, "proponents of multiculturalism placed some emphasis on fighting inequities, racism and discrimination, at least rhetorically," but in the post-9/11 era, we increasingly hear "claims that multiculturalism has 'gone astray.'" This point of view is accompanied by a distorted understanding of culture as fixed rather than fluid:

In popular parlance 'culture' in multiculturalism is code for 'non-western' and non-white, much in the same way that ethnicity or 'ethnics' typically refer to non-whites. The erroneous assumption is that new immigrants in Canada (mostly non-white) have culture or 'ethnicity' in contrast to the 'mainstream' or 'normal Canadians'. In this social construction, those belonging to non-western cultures are socially produced as not fully belonging to the nation, as not fully Canadian. (Das Gupta)

It seems as if this misunderstanding of multiculturalism dominates the Canadian children's publishing industry. I detect a disturbing focus on people of color who are represented as distinctly not Canadian, not living within the country's borders, and not active in the current historical moment; blacks specifically are imagined as foreigners and/or figures from the distant past rather than established/integrated members of the national "mosaic." This misrepresentation persists despite (or perhaps because of) the demographic shift in the country's major cities:

When Canada marks the 150th anniversary of Confederation in 2017, one in five Canadians will be a racialised minority. And projections show that by 2031, racialised minorities will make up 63 percent of Toronto's, 54 percent of Vancouver's and 31 percent of Montreal's population. (Smith)

Yet instead of reflecting this racially diverse nation, books for young readers published in Canada during the first decade of the twenty-first century paint a picture of a country devoid of black citizens. My examination of Canadian middle grade and young adult novels by or about blacks reveals a curious preoccupation with slavery. Of the 26 novels published since 2000, 9 are written by black authors and 17 by white authors; 3 of the 9 black-authored novels are on the subject of slavery, 2 are set in contemporary Africa, and 3 are set in the Caribbean (2 are contemporary, 1 is historical). Only 1 book, I Have Been in Danger (Coteau Books, 2001), is set in contemporary Canada; this middle grade novel by Cheryl Foggo features two biracial sisters who find adventure during an overnight camping trip in Calgary.[iii]

Of the 17 novels written by whites, 10 are historical (9 are set in the era of slavery); 6 are set in Africa (5 contemporary, 1 historical), and one contemporary novel (Jakeman by Deborah Ellis) is set in the United States.  What does this tell us about the way black children figure in the (white) Canadian imagination? In most of these white-authored novels, black youth appear as fugitive and/or former slaves or as impoverished Africans grappling with violence and disease. Why is it so difficult for authors of any race to situate black teens in contemporary Canada? Why do so many authors prefer to see blacks as "eternal slaves" seeking sanctuary in "the promised land?" And what effect does the erasure of black teens from the contemporary Canadian landscape have on young readers? Rudine Sims Bishop argues that children of all races suffer when they are deprived of a range of stories that reflect diverse realities:

   When children cannot find themselves reflected in the books they read, or when the images they see are distorted, negative, or laughable, they learn a powerful lesson about how they are devalued in the society of which they are a part…

Children from dominant social groups have always found their mirrors in books, but they, too, have suffered from the lack of availability of books about others. They need the books as windows onto reality, not just on imaginary worlds. They need books that will help them understand the multicultural nature of the world they live in, and their place as a member of just one group, as well as their connections to all other humans. In this country, where racism is still one of the major unresolved social problems, books may be one of the few places where children who are socially isolated and insulated from the larger world may meet people unlike themselves. If they see only reflections of themselves, they will grow up with an exaggerated sense of their own importance and value in the world—a dangerous ethnocentrism. (Bishop ix)

Dr. Alvin Curling and Roy McMurtry, authors of the 2008 Roots of Youth Violence report, acknowledge that in cities like Toronto, "Racism is worse than it was a generation ago, while there are fewer resources and structures to counter this great evil than existed in years past" ("Roots of Violence"). Curling and McMurtry also link feelings of invisibility and hopelessness to youth violence:

Youth are coming to believe that their hopes should be as limited as their horizons, that they are not expected to succeed, and that high barriers lie between them and any chance of belonging to the prosperous future we all want for this province. The deepening alienation and the lack of hope or sense of belonging that result damage the lives and prospects of many youth, and powerfully increase the risk that increasing numbers of them will be involved in extreme and unpredictable violence. ("Roots of Violence")

In their Community Perspectives Report, Curling and McMurtry also note that "Visible minorities feel further alienated by a [public school] curriculum that does not reflect the cultural diversity of Ontario and does not engage their interest" (15). When I look back at the books I was exposed to in high school, it's a virtual (American) whitewash: Catcher in the Rye, A Separate Peace, To Kill a Mockingbird, A Streetcar Named Desire, The Great Gatsby. I continue to advocate for change because I cannot accept the idea that children today may be growing up in the same appalling state of ignorance that slowed my emergence as a confident black writer. Today's youth now know that a black man can become president of the United States—but do they know they can become poets, editors, novelists, illustrators, or playwrights? As a teen in Toronto I was bused up to Stratford every other year; I clearly remember studying the plays of Shakespeare at my majority-white high school, but it never once occurred to me that a black person could write or even star in a play. And it wasn't until 2005, after more than half a century, that the Stratford Shakespearean Festival presented Djanet Sears' Harlem Duet, a play that was written, directed, and performed by blacks. Do teens in Toronto today study black playwrights in school?  Do kids of color believe that a future in the arts is possible for them in Canada?

Posting that open letter on my blog did yield some results. Two professors wrote me to say that it would now be required reading in their children's literature classes, and the Editor in Chief of The Horn Book Magazine asked me to write an article. In "Decolonizing the Imagination," I discuss the impact of rarely seeing people of color in the books I read as a child: "Perhaps the one benefit of being so completely excluded from the literary realm was that I had to develop the capacity to dream myself into existence" (16). I also accept partial responsibility for giving up on a future in my homeland: "Many years after leaving Canada, I realized that I never believed anything magical could happen to me there. Whether I attribute that to a failure of my own imagination or to external factors, the result was that my dreams took root in a foreign land" (20).

Yet getting published in the US proved almost as hard as getting published in Canada. In 2008 I finally decided to self-publish my memoir, Stranger in the Family, and my young adult novel, A Wish After Midnight; both had been rejected by US and Canadian publishers alike. That fall, my first picture book was published by Lee & Low, a small multicultural press based in NYC; Bird won numerous awards and honors, but no newspaper in Canada would review it and Chapters Indigo refused to sell it. In 2009, Amazon started its own publishing wing and acquired the rights to A Wish After Midnight. The "new" edition (same book, different cover) was released in February 2010; Wish was featured in USA Today, I was interviewed on radio shows, we got fantastic reviews, and The Huffington Post asked me to blog for them. My first post, "Breaking Down Doors," outlined my long, difficult journey to publication. My second post, "Demanding Diversity in Publishing," proposed that the US follow the UK's lead in adopting a Publishing Equalities Charter (put forward by DIPNET, the Diversity in Publishing Network). I think Canada should do the same.

I appreciate the mission of publishers to promote, preserve, and protect Canadian culture. US cultural imperialism is a very real threat, yet American books were the only ones in my Canadian library that showed black children on the cover. I adored the picture books of Ezra Jack Keats, and in those books (written and illustrated by a white Jewish Brooklynite) I finally found the mirror I craved as a child: "Literature transforms human experience and reflects it back to us, and in that reflection we can see our own lives and experiences as part of the larger human experience. Reading, then, becomes a means of self-affirmation, and readers often seek their mirrors in books" (Bishop ix). Mildred D. Taylor's middle grade novel, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry (Dial 1976) was my introduction to race relations in the Jim Crow South. After reading this book and its sequel, Let the Circle Be Unbroken (Dial, 1981), I penned my first story that did NOT have a white protagonist. Without those books from the US—without television shows from the US, without magazines from the US—I would never have found a mirror for my black female self in Canada. Not in the 1970s and '80s.

In Marlene NourbeSe Philip's middle grade novel, Harriet's Daughter (The Women's Press, 1988), fourteen-year-old Margaret Cruickshank finds herself in a similar predicament. Born in Canada to strict Jamaican and Barbadian parents, Margaret identifies strongly with US black culture. She watches but rejects the perfect, progressive family modeled on The Cosby Show (3); her mother's name, Tina, brings to mind the "cool" rocker Tina Turner (48); and Margaret asks to have her hair braided like the "super-cool" models in Essence magazine (15).  Even Margaret's best friend, Zulma, learned from her Tobagonian grandmother to revere the militant, Afro-wearing activist Angela Davis:

'Gran say de police frame she because dey didn't like she fighting for she people – black people in de United States – and dat it remind she of some of de stories she use to hear about slavery time.  How de owners use to always try and kill or maim people who try to help other slaves…dat is who me would like to be—somebody like Angela Davis,,,and fight for something real important.' (30)

But Margaret identifies most strongly with one particular American: Harriet Tubman, the Underground Railroad conductor she learned about in her Black Heritage class in school. Her initial interest in Mata Hari eventually fades as Margaret becomes more invested in her own ability to transport her unhappy friend Zulma back to Tobago. Zulma desperately misses the grandmother who raised her, and feels insecure in the home her mother has made with a controlling, abusive man. When Margaret learns that she inherited some money from her mother's former employer, a Holocaust survivor, a new plan and identity begin to take shape in Margaret's mind:

     Harriet Tubman. Now she was a sort of spy too, but her work was even more scary. She had to take care of people: babies, men and women – she had to bring them all the way up to Canada, and not get caught. She was carrying secrets too, a different kind of secret – people…Funny she had all those fainting spells, I thought. Harriet, Harriet Tubman, Harriet Blewchamp, again I thought of changing my name to one that meant something – like Harriet. Harriet Tubman was brave and strong and she was black like me. I think it was the first time I thought of wanting to be called Harriet – I wanted to be Harriet. (37)

It is significant, I think, that Margaret and others search outside of Canada or the Caribbean when looking for role models.  Is this an effect of US cultural imperialism, or a result of limited black role models within their countries of origin?[iv] When her father vows to make good on his threat to send feisty, unladylike Margaret to his mother in Barbados for some "Good West Indian Discipline," the teen refuses, insisting, "this is my home" (91). Yet we learn very little about Margaret's investment in the city of Toronto. Early in the novel she mentions her determination to stand up to anyone who calls her "nigger" (14), yet the climate at school is not so hostile that she can't manage to recruit some of her Greek and Italian classmates to play her "Underground Railroad game."  Together the teens take on alternating roles in a dramatic chase that pits runaway slaves and their guides against slave-owners and their dogs. In a way, this bizarre reenactment of black history supplants Margaret's contemporary reality as a black teen in Canada. In her real life, Margaret manages conflict with her family and close friends, but her dream life reverts to the distant past or removes her entirely from Canada.

When the game starts to upset the participants, Margaret calls it off and focuses solely on rescuing Zulma from her unhappy home. To avoid being sent to Barbados, Margaret develops a scheme to runaway to Tobago with Zulma using her mother's secret hoard of cash. The dilemma in both girls' Caribbean households ultimately is resolved by Mrs. B, an older African American woman from Mississippi who married a black Canadian man because "in those days [Canada] sounded so different and exciting" (101). Mrs. B is "always happy" and "really, really large," and constantly plies Margaret with "cookies, cake, ice cream, cobbler" while relating her own unhappy childhood in the Deep South.[v] Mrs. B manages to rally the girls' mothers (or "mammies"); both women defy their domineering husbands and agree to send the girls to Tobago—Margaret for the summer, Zulma for good.

I had graduated from university before I learned of Harriet's Daughter; I was sixteen when it was published, but don't recall seeing it in my school or local public library. Yet even if it had been available, there's no guarantee I would have picked it up—by that point my recreational reading consisted of Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and the Brontës. I'm not sure how I would have reacted to a novel about black teens pretending to be runaway slaves. Mildred D. Taylor's books resonated with my burgeoning interest in race relations and civil rights, and perhaps the feminist message in Harriet's Daughter would have struck a chord. In the neo-slave narratives course I'm currently teaching in New York City, I ask students to recall their first experience learning about slavery; many black students recount feeling embarrassed whenever the subject was raised in their majority-white classrooms.[vi] Regardless of their ethnicity and country of origin, my black students said they felt self-conscious and/or shamed when learning about this continent's history of enslaving, brutalizing, and degrading blacks. A colleague recently informed me that Lawrence Hill's The Book of Negroes (HarperCollins, 2007) may be added to the high school curriculum in Canada. This is welcome news, though it does not correct the imbalance in the representation of blacks living in contemporary Canada.

Tania Das Gupta concludes that, "multiculturalism in Canada has room for improvement," and a sector by sector analysis of diversity in leadership roles in Toronto reveals just how far we still have to go to create a more just society.  According to DiverseCity: The Greater Toronto Leadership Project, "Only 14 per cent of the top jobs in the GTA are held by visible minorities," and "Within the Toronto media, only 4.8 per cent of editors, senior management and board members are visible minorities" (Agrell). With so few people of color in decision-making roles, perhaps it is not surprising that of the 500 children's books published in Canada annually, an average of two are written by blacks (Table 1). Are manuscripts set in contemporary Canada being rejected by publishers in favor of stories set in more "exotic" locales, or do they not even exist?[vii] What could explain this silence from writers in the black Canadian community?

My mother's African American ancestors arrived in Ontario in 1820; my father's Caribbean parents moved to Toronto in the 1950s. Black people have been part of Canada for hundreds of years; surely there are many stories to be told of the lives they created in the Great White North.[viii] In the US, women writers are responsible for the majority of black-authored MG/YA novels.[ix] It's hard for me to name any contemporary black female authors in Canada—there's no Canadian equivalent of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie or Zadie Smith or Heidi Durrow (bestselling writers under 40). So perhaps the lack of MG/YA novels has something to do with the larger absence of black women novelists from the Canadian literary scene. And perhaps that has something to do with the lack of blacks in decision-making roles within the publishing industry and/or the potential bias of editors.[x] As Malinda S. Smith observes,

…the main challenge to achieving equity is not whether we can make it happen. Rather, it is whether we will make it happen. Some institutions are playing the 'wait and hope' game, others are saying, 'yes we can' and others still are showing leadership by saying  'yes we will.'

Does the Canadian publishing industry have the will to change?

In my time-travel novel, A Wish After Midnight, my Afro-Panamanian protagonist haunts the Brooklyn Botanic garden and there finds a portal that leads to the past. Genna and her Rastafarian boyfriend, Judah, are only too aware of the challenges they face as ambitious teens from an impoverished urban neighborhood. When they are sent back in time, both grapple with the racism they encounter in Civil War-era Brooklyn and desperately try to shape a future where they can be free; Genna wants to remain in New York but Judah's goal is to reach Liberia. The whites in my novel are equally complex, their brief moments of heroism dimmed by their unapologetic bigotry. It would be interesting, I think, for students to read A Wish After Midnight alongside some of these Canadian novels of slavery/sanctuary. But that isn't likely to happen since Wish still hasn't been reviewed in any Canadian newspapers, and once again is not being stocked at Chapters Indigo.

I confess, I do often wonder why I've been unable to get published in Canada.  Perhaps my writing fails to be foreign enough. Despite the endless efforts to differentiate Canada from the United States, perhaps the urban worlds I create aren't sufficiently different from the city spheres occupied by teens in Toronto, Montreal, or Vancouver. Louise Saldanha writes that notions of "'home' and 'away' centrally occupy children's literature in North America," with "away" conventionally marking "the space of forests and similar unsettled, unsettling realms, the zone of strangeness and the zone of insecurity" (129). Perhaps my stories are actually too familiar, generating anxiety around "domestic" blackness, racism, and those teens who claim Canada as their country of origin yet still don't experience it as "home."

TABLE 1

Children's Books By and About Blacks Published in Canada

2000-2010

Year

Number of English-Language Books

Received

at CCBC*

African / Caribbean

African Canadian

By

About

2010

500

3

5

2009

500

6

20

2008

500

3

9

2007

500

2

14

2006

500

4

9

2005

500

2

6

2004

500

2

13

2003

500

2

4

2002

500

2

5

2001

500

2

6

2000

500

2

2

*Canadian Children's Book Centre

[i] These statistics are compiled by the Cooperative Children's Book Center; two Canadian presses, Groundwood and Tundra, submit their books for inclusion in this ongoing study. I was not able to locate an organization in Canada that compiles comparable statistics on the percentage of children's books by and about people of color.  The Canadian Children's Book Centre asserts that, "based on the books that are submitted to our organization, over 500 English-language books are published for children each year in Canada."

[ii] In a 2009 Book Forum article, novelist Victor LaValle writes about his Ugandan mother's experience as a black woman in Canada:  "For college, my mother packed off to Canada. In Kitchener-Waterloo, she was denied housing, mistreated and maligned in school and on the street. Finally, she moved to America to escape the racism."

[iii] I initially thought this book's cover had been "white-washed" but the illustration reflects the racially ambiguous/indeterminate appearance of the mixed-race protagonist, Jackie.

[iv] Cynthia James suggests that Margaret's "adoption of the identity of an African American icon is not as strange as it may seem.  For in their struggles in the metropolis, Blacks in the diaspora identify with Black liberation across nationalities" (54).  Citing Paul Gilroy's theory of "connective culture," James argues that, "These borrowings of cultural identity are unconstrained by questions of national boundaries, since the legacy of a similar slave history, resistance, and mainland-to-island resale and exile of forbears connects the majority of Blacks in the New World" (55).  As a teen, I greatly admired Nelson Mandela but US culture was the dominant influence in my knowledge and performance of blackness.

[v] Another incarnation of the "mammy" stereotype appeared in Trey Anthony's 2005 play Da Kink in My Hair.  My analysis of "Enid" can be found in "Writing the Black (W)hole: Facing the Feminist Void."

[vi] A black student in Ohio was recently in the news after his teacher made him perform in a "mock slave auction," allowing his white classmates to inspect him in their role as slave-owners.

[vii] In an interview with Caribbean Beat magazine, Marlene NourbeSe Philip shares this disturbing story: "Unlike the States, where you have a long tradition going back to Phillis Wheatley, who was a slave poet, in Canada you were actually creating your own audience while you were writing the work. When I finished Harriet's Daughter, for instance, and sent it out, I was told by one of the most prestigious publishing houses there that they liked the writing but they had a problem with the characters being black – which sent me into a tailspin for about a year and a half. If they tell me the writing is bad, I can fix that, but if they tell me they have a problem with the race of the characters it's like telling me they have a problem with my self."

[viii] Leslie Sanders confirms this neglect: "Canada is, of course, embedded in the slavery to freedom narrative as the destination for American fugitives, and as the terminus of the Underground Railroad on which so many of them traveled.  After the American Civil War many returned to the United States; however, the fate of those who stayed in Canada, their subsequent history has been obscured, leaving not only popular but even supposedly knowledgeable opinion as unable to account for the presence of black people in Canada except as the result of recent immigration." Rinaldo Walcott concurs: "when black life in Canada is even given a nod it is now dressed up in immigration studies and transnational studies, but still with little interests in the actual black communities here."

[ix] For a list of MG/YA novels published by black authors in the US in 2010, see "The Grim Reality" at my blog, Fledgling.

[x] Children's literature scholar Laura Atkins has written about her experience as an editor at two multicultural presses where the bias of white editors impacted the publication of stories written by authors of color.  See "White Privilege and Children's Publishing."

Works Cited

Agrell, Siri.  "Diversity not reflected in leadership roles, group says."  Theglobeandmail.com. The Globe and Mail, 8 Feb. 2011.  Web.  8 Mar. 2011.

Allen-Agostini, Lisa.  "Paradise Comes with a Price."  Caribbean Beat, Issue No. 105. Sept./Oct. 2010. Web. 9 Mar. 2011.

Atkins, Laura.  "White Privilege and Children's Publishing."  Write4Children, Vol. I, Issue II. The University of Winchester, n.d. Web. 9 Mar. 2011.

Bishop, Rudine Sims.  "Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors." In Perspectives: Choosing and Using Books for the Classroom.  Vo. 6, no. 3. Summer 1990: ix-xi.  Print.

Curling, Alvin and Roy McMurtry.  "Roots of violence grow in toxic soil of social exclusion." TheStar.com. The Toronto Star, 15 Nov. 2008.  Web. 8 Mar. 2011.

_____. Community Perspectives Report, Vol. 3, Section 1: 1-56.  Ontario Ministry of Children and Youth Service, n.d. Web. 7 Mar. 2011.

Das Gupta, Tania. "Canadian multiculturalism and social inclusion."  FEDCAN blog.  Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, 4 Mar. 2011.  Web.  8 Mar. 2011.

Elliott, Zetta. "Decolonizing the Imagination."  The Horn Book Magazine.  Vol. LXXXVI, Number 2: 16-20.  Print.

_____. "Something Like an Open Letter to the Children's Publishing Industry." Fledgling blog.  WordPress, 5 Sept. 2009.  Web.

_____. "Writing the Black (W)hole: Facing the Feminist Void." thirdspace.ca. Center for Women's and Gender Studies/UBC, Winter 2006.  Web.

James, Cynthia.  "Performing West Indian Childhood across Oceans and Time: Gender andIdentity in Marlene Nourbese Philip's Harriet's Daughter, Merle Hodge's For the Life of Laetitia, and Cyril Dabydeen's Sometimes Hard."  Canadian Children's Literature 33.1 (2007): 41-65.  Print.

LaValle, Victor. "Beyond the Skin Trade."  Bookforum.com.  Book Forum, Apr./May 2009.Web.  9 Mar. 2011.

Philip, Marlene NourbeSe.  Harriet's Daughter.  Toronto: The Women's Press, 1988.  Print.

Saldanha, Louise. "White Picket Fences: At Home with Multicultural Children's Literature in Canada?"  Home Words: discourses of children's literature in Canada.  Ed. By Mavis Reimer.  Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 2008.  129-144.  Print.

Sanders, Leslie.  "Surprising Narratives: African Canadian Autobiography." The State of African American Studies: Methodology, Pedagogy, and Research.  CUNY Graduate Center. New York, NY.  8 Jan. 2011.  Conference presentation.

Smith, Malinda S.  "Leading on equity and diversity matters: Yes we can, and yes we will!" FEDCAN blog.  Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, 5 Jan. 2011.  Web.  8 Mar. 2011.

Walcott, Rinaldo.  "Multiculturalism, the Canadian academy and the impossible dream of Black Canadian Studies." Canada Watch. The Robarts Centre for Canadian Studies, Fall 2009: 22-23.  Web.  8 March 2011.

virtual/reality

I owe this blog to Shadra Strickland; when Bird first came out in late 2008, she insisted that I start a blog and I reluctantly agreed. Now I can't imagine being a writer without a blog, and it has been through the blogosphere that I've started to build a community north of the border. I have a LOT of family in Toronto, and I owe my improving relationship with that city to their generosity, love, and support. They put me up (and put up with me), they ply me with food, they drive me all over the city, and do whatever they can to make my occasional visits more enjoyable and less stressful. I got quite a few free meals while I was up in Toronto last week, and I really appreciate all the laughter that came with those meals. I got to spend a little time with my cousin's son, Kodie; he was the first kid reader of Ship of Souls, and the book is dedicated to him. It's for all the kids in Canada, really, who are waiting to find a book that can serve as a mirror/window/sliding glass door (as per Rudine Sims Bishop).  Kodie's childhood is a lot like mine in some ways—I never won a gold medal with my hockey team, but I grew up in a predominantly white community and didn't have any black role models at my school. I didn't have a black educator until my last semester of my last year of college. When I finally discovered African American literature, I didn't see it as compatible with my own country and so I left; I returned, tried to publish my own writing, failed miserably, and left again. I want children of color in Canada to grow up dreaming about a fabulous future for themselves within those borders. Or rather, I don't want them to feel bound to a place that stifles their ability to dream. I feel much better about Kodie's prospects now that I've met some folks online who are doing great work in Canada: like writer/reviewer Niranjana Iyer who started Women Doing Literary Things and Nayani Thiyagarajah who worked with other young women of color to make the important film, Shadeism. I hope other artists will follow Vivek Shraya's lead and ensure that LGBTQ youth see themselves in books. And I hope there will always be a place like the Toronto Women's Bookstore—a home for books like mine, and a safe space for people and ideas that aren't always welcome or validated elsewhere. The store's owner, Victoria Moreno, took some great photos of our 4/21 event; if you're in Toronto, please support the women's bookstore—several of my books are in stock there alongside many other important books from writers who share a feminist vision of the world. Pictured below: me, Neesha Meminger, Vivek Shraya, and Annemarie Shrouder.

bittersweet

We had a full house at the Toronto Women's Bookstore last night!  Thanks to everyone who made the event a success—our host, Victoria; our moderator, Annmarie; my fellow panelists, Neesha and Vivek, and all the folks in the audience who came with smart questions and observations.  I hope we were able to provide some insight into self-publishing, though things are changing so quickly.  It was heartening to see so many people who are ready to take the plunge and put their work out there into the world…yet it was frustrating to meet a beautiful young black writer who hasn't really got any role models in Canada.  She adores Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (so do I!) but she deserves a role model from her generation who's writing and publishing in her own country.  How do you know what's possible for your life if you can't see someone else doing it already?  I need to sit down and write out my thoughts on equity versus diversity.  I asked my cousin to explain the distinction to a hypothetical undergrad and she said something like this:

Diversity is when you invite as many different kinds of people to sit at your table.  You look for difference in terms of age, race, gender, sexuality, class, ability, ethnicity, etc.  But equity means addressing the fact that some people come to the table without a fork, some have two plates or none at all, some expect to be waited on, and some are more accustomed to doing the serving.  Equity attempts to ensure that everyone can sit down to eat together on terms of equality.

So what would equity in publishing look like?  Maybe I'll try to get some writing done this morning.  I forgot the cable for my camera so I can't upload any photos, but do check out the Facing Out live stream site if you want to watch last night's conversation.  Or maybe I can actually figure out how to embed it here.  Or not.  Sorry!  But there's a summary at the FacingOut blog.