Mitali Perkins – Becky Levine

So I just signed up for the Saturday session of KidLitCon, which is going to be held in Sacramento this October. Yay! I can manage on just one hotel night and some caffeine for the late night drive home. I’ve been wanting to go to this for years, and I was waiting for it to come to our neighborhood. Thanks so much to Jen Robinson of Jen Robinson’s Book Page and Tanita Davis and Sarah Stevenson of Finding Wonderland for pulling this all together.

I thought, for a Saturday Six, I’d do six reasons that I want to attend this year.

1. You may have noticed I don’t appear at my blog all that often these days, although I’ve been trying to shift back lately. I’m feeling like I need a new burst of blog energy, and where better to get that at a conference for kidlit bloggers?

2. I am a huge fan of Jen Robinson’s Book Page and, even more, of Jen’s commitment to literacy and reading and all things kids books. Anything she’s a part of is going to be good.

3. Mitali Perkins will be Saturday’s keynote speaker. Since I got started with blogs, Mitali has been challenging us to think outside our auto-perspectives, to stretch our writing and reading, and I want to hear what she has to say. It’s going to be important.

4. I’m feeling like I want my blog to be facing out a bit more for a while, less directed–as they say–at my own navel. The theme for this year’s conference is “Blogging Diversity in Young Adult and Children’s Lit: What’s Next? I posted about #weneeddiversebooks early on in the movement, and I’ve definitely been reading more diverse books, but if I’m doing it just for me, then–really–I’m doing it too quietly. Maybe this is the “out” I want to face.

5. Kind of a corollary to #3 is that I talk a lot about writing at my blog and, often, about writing for kids. But, you know, I wouldn’t be a writer if it weren’t for the kids’ book that made me fall in deep, deep love with the whole reading thing when I was little and that keep me reading in that genre years after I’ve given up jumping rope, trying to keep a hula hoop above my ankles, and writing angsty 12-year-old thoughts into my diary. Kid Lit gives me air to breathe and passion to create. I’m pretty sure that, at the conference, I won’t be the only one who feels that way.

6. This program. And this list of attendees.

I read Varian Johnson’s post, “Where are all the black boys?” earlier this week, when people were linking to it all over Facebook. If you haven’t read it yet, you can see it at Varian’s blog, here. It’s one of those posts that has stayed with me, partially–of course, because it’s so important and Varian shows the problem and his feelings about it so beautifully. But, also, I think, because there are so many questions in the post, one question in particular–which I’ll get to later–that I can’t find any answer to.

I’m going to talk first about my own reaction to the post and to many of the excellent posts I read about multi-culturalism. Basically, I feel part of the privileged group–the white American girl who grew up in a safe, sheltered environment; who tucked herself consciously into that safe, sheltered environment and was happy there. I have always been able to find myself in books–basically, you could build a tower as tall as the Washington Monument about us shy, reader girls who don’t feel popular and would rather curl up with a book than venture out into the world. Yeah, that’s me. Except, of course, in those books, those girls always find themselves in a situation where they have to step out of their comfort zone, and I never, really did. Yes, I’m Jewish, and no, there aren’t that many books about Jewish-American girls today, at least not that I know of, but I grew up in a completely non-practicing family, of which many members had also grown up not-practicing and not necessarily believing for a generation or two before me. I still don’t practice any form of religion, Jewish or otherwise. So the Jewish girl who’s written about as a practicing, even semi-religious character just isn’t my “me,” if that makes sense. I can find my grandparents and great-grandparents, and my mom, in some excellent historical fiction–for adults and kids–if/when I want. I guess, if I were looking for a more specific me than that white, sheltered girl, I’d look for an atheist girl growing up in a very non-atheist world. I look around my brain and heart and ask if I mind that I don’t find that story, and–for myself–I guess I’m okay with that. Maybe I shouldn’t be?

All that is just to explain why/how, when I read Varian’s post, I feel like I’m a bit on the outside looking in. I feel sad and angry and frustrated, but as someone seeing this stuff happen (or not happen) to another person, not to me. I’ve had the same feeling, reaction ,when I’ve read and contributed to some of the excellent posts on multi-cultural writing at Mitali Perkins’ blog, Mitali’s Fire Escape. I’m not sure whether that actually makes any difference in how I respond or how I should respond, but I do think it’s part of my perspective.

Anyway, what I do know is that it matters what I do about it. It matters what we all do about it. Except…

I don’t know what that is. I don’t know what I, we, can do to change the uneven, unfair representation in books of so many peoples, so many populations. Is this misrepresentation even just happening in books for kids? I’m guessing not, but I really don’t read enough “adult” books to have an opinion.

Whatever. The question is, what can we do?

Buy the books that are written with non-white characters? I do that. Not just because I should, but because I’m always on the lookout for a good MG or YA story. Also because I like to explore worlds and cultures and people who are different from me. Like I said, I can pick up a “me” book anytime, anyplace. With ease. I like something new and different. Buy these books for our kids? Did. Do. Check out these books from our libraries? Request that our libraries purchase them? Did, do, again. Possibly, on this one, not often enough. (Note to self: Send more requests to librarians.) Talk about the topic and the books on our blogs and in social media? Did. Do. Doing.

What else? It just doesn’t seem like enough, not enough to actually make a change. I know, I know, a drop of water can wear away a stone, but…IT TAKES FOREVER. Varian says he’s worried about his daughter, and his nieces, and his nephew. I’m worried about them, too. I’m worried that our kid will still be fighting this battle for their kids, and so on, and so on.

What do you think? What else can we do? What do you do? And do you think it’s actually going to work?

Trying not be discouraged. Trying to find a sweet spot in the fact that Varian’s post is making its way around and that we are all at the very least talking about this. It just feels like a relatively small sweet spot.

Thoughts? Comments?

Tag: Mitali Perkins

Saturday Six: KidLitCon

Thoughts on Varian Johnson’s Post, “Where are all the black boys?”