Twitter lit up yesterday with some hashtag called
#WeNeedDiverseBooks. Or maybe I
simply noticed it yesterday … I don’t spend a lot of time on Twitter, and
lately I’ve been immersed in putting together a workshop for writers interested
in adding cultural diversity to their children’s books. Which might explain why this caught my attention.
The half of me which could pass as “diverse” felt her skin
crawl as I scrolled through all the posts.
I applaud the intention, really I do, of those who want to
raise awareness about the appalling lack of “characters of color” in mainstream
publishing today. Let’s just put
it out there: of 3,200 children’s
books published in 2013, just 93 were about black people. The numbers get worse when you look at
Latinos, Asians, Native Americans … and when those sorts of characters do
appear, they are often as representative figures from historical legacies about
the civil rights movement or slavery or the Trail of Tears. Or kids books about Cinco de Mayo. Or World War II Japanese relocation
sagas.
The only thing possibly worse than the numbers are the
cardboard-cut-out depictions of non-white characters as downtrodden victims, as
“other,” as “different-but-still-cool.”
In our admirable quest to write “diverse” books, we need to
be wary of creating the Separate But Equal Minority Genre. We need to be careful that we don’t
inadvertently intensify notions of “otherness.” That we don’t create black/Hispanic/Asian/Arab characters
who are "shining examples" of diversity.
That we do, as Walter Dean Myer’s urges us to do, in his essay published
in the New York Times this past March, depict characters who are “an integral
and valued part of the mosaic” of our shared American culture.
I recently stumbled upon the phrase, “everyday
diversity.” It was used by a
children’s librarian in Hennepin County, Minnesota, who has put together lists
of children’s books which she believes are diverse as a matter-of-course. Books in which the protagonists might
be non-white … but their non-whiteness is not the subject of the book. The books are about making friends,
getting into college, losing a tooth, visiting Grandma … and the characters
doing all these things just happen to be named Abdullah or Jose.
Everyday diversity doesn’t ignore culture and race. It relegates culture and race to adjectives,
to parts of the complex background which define and enrich character, which adds
depth to our characters without siloing them as “the black” or “the Native
American” or “the Muslim.”
One of my favorite authors, the young adult novelist,
Francisco Stork, does this brilliantly.
Stork’s characters are of Mexican descent, but that cultural detail is
imbedded in his stories. It’s one
of many moving parts in complex depictions of well-wrought characters who defy
stereotypes. Read Marcelo in the
Real World to see what I mean.
The writer Julia Alvarez puts it
this way: “Stories are about the big circle, the gathering of the different
tribes of the human family. Getting down into ethnic/racial bunkers of
literature totally negates what stories are about.”
In those two sentences, Alvarez
embodies the goal … and the challenge … of writing any fiction, but especially for writing for young people
today.
Here's the hashtag I prefer: #EverydayDiversity
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