ATL

As the plane landed at LaGuardia this afternoon, giant snowflakes started falling from the gray sky…it was lovely, and a nice distraction as we waited to be let off the plane.  Then the snow started falling faster, and in an instant we were caught in a blizzard!  By the time I got back to Brooklyn, the snow had stopped altogether, but it was nice while it lasted.  I’m still tired, so won’t write a long post–woke at 4am yesterday to catch my 6:30am flight to Atlanta; slept most of the way there, then got off the plane, got my bag, and hopped on MARTA–Atlanta’s very clean, but underutilized public transit system.  I lived in Louisiana for a year, so I know that the South is a whole other universe, but every time I go back, I realize just how different the world is for millions of people around this country.  I’ve never been to the west coast, but whenever I meet people from California, they seem distinct–there’s something about their energy that’s very different from a person who’s been born and raised in NYC.  The South also has its own energy, and what I noticed yesterday is that people are very warm, affectionate, and they use language much differently–sometimes it’s formal, other times it’s funny, but it’s rarely harsh.  I find New Yorkers to be polite, though we have a reputation for being rude and cold; I’ve heard people say that things in the South are s-l-o-w, but it’s more that there’s no discernible sense of panic, there’s more ease, or the rushing doesn’t look like rushing because the space is so spread out, much less dense than in a northern city.  Now that my semester’s over, I don’t have to commute to my job in MA, and I don’t miss the 4.5 hour trip at ALL!  I love taking the subway here in the city, or simply walking wherever I need to go.  I wonder what it would be like growing up in a place where you can’t easily walk around.  Wouldn’t that change the way you relate to others?  I remember being frustrated by the lack of sidewalks in Baton Rouge.  Some neighborhoods had them, but many did not, revealing the city’s privileging of those who have cars.  As we drove around Atlanta, I kept looking at the pine trees and I recalled all the stories I’ve read over the years about Georgia…WEB DuBois walking down a street and seeing the remains of a lynch victim displayed in some shop window…Jean Toomer’s Cane, filled with lush stories and haunting poems about “Negro” folk culture dying out as modernity rolled in.  I even thought of Hustle & Flow, which in many ways embodies the “dirty South” for me–the postindustrial landscape, the pimp with his rims, and ‘hos and disheartening dreams.  And it’s the home of MLK, so of course, I also thought of Dr. King.  As I talked to the students about my YA novel, A Wish after Midnight, I found myself citing Georgia as one of the three states with the highest number of recorded lynchings.  The students looked as though they hadn’t heard that information before, and suddenly I felt irresponsible…you can’t spring that on teenagers in a fifteen-minute presentation–which was supposed to be about self-publishing!  That kind of conversation needs a lot of context, and I don’t know what they’re actually being taught in school about the history of racial violence.  I did point out that people wrongly believe that racial violence only happened in the South, which isn’t true; black people were enslaved in the North, too, and suffered through vicious riots like those that rocked NYC in 1863.  In the morning, we had three really nice groups of high school students to talk to, and Shadra gave a great presentation that outlined her process when creating illustrations or designing book covers.  I didn’t write an outline, so I sort of talked off the top of my head, using my own power point presentation as a guide.  I don’t know how effective I was; I wanted them to know that they, too, can publish their own stories; they don’t have to wait for a publishing industry rep to decide for them what they should read or buy.  Some of the girls were interested in my novel, but school policy doesn’t allow students to buy things from vendors on site; lots of Shadra’s former teachers, family members, and friends came by after classes were over to buy BIRD and get their books signed.  Shadra also had her greeting cards and prints available for purchase–I should have been taking notes, but I’m not really interested in selling anything–even my own work!  I only sold one copy of Wish (to Shadra!) and yet didn’t feel disappointed.  I want to see the book in libraries and in classrooms, but that still takes more hustle than I’ve managed so far.  Maybe over break I’ll sit down and make a “business plan”–some kind of plan to get my books into young readers’ hands.  For now, I’m grateful for opportunities to talk to young people and see other parts of the country.  I wish I didn’t always go into the South with so many negative reference points, but I guess I can’t undo all the years I spent focusing on racial violence.  This time around, I left with a stronger appreciation for the resilience of black families.  The Strickland clan is generous, loving, and lots of fun!  Looking at a photograph of Shadra’s great-grandfather–the first black man to own a grocery store in his county–I understood why so many black people stayed put, and refused to flee from the violence.  If *you* can live with dignity, perhaps it matters less what those around you are doing.  Perhaps.