black and (jet)blue

What did I do to be so black and blue?

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better” ~ Maya Angelou

On Sunday I was over at a friend’s house for our monthly gathering of Black women writers. When it comes to diversity in kid lit, we occupy different positions across the spectrum, but it’s useful to discuss the respective challenges we face when trying to create change within the children’s publishing industry. For example, when you’re part of a team, it can be hard to build consensus around a specific agenda—and even harder to divide the labor so that the onus doesn’t fall on one person. Our conversations tend to jump around a lot; as writers, we also talk about our works-in-progress and when Jenn went online to show us an illustrator’s portfolio, she learned that a friend of ours had suddenly passed away. The news of Brook Stephenson‘s death completely changed the tone of our conversation. Like us, Brook was a writer, educator, and a passionate advocate for greater diversity in the literary world. He supported writers of color in every possible way, and it was devastating to learn that his life—and his life’s work—ended so abruptly. We all know that tomorrow isn’t promised, but we don’t always treat our projects with the urgency they deserve. I was asked recently whether I would ever consider going the traditional route with my manuscripts. And I didn’t have the energy to explain that I do send things out to agents and editors but rarely receive a response. I didn’t set out to self-publish, but I don’t have any regrets. I should have two new books ready by the end of this week, and I have three more in production. If, God forbid, I didn’t wake up tomorrow, I would at least leave behind two dozen books that can continue to circulate and reflect my view of the world.

And what about all the time and energy I have devoted to the diversity debate? I feel less certain of my impact in that arena. This morning a friend at a conference in the UK tweeted that children’s literature scholar Phil Nel was talking about my books and the link between racism and self-publishing. Over the weekend, another friend gave the keynote at this same conference and also referenced my work. I’m blessed to have bold allies who use their platforms to call a spade a spade—the overwhelming whiteness of the children’s literature community isn’t about merit (writers of color aren’t talented enough) or money (books about kids of color don’t sell). It’s about power (who hoards it) and priorities (what matters most to those with the most power).

When I met with the Black women behind the Soar with Reading program last Friday, I knew I was preaching to the choir. We posted our open letter to Jet Blue last month with the hope that the company would reach out to us, but I didn’t expect to receive a personal invitation to meet with Icema Gibbs, Jet Blue’s Director of Corporate Social Responsibility. At their Long Island City headquarters I had an hour to share my concerns with Ms. Gibbs and Tamara Young, Manager of Corporate Communications, and I really appreciated their candor and willingness to consider the suggested actions our group put together.

• Solicit diverse books from small presses and independent authors
• Deepen engagement with books by providing opportunities for children to meet local authors of color
• Promote book culture on Jet Blue flights and social media with PSAs featuring authors and/or celebrity parents offering tips for promoting family literacy
• Partner with Ikea or Home Depot to provide simple bookcases so families can create a reading nook in their home

Jet Blue’s commitment to providing 100,000 books to children in low-income communities is admirable and we certainly don’t want to see the program fail. But gauging its success depends on the initial objectives. We support the development of home libraries and know how hard it can be to purchase books in low-income areas. We also understand the importance of providing “mirrors” when trying to deepen a child’s engagement with books. It is undoubtedly cheaper to partner with a large corporate publisher that can provide thousands of deeply discounted titles for the book vending machines. But when the vast majority of those titles don’t reflect the children receiving the books, what has been achieved and what has been lost? I’m not a corporate kind of girl and will let someone else do the cost-benefit analysis here. But personally, I would opt for equity and quality over quantity—if necessary, spend more money on fewer books to ensure that they don’t contribute to the symbolic and physical annihilation of our most vulnerable kids of color. When possible, feature local authors so kids understand that a writer is someone who looks just like them and comes from their community. Don’t give a leg up to corporate publishers and white authors who already consume 95% of the pie—and don’t prioritize the needs of kids of color.

So where do we go from here? The pilot program for the book vending machines wraps up in October, and other cities are already competing for a chance to have 100,000 books donated to their communities. New York isn’t a contender right now, and I’m not sure whether we should mobilize people to vote when it’s unclear what the vending machines will offer next year. Should we write another open letter to Random House and demand that they provide more diverse books for the Soar with Reading program? Or should we take a page out of the Black Lives Matter movement and grab the mic at a public event? People don’t always do better when they know better, and the energy we spend appealing to corporations is energy we’re not investing in our own work. Tomorrow isn’t promised. So what should we do TODAY?