take care

This morning I went to get my annual mammogram. Part of me wanted to skip the 9am appointment; I’ve had 3 migraines in 5 days—always at night—so I take my medication before crawling into bed and then feel groggy in the morning. But I was more determined to keep the appointment this year because I wanted to get some advice from the nurse. A dear friend has lost two relatives to breast cancer and still won’t schedule a mammogram. I’ve repeatedly sent her information about ScanVan, which covers the cost whether or not you have insurance, but she still hasn’t made an appointment. The nurse today was just as perplexed as I am—why wouldn’t you do something that could save your life? If you can get through a pap smear, you can handle a mammogram, and both ensure that women stay healthy. I’m taking a break from Facebook because there have been several more police shootings and I can’t take the videos, and op-eds, and memes that highlight the uproar over a Black male athlete “taking a knee” versus the silence from so many Whites when yet another unarmed Black man “takes a bullet.” I want to focus on health and healing and how we manage to take care of ourselves and each other despite ongoing attacks against our community. When I met with the incredible young people at Juxtaposition Arts in Minneapolis, they talked about the intent behind the stunning mural they painted outside the center.

With a Black mother and child at the center, the mural memorializes lives lost in the community while also celebrating the achievement and potential of Black women throughout time. I thought of the many RIP murals that crop up here in NYC whenever another Black man is shot, and I was really glad that the young women who developed the mural looked inward as well and came up with ways to promote healing within the arts center. They made a space where guests can feel at ease and be comforted by the art and furnishings of the living room they call “the Blackhouse.” They even made healing kits that contained self-care items like tea bags, and bath salts, and a button like the one pictured above. Art has the power to heal and I know that when I write with murder on my mind, my stories change. Sometimes I let that happen, and sometimes I resist. We’re working on final illustrations for Milo’s Museum, and I got a positive response when I debuted the story last weekend at The Loft Literary Center. I made it very clear that the book still needs a lot of work and this afternoon I’ll be revising the text—again! But the illustrations are really coming along and I love being able to add nuances that a child might not understand but an adult will appreciate. Today Purple sent her first attempt at reproducing the European tradition of including Black servants in portraiture, and I love it! We’re going to mimic the pose in the portrait by having Poppa hold Milo’s hand. THIS is what I need to focus on right now. Half a dozen Black men talked to me as I walked the ten blocks to the clinic this morning; sometimes I responded, sometimes I didn’t because that’s my right. I’m trying to take care of myself this week, and that means being alone, turning inward, and doing things that make me feel valued and safe. Sam Bloom over at Reading While White alerted me to a lovely comment left by a woman who was taken by A Hand to Hold. She called it a “dandelion book”—“one [you]’d blow on, sending the seeds far and wide to rest in libraries and bookshelves everywhere.” And this is why she loved the book:

…some white/nonBlack people, even some lefty, anti-racist white people really do think of Black 3, 4, 5 year olds as baby criminals, or little monsters, or born filled with violence to the point that random white children might be in danger from them. And one of the more horrifying things is, it’s not at all unheard of for small Black children to be treated like that by teachers and others in authority. Not unheard of at all.

And that’s why I love this book. Mind, I am not a librarian or children’s book person, so there may be 1000s of books like this already on the shelves, but I don’t know them. I just know this book at the moment.

But back to why it’s my dandelion book, why I think it’s so important. I went and looked up more about it and throughout the book the little girl is treated by her father as something precious. Loved. Cherished. And her father, of course, is the one doing all the loving and cherishing. And I love that it shows that, but also both the child’s and father’s vulnerability when it’s time to let go, for the little girl to go to school. That’s this precious, loved little just as frightened as all the other children. Just as confused by the big wide world outside of dad and mom’s influence. And just as ready for a friend of any color as most other children are. It frames Black children, this child, in a way they rarely are in children’s or adults literature.

It’s a sunny, warm day so I’m going to go to the botanic garden a little later. I have more to say about my week in Minnesota but Sarah Park Dahlen and I may try to publish a joint account elsewhere so I’ll save the rest for now. WNDB is hosting a #BlackGirlMagic roundtable today—and we definitely need a little magic this week. It’s a great opportunity to hear Black women kid lit authors defining the term and how it operates in their work. Here’s part of the introduction by Dhonielle Clayton:

As an adult looking back, I realize now that my discomfort came from the fact that I couldn’t find myself. I was always the sidekick in books, movies, and TV. Girls who looked like me never got the guy. Seventeen magazine gave tips for the latest hair trends, but they never included my hair texture. I was always pretty for a black girl. I was the smudge.

I needed magic.

I hope a new generation of black girls can cling tight to the novels of the ladies below and start to find themselves in interesting and dynamic new media. I know that if I had had even a few of these books and role models, the teenage me wouldn’t have felt so invisible.

This is a grim moment in our history but we can only move forward if we take care of ourselves and each other. So do what you gotta do…