a place inside of me

I’m back on Facebook, but I’m limiting myself to 30 minutes per day. This week I’ve felt a lot better, and I’m extremely grateful for my friends who can help me think and talk critically about the crises facing Black people in this country while still remembering to count our blessings. In some ways it feels strange focusing on children’s books when there’s so much chaos in the world. I’ve spent the summer preparing two new titles for publication—The Girl Who Swallowed the Sun and The Magic Mirror—and I’ve resized three of the four titles I released last spring. Next week I’ll develop my strategy for getting these books into kids’ hands. Even the children of Ferguson are heading back to school, and children’s literature always has a role to play in helping kids to better understand their world and their emotions. When I first started writing for kids I kept a chronology so I’d know how my stories evolved. Right after I wrote The Magic Mirror I wrote a long poem called “A Place Inside of Me.” I can’t remember what prompted me to write it—the shooting of Amadou Diallo? The brutalization of Abner Louima? The lynching of Laura Nelson? This is one of the many manuscripts I will have to self-publish because white editors would be too scared to touch it. There are ten stanzas altogether but here are a few:

A Place Inside of Me

there is a place inside of me

a space deep down inside of me

where all my feelings go…

there is joy inside of me

a happiness deep down inside of me

that glows as bright and warm as the sun

and shines delight on everything I see

there is sorrow inside of me

a sadness deep down inside of me

that is cold and dark

as a watery grave

at the bottom of the sea

there is hunger inside of me

a yearning deep down inside of me

that refuses to be silenced or bound with chains

and insists on being

free

there is pride inside of me

no shame deep down inside of me

for I know how long and hard we have struggled

and against all odds my people have emerged

strong

triumphant

& beautiful…

© Zetta Elliott

How do Black children process the endless killing of members of their community/family/race? How should artists and authors help these kids? Why does the kidlit community so often remain silent on subjects that matter to Black people?