going green

I started recycling when I was in high school more than twenty years ago, and I’m proud that in my kitchen today I have a tiny trash bin and two big, overflowing bins for paper and plastic. I also grew up without a lot of money, so if you go into my bathroom on any given day, you’re likely to find bottles turned upside down in my attempt to drain every last drop of shampoo, lotion, toothpaste, etc.  I switched out most of my light bulbs, I use green cleaning products, and I make sure not to leave “vampire” appliances plugged into outlets.  Now, if an environmental expert came into my home, I’m sure she could do an inventory of the ways I’m not truly green or not green enough. I know I’ve got lots more to learn, and I appreciate friends, websites, and shows on tv that offer ordinary people like me the chance to do better. What I don’t appreciate are people who pass judgment without offering any solutions, or who make suggestions that aren’t compatible with my lifestyle (like the roommate I had once who wanted me to give up bleached feminine products in favor of actual rags).  When I first moved to NYC, I joined a youth collective that was making a concerted effort to develop healthy attitudes and behaviors in teens.  We only served fruit and juice to the youth (no junk food allowed) and we ended each meeting with positive affirmations. My contribution was usually to bring fruit for the kids, and I tended to favor green grapes.  One day as we were painting our mural, I handed out the grapes and a male member of the collective said, “Did you know those grapes are poisoning farm workers?”  I was stunned, and couldn’t answer because I had no idea if the grapes I bought were compromising laborers.  The kids didn’t know what to do, either, since we had been teaching them principles of social justice.  After a few seconds, most of them started devouring the grapes anyway, and I went back to the mural we were painting, ashamed but also angry that my peer had chosen to handle the situation that way.  I stopped buying fruit for the group, and after a few more incidents like that, I realized he was a pompous prick and cut him out of my life. Which is a shame, b/c he is a really talented artist and perhaps, with better communication, we could have learned something from one another.

Now, public shaming IS a useful strategy when someone refuses to respond to requests for change, but I don’t think it should be the first strategy deployed against someone who might actually respond to a gentler, more instructive approach.  Lately I’ve been having a really productive conversation with another YA author about ways to promote other folks’ books when you’ve got the mic.  I’m giving a book talk to the NYC teachers’ union later this month, and I’m wondering if there’s an organic way to introduce other titles and authors into my presentation. Generally, when doing public events, I think authors should promote their work and NOT be policed as to whether or not they’re “doing enough” to promote other authors in that moment.  The same goes for blogs, which is where I do most of my “activism,” if I can call it that.  Unlike people attending special events, my blog audience has no particular expectation when it comes to the topics I cover in here; if anything, I’m sure readers know by now that I’m likely to write about any number of issues that are all linked to my personal interests.  We all have to do our part to promote diversity in children’s literature, but who decides what’s “enough”?  I think each author has to decide for herself.  Whatever you do, you have to do it with conviction so if you’re not comfortable with a particular tactic (or book!), try something else.  Take on small, easy tasks and build up to more radical action.  Ask for suggestions from other authors, see what people are doing on their blogs, adopt and adapt models that look successful, and don’t waste energy trying to reinvent the wheel.  And most importantly, try not to judge authors who reserve their RIGHT to only promote their own work.  It may be disappointing or annoying, but I really do believe that at the end of the day, we are each responsible for our own work.  Especially those of us who haven’t managed to get an agent!  It’s wonderful when folks help out, and you should always try to reciprocate, but being an activist can become a full-time job.  James Baldwin once said, “The point is to get your work done, and your work is to change the world.”  Yet at a Baldwin conference in London a couple of years ago, keynote speaker Caryl Phillips suggested that Baldwin might have written better books later in his life if he’d had someone to answer the phone and say, “Jimmy’s busy writing; he can’t come to the rally or be on your TV show or otherwise help your cause.”  The conference attendees weren’t entirely in agreement, but it is an interesting idea.  Should an artist divide his attention instead of focusing solely on his art?  Does a certain level of activism detract from the value of one’s art?  Does being a “sometime activist” make you a better full-time writer?  I’m trying to find the right balance for myself.  And I’ll begin by admitting that I do grumble sometimes when people I approach refuse to help me, or people I barely know make requests that I find excessive or simply ineffective.  That guy who grilled me about the grapes–I ran into him a few years ago and he told me about a new organization he was creating for black artists.  I listened while he described his mission, and when there was finally a pause I said, “Sounds great, but I’m not a joiner.”  He looked at me with such contempt and told me *I* was the reason black folks couldn’t come together and uplift one another.  I shrugged and walked away.  Maybe he was right.  All I know is, there are different strokes for different folks and I’m trying to find the way forward that’s right for me…