Let’s All Make the #WeNeedDiverseBooks Campaign an Ongoing Movement

By Patrick Flores-Scott

#WeNeedDiverseBooks. The trending hashtag is a channel for conversation around the huge problem of a lack of diversity in children’s literature. The problem has been noted in many recent articles and so have the reasons we need more books by diverse authors and books with complex, real diverse characters.

For many years I was lucky to be a public school teacher in very diverse schools. At different points I was both a general education classroom teacher and a reading specialist. As a classroom teacher, I was able to seek and find the books I wanted my class to hear and read. More often than not, these books had main characters of color. I had the time, energy, resources, and relationships that helped me find great books that my students loved.

My students, however, especially my reluctant readers, were not going to work so hard to find a book that would reflect the cultural, racial, socio-economic realities of their community. They were going to pick the available book, the one closest to their hand when it was time to leave the library, or the trendy book that made them look like they were in the reading “know.”

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Author Angela Cervantes posted this picture on Twitter during the #WeNeedDiverseBooks Campaign.

Students need to be able to accidentally stumble their way into a great book that reflects their own background or one that opens their eyes to new characters and communities. They shouldn’t have to work for it. They shouldn’t have to fight for it. Kids have enough on their plate. Yes, some students are going to research authors, seek out new books and reading experiences, challenge their school librarian and make demands. Most fifth graders, however, are just struggling to make it through the day. They end up with the default book… and given the math of the situation, they’re going to walk out with another book by a white author with a white main character. Is this a tragedy? In the moment, no. That default book might be a great one. But this scene takes place over and over each day in most schools in the country and that great book–if the student is lucky–may just be another in a long line of books that reinforces the notion that great books are written by white authors and that white kids are the ones worthy of books written about them.  This notion is a toxic one, regardless of a student’s background.

Children’s books are a piece of a larger pie. A lack of diversity in film and television reinforces the notion that white stories are more relevant than non-white stories. The make-up the Senate (97 out 0f 100 are white) reinforces the notion that non-whites do not have a role in the highest levels of politics. Yes, there is the President, but his cabinet is made up of 70% white males. Kids see this. They see thousands of African American college athletes and they know that, in the vast majority of cases, these athletes are led to battle by white coaches. They know that the percentages of Black and Latino men in prison are crazily out of proportion with the population of Black and Latino men. Kids see all this. They take it in. The perceptions become realities for them.

My wife and I are the proud, exhausted parents of two rambunctious little boys. Their grandparents are Mexican-American on their mom’s side. My parents are white. My dad is from the U.S., my mom a Spanish-speaking Latina from South America. We will raise our boys to be proud of all that they are and proud of all the Latino, Caucasian, African-American, Asian and mixes of the aforementioned that make up their diverse extended family. While we will do our best to teach that the content of one’s character, not the color of one’s skin (one’s gender, sexual orientation, physical ability) is what is important, television, our political and judicial systems, sports…. And even the make-up of CHILDREN’S BOOKS, will send messages that complicate, skew, and even deem our parental message well-meaning, but just wrong.

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The Oakland Public Library in California posted lots of great pictures like this one on Twitter during the #WeNeedDiverseBooks Campaign.

What do we do about it? The #WeNeedDiverseBooks Movement (Can it please be a movement? We need more movements around here.) is a potentially very important call for change in the children’s book world. Now, we need to push for intentionality. Gatekeepers need to have their feet held to the fire. The Movement (!) needs to push publishers to set goals that trend their books in a more realistically diverse direction. It needs to push the industry to hire editors from diverse backgrounds and to hire and support diverse interns and entry-level assistants who can have the power to move books off the pile and into editors’ hands. The Movement needs to hold publishers accountable.

Institutions which support writers and illustrators, like my beloved SCBWI, need to recruit underrepresented writers to their conferences. (And to check out the percentage of white male panelists and speakers compared to the percentage of white male attendees.) Groups like SCBWI need to be pushed to intentionally foster and mentor a more diverse writing community.

The movement needs to push us published authors of all colors and stripes, to mentor diverse up-and-comers, to include pro-bono school visits to underfunded schools, and to write real, complex, fallible diverse characters who live the entirety of the American experience.

Members of The Movement need to request diverse books at their bookstores and libraries. We need to post reviews on Amazon and Goodreads and library websites. Members of the Movement need to advise book bloggers and to follow and support blogs like this one. We need to give diverse books as birthday presents and to talk about our favorites on the bus, at work, in line at the bookstore…

Members of The Movement need to push our political leaders to support the health, education and welfare of our future readers and writers.

Publishers, agents, bookstore workers, librarians, teachers, authors… there are bunches these folks out there doing the positive stuff that will make change possible. The Movement needs to support them and it needs to push for intentionality in those who mean well, but have not yet made the move to change.

PatrickFS1Patrick Flores-Scott was, until recently, a long-time public school teacher in Seattle, Washington. He’s now a stay-at-home dad and early morning writer in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Patrick’s first novel, Jumped In, has been named to a YALSA 2014 Best Fiction for Young Adults book, an NCSS/CBC Notable Book for the Social Studies and a Bank Street College Best Book of 2014. He is currently working on his second book, American Road Trip.

Jumped In was featured in Libros Latin@s on Thursday. Click here to see the overview.

 

Guest Post: Alidis Vicente Writes So Children Can Temporarily Escape Harsh Realities

By Alidis Vicente

Bruises. That’s what I saw on the face and body of a 15-year-old girl a few years ago as the school nurse examined her in front of me. She was also covered in scars, both physical and emotional. Her body stood frozen with eyes fixed on the floor as she was observed for signs of abuse. Her face was drenched in fear and shame. Fear of what the repercussions of my visit would be and shame of having not covered her bruises well enough so as not be seen. At that moment she was not Latina, African American, Italian American, or a member of any other ethnic group. She was a child. An abused, broken, petrified child.

Later that day, my coworker and I stood, unwelcome, in a living room. We confronted the older brother who physically assaulted that young lady along with the family who defended him. She had served her brother (“the man of the house” in his father’s absence) cold milk instead of hot milk and was irritated at being asked to warm it. The punches and smacks followed, as did the bottom of the stairs when she tumbled down.

Ultimately, the police ordered the monster of an older brother out of the home. I felt everything but relief as I watched him smile and glare at the young lady he abused while he was escorted away. I knew I couldn’t protect her forever, even though I so desperately wanted to. When all was said and done, I had to go home. Unfortunately, so did she. The next day I would have to be at my desk, bright and early, to write a report of my investigative findings. I couldn’t say what I wanted to. I couldn’t write what I saw in the eyes of the people I had met or the emotions felt in the air and chaos of the room. My report would be in black and white–what my trained eyes saw, what my recording ears heard, and what my supervisor told me had to be done.

That was my job. Clocking into work every day at 9 a.m. and sometimes driving home 16 hours later in a car owned by the state government. My job was to protect children and ensure their well-being. My challenge was to detach myself from every investigation. I didn’t make kids happy. I walked into their lives, for a short time, and turned them upside down no matter how terrible they already were. I was rarely ever a source of happiness in their eyes even though, in my heart, I knew I was doing the right thing.

I decided to stop working when my first son was born. Yes, I still wanted to go back to work. It was a part of my identity and one of the most indirectly rewarding experiences of my life. But I wanted to become something different. I wanted to bring joy to children who needed it most. I longed for young faces to smile, and not shudder, when they saw me.

So, I’m sure to the dismay of many, when people ask why I write for Latino kids, my answer is simple. I don’t. My cultural agenda is slim. If young readers learn Spanish vocabulary while reading my books, Great! If they pick up on some cultural nuances embedded within my text, Amazing! But that’s not, and never will be, why I type on my laptop or jot on small pieces of random paper. I concoct stories to set my imagination free. I create books to prompt smiles and silent chuckles. I write so young minds, albeit temporarily, can forget about where they are and dream about where they want to be.

 

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Alidis Vicente is a stay at home mother from New Jersey. After graduating from Rutgers University with a Bachelor’s Degree in 2005, she worked with children and families for New Jersey’s Division of Youth and Family Services. She is currently a client of Writers House Literary Agency and is also the author of The Coquí & the Iguana, her first picture book. Alidis, the original Detective Flaca, continues to write stories from her New Jersey home, only now she uses a laptop instead of a notepad… at least most of the time. The Missing Chancleta and Other Top-Secret Cases is a finalist for the 2014 International Latino Book Awards in the category “Best Youth Chapter Fiction Book: Spanish or Bilingual.”

 

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month.
Books by Alidis Vicente:

Chancleta  Coqui

Guest Post: CAKE Literary on Writing Diversity, Finding Your Flavor

By Sona Charaipotra

Have you ever cried in class? I have. And no, I’m not talking about kindergarten. I’m in my 30s, and yes, I shed actual tears during a workshop during my writing for children creative writing MFA program at the New School two years ago.

No, it wasn’t a particularly harsh critique. I have to say, I have an incredibly thick skin. Most of the time.

But this particular workshop was a safe space. Taught by the stunningly smart and super-nurturing Andrea Davis Pinkney, this one focused on a topic too frequently neglected by both the academy and publishing: diversity. Specifically, we were talking about diversity in kidlit and YA, and addressing why it is important.

And though it’s been a long time since I was a kid or even a teenager, the wound was still fresh. Because we still haven’t gotten there.

Growing up as a little brown girl – one of the few, back then – in small-town, suburban central New Jersey, books were my escape. I caused a ruckus alongside little Anne in Avonlea; I mourned Beth along with her sisters in the harsh winter of Maine; I honed my grand ambitions like Kristy and her babysitters’ club; I even swooned alongside Elena over the brothers Salvatore when the Vampire Diaries was originally released. (Yes, I am that old.)

CAKE logo+2.7.12But if you’ll note: in all those books and the hundreds of others I devoured, I never really saw myself, or anyone remotely like me. The majority of characters in books for kids and teens in the ’80s and ’90s were white. And according to Christopher Myers in his recent New York Times piece, “The Apartheid of Children’s Literature,” the majority still are today, by quite a landslide.

Why is this worth discussing? Because it hurts. A lot. It’s a hit to a kid’s self-esteem to be told – silently, but oh so clearly – that their story is not worth telling, that their voice is not important.

As Myers notes in his piece, it leaves you with “a gap in the much-written-about sense of self-love that comes from recognizing oneself in a text, from the understanding that your life and lives of people like you are worthy of being told, thought about, discussed and even celebrated.”

Honestly, it’s a punch to the gut. It kills me that, 30 years later, kids are still feeling this way. That my daughter, all of four now and already shaping up to be a voracious reader, will still feel that pinch.

That’s why I cried that day in class. And that’s why, with my writing partner Dhonielle Clayton, whom I met on the first day of my MFA program, I co-founded CAKE Literary, a literary development company that focuses on high concept fiction with a strong commitment to diversity.

I know what you’re thinking: silly thing to bank a personal fortune (however small) on, right? We all know diversity doesn’t sell.

Well, Dhonielle and I would like to call bullshit on that. Done the right way, diversity can bring a richness and flavor to any manuscript. After all, so much about a great read is in the details – the scent and sizzle of freshly-fried samosas wafting up from her mama’s kitchen, the ferocious whip of the wind on an icy February morning, the ashy knees she keeps hidden under too-long skirts, the blush that climbs up her throat and to her cheeks when she flirts with her crush for the first time. The details give texture and color, a sense of time and place and, most importantly, character. The details define worldview and fill out voice.

But the main thing is the big picture – and what our company will do is focus on BIG pictures. Smart, sophisticated storytelling that’s full of flavor – books where the diversity is a major part of the character, but not the central focus of the character.

Case in point: our debut novel, Tiny Pretty Things, which is due next summer. Set in a cutthroat New York City ballet academy, the book centers on three characters, one white, one black, and one half-Korean. And while their backgrounds definitely inform the characters’ worldviews and experiences, the book is not about skin color. It has a plot – a juicy, riveting and ultimately relatable story that we’re hoping will leave readers wanting more.

That’s what we’ll do with each of our projects: tell a fun, delicious story that readers want to read, but incorporate real-life flavor – meaningful diversity – in a natural, relevant way. We’re all about keeping it real, so part of our mission will be to connect vibrant, authentic voices with the stories we’re crafting.

What exactly does CAKE do? We’re not an agency or publisher, but rather a book packager – a YA and middle grade think tank of sorts. We come up with sharp multimedia concepts that we then develop into a detailed outline. Once the idea is fleshed out, we hire a writer to work with us on several chapters or a complete manuscript, which we then package to take to publishers. Once the project sells, the writer stays on board to complete the project. Some book packagers get a bad rap for being notoriously stingy. But CAKE’s aim is to be very writer friendly, because, after all, we’re writers, too. So when we work with a writer on a project, they get paid a flat fee on signing, on delivery, and then, when the project sells, they get a cut of those proceeds as well. The other thing that sets CAKE apart is our commitment to diversity, which is an integral part of every CAKE project.

Dhonielle Clayton

Dhonielle Clayton

Sona Charaipotra

Sona Charaipotra

Interested in learning more? We’ll be looking to hire writers beginning this spring, so connect with us on CAKELiterary.com or via CakeLiterarySubmissions@gmail.com. You can also follow us on Twitter @CAKELiterary.

 

 

 

 

Guest Post: Author Danette Vigilante on the Importance of Dream Seeds

By Danette Vigilante

When a dream seed is planted and watered everyday, it has no choice but to grow and blossom. You might be wondering what in the world a ‘dream seed’ is, so I’ll tell you.

A dream seed is usually planted deep inside you when you’re a child. It could come from the smallest of compliments such as, “You’re really good at (fill in the blank)” or “I really like (fill in the blank) about you.”

In my case, my dream seed came from the pen of my fifth grade teacher. This realization didn’t hit me until I was well into adulthood. Like, WELL into it. As a matter of fact, I went years being somewhat envious of people who spoke of a special teacher who had planted their dream seed early on in their lives.

We’ve all seen talk shows where a beloved teacher is surprised by an old student who grew up into an awesome adult doing awesome things all because of this teacher. Yes, I felt happy for these people, and even shed a tear because their meeting was so touching. Plus, I absolutely love when people achieve their goals in life. But I also held a question quietly inside. It’s a question I’m not too proud to admit I had. I wanted to know where my dream-seed-planting-teacher was when I was growing up. Wasn’t I good enough? Worthy enough? Wasn’t there a teacher somewhere in my young life who cared?

Getting back to my fifth grade teacher and what she wrote with her magic pen. It was one simple sentence on the back of my report card: “Danette needs help in reading.” Those five words ignited a fire in me, and I ran to the library in order to put it out. And by ‘put it out,’ I mean I began reading as if my life depended on it. To be honest, part of that was because I wanted to prove my teacher wrong. I needed help with reading? My attitude was, “Humph, I’ll show you.” Did I mention I was in fifth grade?

I’d spend whole days in my bedroom reading, and when it was time for bed, I read beneath the covers using a dollhouse lamp until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

I loved the smell of the library, the small creaking sound the books made when you first opened them. I loved peeking underneath the plastic covers to see what the “real” cover looked like. I especially loved how the library made me feel: independent and strong.

I’d look at all those shelves filled with books, catch my breath, and wonder which ones I would choose that day. Once decided, I’d pile them up and excitedly carry them home.

My dream seed began to take root in the form of a teeny, tiny thought— maybe one day I could write a book. The thought was almost silent, but it had always stayed by my side, patiently waiting.

You can imagine how overjoyed I was to finally recognize that I, too, had a teacher who had gifted me a dream seed. It doesn’t matter why I had “watered” it, the most important thing was that I did.

Danette_Vigilante_head_shot_high_resDanette Vigilante grew up in the Red Hook Houses in Brooklyn, New York. She now resides in Staten Island with her husband, two daughters, two puppies, and a cat with a bad attitude. Danette is the author of THE TROUBLE WITH HALF A MOON, a 2012-2013 Sunshine State Young Readers award nominee, and SAVING BABY DOE.

Debut Author Skila Brown’s Novel in Verse Centers on Guatemalan Civil War

By Cindy L. Rodriguez

CaminarI recently interviewed debut author Skila Brown for the Fearless Fifteeners site, which helps to highlight our debut author friends in the OneFour KidLit group. Most of the interview is reprinted here, but I added the final question in particular because of our audience and our mission. Skila is not Guatemalan, yet she wrote a moving narrative about a young Guatemalan boy in 1981 caught in civil war. The last question addresses the concern about writing with authenticity outside of one’s own ethnic/racial experiences.

First, a little about her novel, Caminar, which was released March 26.

Carlos knows that when the soldiers arrive with warnings about the Communist rebels, it is time to be a man and defend the village, keep everyone safe. But Mama tells him not yet—he’s still her quiet moonfaced boy. The soldiers laugh at the villagers, and before they move on, a neighbor is found dangling from a tree, a sign on his neck: Communist.

Mama tells Carlos to run and hide, then try to find her. . . . Numb and alone, he must join a band of guerillas as they trek to the top of the mountain where Carlos’s abuela lives. Will he be in time, and brave enough, to warn them about the soldiers? What will he do then? A novel in verse inspired by actual events during Guatemala’s civil war, Caminar is the moving story of a boy who loses nearly everything before discovering who he really is.

“Exquisitely crafted poems are the basis of an unusually fine verse novel…”

–Horn Book, starred review

“…a much-needed addition to Latin American-themed middle grade fiction.”

–School Library Journal, starred review

Me: Your bio says you lived in Guatemala for a bit. Did your experience there spark interest in this topic? Did anything else inspire you to write this particular story?

Skila: We moved to Guatemala after I’d finished the novel, though I revised it some while we were there. This novel actually came out, reluctantly and painfully, after I’d spent about a decade reading about Guatemala’s history, especially the history of the violence there that peaked in the early 80s. I had no intention of writing about it, but that’s what ended up happening. I certainly felt inspired by accounts of survival that I read, but also felt a real desire to make sure other people knew about what had happened there.

Me: How extensive was your research? Did you run into any roadblocks when seeking information?

Skila: My research started out very organically—I was reading for pleasure and interest, not with the intention of gathering facts to write a story. When the story began, I had some pointed research to do, specific questions about language and geography and other details that I hadn’t already absorbed. It was hard to track down first person accounts of rural Guatemala during this time.

Right away I faced a tough decision about language. Although Carlos would have spoken Spanish in school, it wouldn’t have been his first language; it’s not what he would have spoken at home with his mother. In an earlier draft I envisioned using an indigenous language in the text, as well as Spanish—which would have likely been the way that Carlos could have spoken to someone like Paco, for example—but I was worried about being able to maintain accuracy and authenticity if I wrote the story that culturally specific. I also felt that an English speaking reader might struggle with the mixture of over four different languages in the same story. Definitely trying to balance authenticity with a reader’s connection was a constant struggle.

Me: Is your protagonist Carlos linked to anyone you came across during your research or does he represent the young men who survived that time?

Skila: Carlos isn’t based on any one person. In fact, I had the story down before I had a character at all, but I knew early on the main character was a child, that this was really, at its core, a coming of age story. In violent conflicts all over the world, it’s not uncommon for a handful of people to survive an attack on a village such as this, having scattered away during the chaos. I’d read about children who survived and felt really drawn to that story—how scary it must for a child to be on his or her own, how resourceful that child would have to be.

Me: The physical layout of the poems adds to the narrative. I’m glad I read this one on paper instead of listening to it on audio. The visual really complements the content. Is that something you consider in the writing phase or is that developed in editing?

Skila: This was something I worked a lot on in revision. I wrote this story while I was a grad student and while I was working with poets Julie Larios and Sharon Darrow. Sharon, in particular, encouraged me to play around with shape and the placement of lines on a page. White space is a poet’s tool, and I liked thinking about how I could use it. Typically I draft a poem by hand and it has no shape or form in the beginning, I’m just thinking about the content and the words themselves. But as I revise that poem and before I’m ready to put it into the computer, I try to think about what shape would serve it best. It’s easy to play around with form and shape; it’s harder to use those both deliberately.

Me: Tell us about your publication journey. Some people get deals while still in grad school, while others query for years. What’s your story?

Skila: While I was in grad school, Candlewick was kind enough to offer me a scholarship award for a picture book text I wrote called Slickety Quick. It’s a non-fiction/poetry blend about sharks and it’s scheduled to be out with them in 2016. This really opened a door for me with them, as they also asked to see my novel. I think the key for writers is to submit away—but then put it out of your mind and dive into the next project. Good news comes faster when you’re looking the other way.

Me: Did you have any additional considerations while writing about something outside your racial/ethnic experience? Did you do anything in particular to “get it right” or did you approach it the same way you’d approach any other book project?

Skila: I was very concerned about this, Cindy. This concern kept the story in my head for two years, before I felt brave enough to put it on paper. This concern kept the finished manuscript on my computer for some time before I was ready to send it out to query. It’s something I’m concerned about still. Writing outside our cultures is a very risky thing for writers to do because it’s so easy to get it wrong.

However. Everyone this month is talking about The Study. And if only 6% of books published for kids in 2013 starred a character of color, then it’s past time for us to think about how to remedy that. If writers are going to play our part in addressing this problem, we need to look hard at how we can do this responsibly.

I approached this with a lot of research, a goal of authenticity, and a strong dose of humility. I had multiple people vet my story and offer suggestions. I thought hard about stereotypes and language and how best to portray the story with the most respect I could give it. I also tried to balance the “otherness” of Carlos with what will connect him to a reader today, what makes him the same as a twelve year old boy, reading this story in Chicago, for example. As adults we tend to notice the differences in characters and cultures, but kids are great about finding what’s the same and really connecting to the character. I hope they are able to do that with Carlos.

skilaSkila Brown holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She grew up in Kentucky and Tennessee, lived for a bit in Guatemala, and now resides with her family in Indiana.

Come back on Thursday, when we will spotlight Caminar in our Libros Latin@s section!

We are giving away two copies of Caminar!! Go to a Rafflecopter giveaway to enter for free. You can enter once per day through this week. Two winners will be selected Saturday morning.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Diversity in YA

Or, what does that even mean?

 

By Zoraida Córdova

Brace yourselves. Here’s another blog post on the lack of diversity in YA. When we bring up these topics the common words I see are FEAR, UNCOMFORTABLE, GUILT.  If a white person brings up the subject then, “who are they to talk about it?” If a POC does it, we’ll be seen as a bunch of angry people. So, Catch 22. I get it. Writing these posts is HARD, but they should be written. Recently one of my favorite authors ever, Jenny Han, tweeted about diversity in YA. The thing is, we need to feel uncomfortable, and like Jenny said, “that’s the risk.”

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ecsaHere’s what you need to know about me. I was born in Ecuador. I moved to Queens, NY when I was 6. Being in America for 20 years makes me American. My public school experience is American. Yet, when people look at me and hear me speak, they are perplexed. Why? You got me.  The “Your English is so good!” “What are you?” “My friend is from Ecuador, do you know LUIS PABLO ESTEBAN SANTIAGO?” Spoiler alert: I don’t.

This difference wasn’t apparent to me from the beginning. Between grades 1-4, I was in bilingual classes. (My Little Mermaid Spanish didn’t get me to the top of the class right away.) All of my classmates had either emigrated from a Latin American country or had Latin American parents. Salvadorian, Peruvian, Puerto Rican, you name it. Guess what, we spoke English. We listened to the Spice Girls. We cut up our bangs like Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap. We watched TRL and taped the music videos. We learned the awesome moves to Christina Aguilera’s Genie in a Bottle (She’s half Ecuadorian, BTW). At home, sometimes I’d eat Chef Boyardi ravioli, sometimes I’d have rice and steak and beans.

So when I got to 5th grade, I was placed into the “regular” kids class. English only. Suddenly my friends also included Guyanese, Jamaican, African-American. Guess what, we still listened to shitty New photo 4 (1)Millennium pop and idolized Harriet the Spy.

Junior high school and high school were also the same thing. Look at all the shades of brownness! Here are some pictures from my high school yearbook. Spoiler alert: I am still a nerd.

My experience growing up in neighborhoods that are already diverse gives me a different perspective. Could I have used more diverse characters in my current books? Yes. My trilogy centers around a white merman from Brooklyn. His love interest is mixed. His friends are mixed. Merpeople in my world come in all shades. But the answer is still yes. You can always add diverse characters into your books.

photo 3 (1)When people say they’re “afraid” they’re not going to give their “Other” character justice by writing from an experience other than an Anglo-American experience, I call bull. It is scary writing about an experience other than yours. However, unless your character has just moved to Kentucky from a remote town in Panama, then why are you afraid to write the experience of an otherwise straightforward character? Your character can still be named Danilo Cordova and the only research you have to do is “What does a teenage boy like?”

If your character is Nuyorican, then you’d have to do more research. Stereotypes need not apply. Because, here’s a little known secret, not all Latin experiences are the same. No matter where we were born, when we immigrated, where we were raised, we can’t be lumped into the same experience. This is not to say that every YA author should write a novel about how hard it is to grow up being brown, because I did it and my adolescence was pretty “average.”

If you’re writing a fantasy/sci-fi novel and there is not a single non-white person to be found, then my only question is “how come?” Here you have a chance to create a whole new world, where our carefully constructed American ideal of white-only beauty need not apply. When I read YA fantasy novels and the only time race is mentioned is when a new character comes in and has “chocolate” or “earth colored” skin, I just cringe. This mean everyone else I’ve been reading about is white. Not only is that lazy writing, it’s a limited way of thinking about a world that is supposed to be fantastical.

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So how do we fix this? Well, lets talk about it. Let’s be friends. Reach out to someone who has a different experience as you. READ. I  to this date have yet to read a YA about a teenage Ecuadorian girl. Not even a slice of life story about a girl who falls in love and there’s a nice cover of them at the beach, or lying down on a lawn. I am, however, excited about Diana Renn’s upcoming YA thriller Latitude ZeroThe book takes place in Boston and in Ecuador. Diana is not Ecuadorian, but she wrote an exciting novel with diverse characters. She reached out and did her research. latitudecover

Here we go back to this FEAR concept. If you throw in a character named Chiquita Bonita in the middle of the scene, and she has hoop earrings and says “Ay, mami,” then you should be afraid because you’re propagating a stereotype. If you describe your Latina girl as “exotic,” “curvaceous,” “spicy,” or “saucy” then you are propagating a stereotype, or making gumbo IDK. If you’re like Britney Spears and equate a Latin male with “the bad boy type,” then you should be afraid because you’re propagating a stereotype. If you as an author can go on Google and research “how to kill someone and get away with it” because “your protagonist needs to know” then you can also try Googling about other American communities that are not your own.

There is a difference between being afraid to write about a culture that is not your own, and consciously creating a two dimensional stereotypical character.

Romeo and Juliet0001

One of my favorite retellings of Romeo & Juliet is the most recent one on Broadway, partially because Orlando Bloom is shirtless but also because Juliet is black. They aren’t divided because of their skin color. This isn’t West Side Story. It’s not that one is brown and from the wrong side of the tracks, and the other one is nice and white, so they can’t be together. This is a story of feuding families that have been feuding so long they can’t even remember why or how it started. It’s that simple.

If you’re worried you’re still propagating a stereotype, then reach out. You’ll make a friend. You’ll learn something new. I am extremely lucky to have had diverse friends. I know that’s not the case for everyone and I know that if you’re not in a big city, chances are the POC in you neighborhood are marginalized. I’m not in Arizona where they’re trying to wipe out Mexican studies. I’m not in a tiny town in Ohio where there is one black kid in the class. I’m in NYC, which isn’t perfect and has a history of putting away their low income minorities to make room for gentrification. But my eyes are extremely open (and I got new glasses today) as to the future we need to create for Young Adult literature. It’s a team effort.

Maybe if we keep making it a point, when we talk about diverse characters in the coming years, it will be more than just a trend; it’ll be the new norm.

 

Edited: 3/31/14

*** Representation of Latin@s in media has been a personal focus for me.  This is not to say that “diversity” to me means only adding Latin@s to literature. The conversation extends to all marginalized people. Like I said, lets talk about it.