Let’s Talk About the “D” Word in Children’s Books

No, not that “D” word. I mean the other “D” word. Diversity.

Back in March, I had the opportunity to share the stage with newly acclaimed author Angie Thomas (The Hate U Give) and soon-to-be acclaimed author Corabel Shofner (Almost Paradise). It was a joint book signing at Square Books in Oxford, Mississippi with Corabel as the moderator. For those of you who don’t know, Oxford, Mississippi is the home of the University of Mississippi, or Ole Miss at it is commonly called, a college that has a long history regarding race issues. Even the name “Ole Miss” itself has a rather negative racial connotation; it's the name slaves used when referring to the slave owner’s wife.

So there we were—Angie Thomas, a young Mississippian from “the hood” who has penned a novel pertaining to the current Black Lives Matter movement; myself, a not-so-young Mississippian from “the Delta” who has penned a historical novel pertaining to a tragedy that was pivotal to the Civil Rights Movement; and Corabel Shofner, another not-so-young Mississippian from both Jackson, Mississippi (Angie’s hometown) and the Mississippi Delta (where she spent a great deal of time with her landowning grandparents)—all on the same stage, openly discussing the issue of race, both past and present.

After our book talk, a professor from the college asked a question which she had previously asked her students and which none of them could (or would) answer: “When it comes to books for children, why does representation matter?”

The professor stated that all of her students were white. Of course, that made it easier for both Angie and me to answer quickly that the reason they couldn’t answer the question is because they have always been represented. And when you’ve always been represented, it’s hard to accurately answer the question of why representation matters.

After our initial responses, we both gave more personal responses. We talked about the books that got us to reading when we were kids—books such as Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry for Angie and The Soul Brothers and Sister Lou for me. After we shared our personal experiences, I was able to take the conversation a bit further. Being a parent, I was able to talk about how seeing themselves in books has mattered to my own children.

 Because my children have been raised in a more diverse environment than what I was raised in, it never occurred to me that representation mattered to them. It wasn't until my son, my third child, had to do a reading project for school. He had to choose a character from one of his favorite books and make a replica of him or her. The book he chose was Captain Underpants. The character he chose was George. When I asked him why George was his favorite character, he replied, "Because he's brown like me."

That's when I began to have flashback moments of my middle child and her early novel reading experiences. She loved many types of books, but she pointed out that her favorite books were Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred Taylor, One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia, and What Momma Left by Renee Watson. It never occurred to me that she loved those books because they all featured a main character who looked like her.

Even while watching television, my son, who is now ten, will take note if there is no diversity in the cast. Just recently he watched a show on a popular children’s channel and commented afterward, “I can’t believe that there were no brown people at all on that show.” This isn’t something we taught him. This is something that is instinctive. He feels a deeper connection to a book, TV show, or movie, when there is someone with whom to connect. On the flip side, he gets absolutely giddy when there is representation on a show. Really, he does. He gets so excited that he points it out, “Hey, there’s a brown kid on this show.” It makes him feel good to see someone like himself, whether it’s on the page of a book or on a stage before a TV camera.


Any guesses as to why this is one of my son's favorite shows?
Photo: http://www.cattlecallauditions.com/disney-channel-jessie/

So why is representation important? When a child is a part of any type of minority group, whether it’s based on skin color, gender identity, physical or mental challenge, religion, culture, or any other group that I have failed to list, it makes that child feel special to see himself or herself represented. And that is why that “D” word—Diversity—is so important in children’s books.

 

What are your thoughts on this topic? Why does representation matter to you?

Girls Growing Up In Middle Grade Fiction. Period.

Last year I was stuck on my MG about a girl, the star of an all-boys soccer team. During a writing exercise in which I was brainstorming what could have happened that she gets kicked out of her team, I made a list of things that happen at the age of twelve. The first thing on my list was: she gets her period. As soon as that thought formed, all the loose pieces of my story fell into place. Yes! She gets her period, and gets kicked out of her team, but since she's not the quitting kind, she joins another team, a girl's team.

[Sidenote on girls' quitting sports during puberty: Data from the most recent Always Confidence & Puberty Survey*, shows that by the end of puberty, half of girls surveyed (51 percent) will have quit sports. Olympian gold medalist and World Champion Alex Morgan has said, "At age thirteen one of my coaches told me that I wasn’t good enough. As a young girl just wanting to play and do my best, that was difficult to hear. It would have been easy for me to quit - but I wouldn’t be the confident person I am today if I had.” Here's a clip from the #LikeAGirl campaign that inspires me to do my best job as an author to empower kids, especially girls:


 

Besides the link between puberty and girls’ quitting sports, there’s a dark link between puberty and depression in girls. In The Female Brain, Dr. Louann Brizendine writes that in her studies of depression in women, “One day it struck [her] that male versus female depression rates didn’t start to diverge until females turned twelve or thirteen—the age girls start menstruating. It appeared that the chemical changes at puberty did something in the brain to trigger more depression in women” (2).

Talking about this link between depression and puberty, Karen Houppert, author of The Curse: Confronting the Last Unmentionable Taboo: Menstruation, says, “The likelihood of severe depression doubles for girls in the year after the onset of menstruation… While the physical changes girls go through in puberty happen slowly, when they get their periods, they suddenly have a different body image."]

Eager to get my representation of this experience right, I turned to my trusted companions: books. To my utter disappointment I discovered that in middle grade we can write about pretty much anything, but puberty seems to be the last remaining taboo. Of course there's THE period book, Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. Blume's novel has also been one of the most challenged books of all US literature. Judy Blume talks about Margaret, an early bloomer. Rita Williams-Garcia in No Laughter Here tackles not only the issue of puberty in a ten-year old girl, but also the reality of the Female Genital Mutilation that still cripples thousands of girls around the world, including the US.  In the author’s note, Rita Williams-Garcia writes that “every year, approximately two million girls undergo FGM... Although FGM is performed on young girls, materials written for young readers about this topic are scarce."

 What’s even worse, the books that are available are few and, like No Laughter Here, often go out of print. 

In my desire to serve my target audience better by striving to reflect the true experience of growing up in all aspects of the word, I committed myself to read as many books that talk about puberty as I could. My list isn't extensive, by all means. But here are some titles that have used this time in a girls life as an opportunity to create memorable characters and premises. 

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume. Isn't this cover amazing? 

Twelve, by Lauren Myracle, which follows in Margaret's footsteps with a modern day twist

No Laughter Here, by Rita Williams-Garcia, featuring ten-year-old Akilah as she tries to deal with early puberty and her friend's secret 

Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings, by Helene Boudreau, in which a girl discovers she's a mermaid after she gets her first period. 

Finnikin of the Rock, by Melina Marchetta, in which Evanjeline has the power to travel through dreams when she's on her period (a favorite, even though the series is definitely YA,)

Protector of the Small and Alanna, the First Adventure, both by Tamora Pierce. Keladry and Alanna deal with puberty as they try to become knights 

Period Pieces, by various authors, including Cynthia Leitich-Smith, Jane Kurtz, Uma Krishnaswami, and others. Each short story represents a girl dealing with her first period. The cultural diversity in this volume is just beautiful.

Children read to learn about the world, but ultimately, they read in order to learn about themselves, and to acquire the tools required to navigate life’s challenges. Books are the perfect medium through which children (not only girls, but boys too) can learn that menstruation and puberty aren’t gross or shameful topics relegated to whispered chats in a bathroom in junior high or even elementary school. When authors acknowledge this pivotal moment in life, they have the power to give voice and importance to an event that changes a girl forever. 

Not every middle grade book needs to address puberty, but the positive impact on children upon seeing menstruation realistically portrayed in fiction should be an incentive for all of us striving to reflect the true tween experience in our stories. 

Now it's your turn, my friends: Do you have any books to add to the list?