eng/295 Week 5 Moral and Ethical Development and Issues in Children’s Literature
Straig Challenging the stereotypes in kids' books
As a teenager, I lived in two worlds: the traditional
Bengali heritage inside our home and the eontem-
porary California of my suburban peers.
Sometimes the gap between those two worlds
seemed huge. Apple pie? Didn't taste it till I got to
college. Our kitchen smelled of mustard-seed oil,
turmeric, aud cardamom. Bikinis? No way. A one-
piece bathing suit felt too revealing (and still does).
My mother never showed her legs in public, even
when she eveiitually shelved her sarecs in favor of
jeans and long skirts. Dating? Fuhgeddaboudit.
My parents' marriage was arranged, and the
clan expected the same for me.
- ^ o
Talk
O n n r
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on Race I trudged baek and forth between cultures, relying heavily on
.stories for insight into the secrets and nnanees of North Ameri- can life. But exactly what did those stories communicate about my place as a brown-skinned foreigner? And, in that mostly white suburb wberc I went to school, why can't I remember any educators who were bold enough to raise the issue?
The best-case scenario is that my teachers were consciously giving me freedom to experienee the pleasure of reading without adult interference. But would it have diminished my cnioynient if an educator had raised questions about race in The Chronicles ofNarnia or The Secret Garden, for example? Looking back, I don't think so. Especially if that educator had appreciated these stories as much as I did.
The more obvious explanation for the omission is that my leacliers and librarians never thought about those kinds of mes- sages, or felt tense and ill-equipped to talk about race. Adult silence about an issue sends a powerful message to young people. In a 2000 essay called "Silence in tbe Classroom: Learning to Talk about Issues of Race," ]eanne Copenbaver, of Ohio State Universit)̂ at Mansfield, writes, "The social stigma attached to candid discussions of racial themes creates a silence preventing explicit talk about race, and tbis silence leads to further, subtle segregation—even within multiethnic, otherwise harmonious classrooms."
These days, it doesn't make sense to steer clear of the subject. We serve a generation of young people who experience race differently from how we grown-ups did. Today's teens are more diverse than we were at their age. The New YorJt Times recently reported that the "enrollment of Hispanic and Asian students in .'\meriean schools has increased by more than 5 million since the 1990s," In 1993, there was a 52 percent chance that two stu- dents selected at random would be members of a different eth- nic group. By 20Ü6, that likelihood had risen to 61 percent.
An increased mixing and mingling isn't occurring only in school, but also in youth pop culture. Tune in to this gen- eration's artifacts—the music, television programs, movies, Lind video games they enjoy. Listen to their jokes. One of the first things you'll notice is that the lines aren't drawn between what kids can or can't say when it comes to ethnic humor, but between who can say it.
This kind of freewheeling banter about race often makes adults uneomfortable, but we can't let that silence us. Here
are five questions that'll help you and your .students discern messages about race in stories. Try these in the classroom, and my guess is that you may end up engaging teens who had seemed reluctant to share their literary opinions,
One eaveat: it was hard to cite hooks written by fellow authors as examples, especially those titles that are written beautifully and are popular with young readers. But my hope is to spur the children's book connnunity to be more thought- ful and proactive about bow and why we write, read, and talk about race. So here goes.
1 . Are the nonwhite characters too good to be true? Stor)tellcrs have oftcu testified tu t h e painful history of raeism in N o r t h America. Nowadays, t h o u g h , m a n y are o v e r e o m p e n s a t i n g for t h e l o n g t i m e exclusion of n o n w b i t e eharacters in books a n d m m ies. Many writers a n d fihnmak- ers are still using race as a tool to s h a p e y o u n g a u d i e n c e s ' feelings about their characters. W h a t ' s t h e formula? W h i t e characters are equated with bad, a n d n o n w h i t e ones are e q u a t e d with good.
With the noblest of intentions, writers sometimes fall into this trap by m a k i n g it clear that a secondary character is a per- son of color. T h e s e nonwhite friends or acquaintances often serve as literary foils for a white protagonist. O n e example might be a wise elder who dispenses advice, like August Boat- wright in Sue M o n k Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees (Viking, 2002). Another might be a victim of hatred who requires tbe protagonist's advocacy, like tbe mystical healer John Coffcy in Stephen King's Green Mile (Scribner, 1996), a character who is often cited as the perfect example of a "magical Negro."
In Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the American Literary Imagination (Vintage, 199i), Toni Morrison described how white authors have used stock black characters to help a white protagonist spiritually a n d emotionally. T h e "magical N e g r o " archetype was lambasted by director Spike Lee d u r i n g a talk h e gave to a gathering of Yale undergraduates. "How is it that black people have these powers, but they use t h e m for t h e benefit of white p e o p l e ? " Lee asked his a u d i e n c e .
M o r e c o m m o n in p o p u l a r y o u n g adult literature is a friend whose two m a i n defining characteristics a r e (a) race a n d (b) success, like Olivia in Sarah Dessen's Lock and Key (Viking, 2008) or Radar in John Green's Paper Towns ( D n t t o n , 2008).
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The more novels about a diverstty of characters wHtten by a diversity
of authors and consumed by a diversity of readers, the better. Ail I'm
asking is tiiat we pay attention to how and yifhy the race of characters
is conveyed in a story, because implicit messages matter.
Ves, I'm glad that unlike their predecessors, today's best-sell- ing authors are creating a diversity of characters. But when the race of a secondary character is defined in a book fea- turing a white hero, I liear a familiar ping of caution in my between-cultures brain. This friend of color is likely to be ontstanding in some way and almost certain to speak a phrase of u isdoni that affects the main character's choices and ac- tions. Thankfully, Dessen and Green are both masterful writ- ers and make Olivia and Radar so real that neither character serves merely as a foil.
Am I suggesting that a white author should never articulate clearly that a secondary character is not white? Not at all I doii"t want to go back to the day when most novels for kids were mainly about white people, nor am I calling for a rule in story- telling that restricts us from creating characters who don't have the same racial makeup as we do. While Id love to see our industry publish, promote, and nurture more emerging writers who aren't white, I agree with Booklist editor Hazel Roehman's now-classic 1995 Horn Book article, "Against Borders," on the issue of who can write for whom:
But what about those who say that an American can never write about Japan, that men can't write about women, that Chinese Ed Young cannot illustrate African-American folklore or tliat the African-American writer Virginia Hain- iltou can't retell the story of tbe Russian witch Baby Yaga? [u fact, some take it further. Only Indians can really judge books about Indians, Jews about Jews. .And further still, you get the extreme, whites should read about whites, Latiuos about Latinos, locking us into smaller and tighter boxes. What I hear echoing in that sort of talk is the mad drum- beat (if aparllieidspeak.
I'm with Rochman—let the stories come. Tbe more novels about a diversity of characters written by a diversitŷ of authors and consimied by a diversity of readers, the better. All I'm ask- ing is that we pay attention to how and why the race of charac- ters is conveyed in a story, because implicit messages matter.
One note, though, when it comes to who tells the story: many, many books for kids about blacks and American Indians have been written and illustrated by white people. In pursuit ufa richer literary selection. I'm eager to see—and bu)'—more stories and art created within those communities.
2. How and why does the author define race? When raee is explicit in a book, ask yourself and your students wbat would have been lost if a characters race hadn't been de- fined bv the writer. Whv did the author choose to define race? If
the only answer you come up witb is "maybe he wanted to show how open-minded he is" or "she could have been trying to move the world toward a hetter day," that's not good enough.
A better answer migbt be, "because the particular com- munity where the action is set is diverse." Or, "because the protagonist knew how to make kimchee from scratch." The story and characters, not the author's best political intentions, should determine whether or not he or she defines race.
AlterTiatively, why didn't he or she let us know the race of the characters? Books for a generation of readers who regu- larly mix and explore race and ethnieity must express diver- sity lest we fall into the trap of the television show Friends. in which an all-white cast lived and worked in an apparently all-white New York City.
Sadly, in the children's book world we're not too far from portra} ing that kind of nonexistent America. Statistics show that 17 percent of students enrolled in American schools are African .'\merican. During 2008, however, the Cooperative Children's Book Center (CCBC) at the University of Wis- consin-Madison fomid that among the 3,000 or so titles they received, only six percent had significant African or African- American content. While 20 percent of the country's students are Latino, onK about two percent of all books reviewed by CCBC had significant Latino content.
When there's no description of race in a story, ask yourself if you imagined the characters as white. If so, why? If not. why not? Sometimes physical descriptors clue us in. Thanks to a residue of teen angst, I automatically translate long, straight hair as "not black" and big eyes as "not Asian." Tear- ing through Kristin Cashore's fantasy Graceling (Harcourt, 2008), for example, I paused when Katsa, the heroine, cut off her long hair. Oh, she's definitely white then. I remem- ber thinking, because Cashore had given uiy imagination substantial freedom to cast the appearance of the characters, defining only the color of Katsa's c\cs (one blue, one green) up to that point.
Of course, if a story's set in rural Minnesota or ancient Europe, most of the characters' cheeks will turn apple-red when they're embarrassed. The setting, characters, and story should take an active lead in deciding that everybody is uliite. not some passive white default mode thai neither author uor reader realized was operational.
When the characters, plot, or setting requires an author to define race, how does he or she accomplish this? Is there a "Korean kid" or a "black girl"? The problem is that socially constructed race words like African American, black, Asian American, and Latina are typically used only for cbaractcrs
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who aren't of European descent. North Ameri- can authors conventionally don't use "European American " or "white" to describe characters be- cause to label every cbaracter's race makes read- ing tedious. Why use any such labels at all, then? I he best answer is because it made sense for a |)articular ebaraeter or a first-person narrator to label people with those terms.
If labels aren't used, hut you know a eharacter is nonwhite, ask yourself aud your students how the author couuuunicated that fact. Check for tired food-related clichés ahout "coffee-colored' skin or "almond-shaped" eyes versus fresh, bold attempts to delineate race and eulture in a story.
3. Is the cover art true to the story? Like adaptations or book trailers, cover art can define the protagonist's race even when it's not specified in a story, hin- dering the reader's imagination from casting the characters. Sometimes, cover art ean even eontradict the content of a .story when it comes to race or culture.
To sell more books, the main eharacter may be portrayed on the cover as less foreign or "other" than he or she is in tbe actual story. Consider the advance readers' copy of Ursula Lt Gnin's Powers (Harcourt, 2007), released with a white model on tbe cover despite the protagonist's Himalayan ancestry.
The final cover art was more in line with the story, but the change raised the question of whether the original model had been selected for wider sales appeal.
It's ironic that in 2004, three years before Powers was released, Le Guin discussed the problem of book covers and race at Book- Expo America, the publishing industry's lai^est event: "Even when [my characters] aren't white in the text, they are white on ihe eover. 1 know, you don't have to tell me about sales! I have iought many cover departments on this issue, and mostly lost. But please consider that 'what sells' or 'doesn't sell' can be a self- tnifilling prophecy. Ifblaek kids, Hispanics, Indians both Eastern and Western, don't buy fantasy—which they mostly don't—could it be because tbey never see themselves on the eover?"
Sometimes books may he packaged with covers depicting a character as more foreign than he or she is described in the story. Nowhere in Cynthia Kadohata's novel Weedflower (S & S/Athenenm, 2006), for example, does 12-year-old Sumiko
wear a kimono. But she does on the eover. For a story about the Japanese internment in North America during World War II, why did the pow- ers-tbat-be make an American protagonist appear more culturally Japanese than Ameriean, espe- cially when a girl in jeans behind barbed wire would have been more historically accurate? Perhaps they were trying to tap into a faseination with all things foreign, amping np the exotic fac- tor so that those looking for a book about "far- away cultures" might buy this one.
Overexot ici zing a nonwhite character to appeal to white readers can happen inside a story as well as on a eover. Take my book The Swiita Experi-
ment (Little, Brown, 1993), the story of an eighth grader whose California home becomes much more traditioual when her grandparents visit from India.
After the novel was published, a reviewer chastised me for the "unnecessary exoticization" of my protagonist. Here's how 1 ended the story, with Sunita chauipiouing her South Asian heritage by trying on a saree and modeling it for the guy she likes:
"You look... just like ! thought you would, Sunni," he whispers when she reaches him. "Are you sure you're still Sunita Sen and not some exotic Indian princess coming to casta spell on me?"
"I'm sure, Michael," she tells him, giving him one of her trademark smiles just to prove it.
I fumed, hut, dang it, the reviewer was right. Exotic Indian princess? What was I thinking? Enduring a twinge of shame, I moved on and tried to learn from my mistake.
When my publisher decided to reissue the book in 2005,1 was asked if I wanted to make any changes. "Yesl" I shouted, pumping my fist.
Here's how the book, renamed The Not-So-Star-Spangled Life ofSunita Sen, ends now:
"You look... just like 1 thought you would. Sunni," he whispers when she reaches him. "Are you sure you're still the same Sunita Sen? The California girl?"
"I'm sure, Michael," she tells him, giving him one of her trademark smiles just to prove it.
T h a n k goodness for second chances.
4. Who are the change agents? It also matters who solves the problem in a story. From Kevin Costner in Dances with Wolves to Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai to Hilary Swank in Freedom Writers, Hollywood has often relied on a messianic outsider to save the day—and pump np the box offiee. A white hero, producers seem to be- lieve, might convince our nation's moviegoers to see a film they might otherwise have overlooked.
Is that also true of books? Is it easier for young white read- ers to connect to a story about poverty or sufferiug in a non- white eulture if a white character helps solve the problem? Can yon find an example of such a hook on your bookshelves or in your elassroom?
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I can. My own. In Monsoon Summer (Deiacorte, 2004), Jazz, an Indian-American girl, travels to India with her family and helps Danita, an orphan, find a way out of marrying an unwanted suitor.
I was startled to discover this thread in my own book, but apart from some tweaking, I wouldn't readjust the plot if given the chance. I believe North Amerieans shonkl be in- volved in the global fight against poverty. Tiie question again is how and why. In Monsoon Summer, I sought to create an authentic friendship between the two girls and introduced the idea of mierocredit as an empowering alternative to hand- outs. I hope, though, that edueators use the booii to raise the "outside savior" question by asking, ''How does Danita 'save' jazz? How does Jazz 'save' Danita? Which girl is the more powerful helper and why?"
Patricia MeCormiek's novel Sold (Hyperion, 2006), an explo- ration of sexual trafficking in Nepal and India, is a good choice to spark discussion about this issue. Let me confess my reluc- tance to criticize anything about Sold because it inspires such a desire among readers—including myself—to battle exploitation and injustice. But I did pay attention when 13-year-old Lakshmi, McCormick s main character, described her eventual deliverer as "The American." A savvy edueator might ask, "If Laksbmi had been rescued by an Indian character instead of by a West- erner, how would that change your view of the story?" Or, "Was it important to make her rescvier a foreigner because those who engage in sex trafficking are often outsiders?"
5. How Is beauty defined? Standards of physical beauty have historically been related to racial characteristics. Lest you think we've moved beyond the cultural correlation between attractiveness and whiteness, head over to Media That Matters (www.mcdiathatmattersfest .org) and view a seven-minute film made in 2005 by teenager Kiri Davis called A Girl Like Me. It's worth showing in your classroom or library.
Davis repeated an experiment eondueted in the 1940s that led to the desegregation of public schools. She presented lilack kindergartners with two dolls—a blaek one and a white one. Then, as in the original experiment, she asked which they wonkl prefer, and whieh doll they thought was "niee" and whieh was "bad." Sixty years or so later, most of the blaek children still picked the white dolls and identified the blaek dolls as "bad."
"In the black community, those who have more European features are put on pedestals." says Davis. "People with straighter bair or lighter skin are often considered beautiful, while those with more African features are considered not beautiful." Its true within Asian cultures as well, where skin-bleaching eream is a best-selling beauty produet and comments about the "fair- ness" of skin are flaunted in marriage ads.
More Asian and Asian-American young women are pur- suing eyelid surgery, a choice explored in An Na's The Fold (Putnam, 2Ü08). In China, a crowd of students underwent this snrgery last summer, the Nanfang Daily reported. "Doz- ens of school children have come daily to our hospital since the beginning of July," said Chen jianfei. one of the doetors. "The youngest ease I have seen is a 13-year-old girl."
Novels can inspire discussion about such cultural views of beauty. Take Pretties, Vglies, and Extras (Simon Pulse), for example, a gripping sci-fi trilogy by Scott Westcrfeld. The aesthetic ideal in that futuristic society includes straight hair that isn't kinky (subtext: not African) and wide eyes that aren't squinty (subtext: not Asian). Does tins mean race is eradi- cated? How does Westerfcld explore and resolve the problem of defining one standard of beauty in his novels?
Finally, let me know if you find hot male fictional heroes who are Asian, like Jaeob in Justina Chen Headley's North of Beautiful (Little Brown. 2009). The documentary Slanted Screen by Jeff Ada ch i explores tbe history of Asian men in American movies and television. In a Washington Post review of the film, Jose Antonio Vargas wrote:
[Slanted Screen]... talks about the revised ending for the actioTi movie Romeo Must Die. a retelling oí Romeo and Ju- liet, where the R&B star Aaliyah plays Juliet to the Chinese actor Jet Li's Romeo. The original ending had Aaliyah kiss- ing Li, a seenario that didn't test well with an "urban audi- ence." So the studio changed it. Tbe new ending has Aaliyah giving Li a tight hug.... Which makes yon wonder: When was the last time, on an American TV show or movie, you saw an Asian-American man as the object of attraction?
Some of you might be wondering: Can't a young reader simply enjoy a story without exploring messages about race? Will the proaetive discussions I've suggested suck the plea- sure out of reading McCormack's poignant Sold, Creen's en- tertaining Paper Towns, Dessen's memorable Loeit and Key. Cashore's enthralling Graveling, Westerfeld's suspensefnl trilogy, or my own pretty good Sunita Sen?
OTI the contrary. I enjoyed reading all of the books men- tioned in this article and will continue to recommend them to teens. When I first encounter a story, I willingly suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment, as poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge recommended. Even with my adolescent baggage in tow, I ignore the between-cniture pings for later processing. It's only when 1 like a story that I set aside the time for a critical reread to explore themes of race, culture, and gender.
In faet, we could have nsed almost any novel published for teens and subiected it to our questions. Try it, Pick up a novel you like (if you're an author, grab one of your own books) and expose it to one or more of the five questions. My hunch is that you'll notice something new, and that this differently angled reconsideration might actually enrich your apprecia- tion of the book. Best of all. asking qnestions like these as an educator breaks the silence in tlie classroom about race. It can engage even reluctant readers, wbo are often thoroughly intrigued by issues of raee and culture.
Our calling as educators and authors i.s to pay attention, both to the young people we serve and to the books they're reading, and to ask questions with them. Great stories, like their human counterparts, are beautiful yet flawed, and dis- cussing them in community can strengthen their power to enlighten, inspire, and let justice roll down.
Mitali Perkins's {info@mitaliperkius.com) latest novel for young adults is Secret Keeper (Deiacorte, 2009).
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