Tag Archives: weneeddiversebooks

I was going to challenge Ellen Oh’s use of “WE”  when I read the first paragraph of her blog post “Dear White Writers“ because I had a knee-jerk reaction and found the use of this collective pronoun problematic. Indeed, I often find sweeping generalization of all kinds problematic.  And because I believe strongly that ANYONE CAN write about ANY topic and create ANY character they are passionate about as long as they have done diligent preparation, her proclamation of “Yes We Need Diverse Books. But that doesn’t always mean that we want YOU to write them” made me feel that I was not included in that general “We.”  My thoughts went immediately to these queries: What did she mean by “We”?  Who are the “We”?  Did she include me, a Chinese American librarian, when she used “We”?  Or did she mean only the people who are officially involved with the #WeNeedDiverseBooks organization?  (By the way, when I submitted my volunteer form through the site, I was informed that too many people were interested in being involved so that my request was denied.)  Or did she mean just the Korean American writers, like herself?   Or all the Asian American writers?  Or anyone that is not White?  Or simply all those who agree with her?  You see — the use of We is too imprecise and too absolute at the same time to not make me think of all the possibilities in one shot!

But I went on and read the entire post and found that I actually agree with most of her points, except perhaps this following accusatory sentiment.  She wrote,

Don’t do it because “you believe in diversity and want to help the cause.” Don’t do it because you think you are helping us. Because you’re not. The truth is, you’re only doing it for yourself. Because you think it is going to help you get published.

I think it is GREAT if all writers believe in diversity and want to help the cause — regardless of their skin colors.  Actually, I think many of such efforts could be very helpful.  In any kind of social movement, ally-ship between the insiders and the outsiders is crucial in its success.  So, I say, please do include diverse characters and address many topics in your books: whether you are white or a person of color and whether you are writing from an insider or an outsider lens.  Just be very aware of which lens you are using and do not presume that you know it all.  You just may be helpful.  I also feel very uncomfortable seeing a universal condemnation to an entire group (white writers, in this case) and accusing them all for wanting something (to be published) that is simply a natural desire for anyone in the field (children’s and YA lit world.)

Aside from this strong disagreement, I want to specifically endorse these following points.

Ellen wrote in her blog post:

We don’t want publishers to say, “Well, we already published a book about that,” and then find that it was a book that did not speak the truth about us but rather told someone on the outside’s idea of who we are.

And I cannot agree more!  “That” refers to topics or characters existing to fill a “diversity quota.”  There should not be a quota.  The publishers of children’s books must start examining their own output and ensure the widest possible diversity in character representations, subject matters, and book creators.  Diversity should not be something that needs policing and reminding.  It should be so natural that no publishing teams would think twice about offering all kinds of books and about all kinds of characters and experiences.  In fact, the publishers themselves should be the frontline champions of diverse books!

Ellen also wrote this paragraph that a white author who has been worrying about whether they are “allowed” to write POC stories should take to heart:

So here’s the truth that needs to be repeated again and again. Don’t write a POC’s story unless you need to tell it with such a burning desire that it will eat you alive and so you will come into our houses and walk in our shoes to get it right, and that way it isn’t written ONLY from a white lens. Don’t do it unless you are willing to invest in a whole lot of time and commitment and get into some heavy conversation about what it is like to live our lives, deal with racism and micro-aggressions and fear and hate. Don’t do it because you think it is a hot trend. Don’t do it because you think it will help you get published. Don’t do it because you just love Kpop and Kdramas and oh wouldn’t it be cool to bring it to an American audience? Don’t do it because your mama is 1/32nd Native American and somehow that gives you a pass to write about the culture (it doesn’t). Don’t do it because it is exotic, mystical, spiritual, etc.

Thank you, Ellen Oh, for proposing these sensible and achievable goals for your fellow writers.  Even though you are not me, WE (two) definitely share a lot of common expectations and aspiration.

It seems that, within the boxing ring of White Mediocrity vs Non-White Mediocrity, Non-White Mediocrity does not stand a chance. It has always been, and will continue to be, if we don’t keep challenging the status-quo, complete Knock-Outs, round after round.  Hey, sometimes, White Mediocrity even wins against Non-White Excellence. There are even White Lousiness knocking out Non-White Mediocrity at Round ZERO.  (Think of all the unpublished manuscripts by “mediocre” non-white authors vs all the published not-so-good ones by white authors.)

This Boxing Ring imagery popped into my head this morning when I started following the recent facebook/twitter/blogsphere face-offs between YA author, Meg Rosoff, and many others, and especially after reading the words from Camryn Garrett on her blog.  The relevant quoted words are at the end of this post, but I want to first go back and track my own journey from being a harsh harsh critic of “diversity books” to one who considers them very differently on this day in October, 2015.

Recently, in Beijing, I encountered so many outstanding Chinese children’s books and I couldn’t help but ponder: why don’t American children have the opportunities to see these books? Why aren’t these books (many of them short picture books) translated and are made readily available in the United States?

Manager Li, who invited me to review the children’s book output in China, said to me one day, “Our best children’s books are as good as the best American books.” And he is right!  But, there is simply not room for these books on the American market.

Why aren’t there more foreign books available in English to American Children?

To answer this bluntly: because much of the U.S. Children’s Book Market exists to support the livelihood of Proper American Authors. Which is completely reasonable and understandable. American Children’s publishers are American. They should take care of their/our own first.  They should definitely put priority on publishing American authors: outstanding, mediocre, or even not that good.

Scouring major children’s book review publications, one can easily see how many children’s books are considered “unworthy” by critics, but are nevertheless published and promoted by the American Children’s Publishers.  (As to what effects this “taking care of our own talents” has on the worldview of the young readers, that’s a totally different, full length blog post coming your way soon!)

But who are the Proper American Authors and Illustrators?

Whom do American Publishers believe deserving priority and support?  Whom do I believe deserving my priority and support — as a reader, as a reviewer, and as an educator?

I have been a harsh judge of books written by non-white authors, especially Asian American authors. Perhaps because I am Chinese and want to feel, oh, so proud of my Chinese & Asian heritage, that I see mediocrity (or pretty much anything below stellar) as a personal disappointment.  I often point out the issues of in-authenticity or pedestrian literary quality of an OK (or more than OK) book that is actually a much needed addition to the diversity pool.  I absolutely believed that diversity topics needed to be packaged within outstanding, excellent books, otherwise, hmm…they kind of reek of hidden or overt agenda and to me, that was a no-no.

This harsh critic mentality is akin to the wisdom passed down from black parents to their black sons and daughters to “behave 200% more politely, talk 200% more eloquently, and dress 200% better” just to have a chance to be treated equally as their white counterparts.  I wanted every single book by Asian American authors to have not only solid character development, not only well-crafted passages, and not only a great plotline: I NEEDED them to be stellar in every possible way and all aspects! Because, how else could we convince the world of our worth?

Recently, I began to wonder, to doubt my former convictions.

I have noticed that any flaw belonging to an underrepresented group is often enlarged ten folds and is seen as evidence of the shortcomings of the entire group; while the flaws found among the protective multiplicity of the dominant/majority group are often made less significant and almost never viewed as the weaknesses of the entire group.  Perhaps this was why I thought that it’s totally all right for the many pedestrian, mediocre, and sometimes even downright bad “majority books” to take up precious space of the marketplace?

But not any more.  And especially not after reading these words from Camryn Garrett on her blog: For All the Girls Who Are Half Monster:

White mediocrity: This is more of a concept, but I’m happy to explain. While there are white authors who are amazing and fantastic and produce great works, there are also white authors who…are just okay. Or even bad. But they’re celebrated and given awards and praise for being mediocre.
…
Meanwhile, people of color are held to actual standards (that sounds rude, but whatever.) They have to work to be good, and sometimes that isn’t enough. Basically, white authors can get on the NYT Bestseller List for being “okay.” A Hispanic author has to be “fantastic” to get the same thing. White authors have to be “fantastic” to win a National Book Award. Black authors have to be “outstanding” to be considered.

I didn’t want to start any fight – not in the Boxing Ring, literal or metaphorical.  But, at the same time, things must be said, and concepts must be challenged. Let the conversation continue!