Colorism and Skin Lightening

A few years ago, the cosmetics company L'Oreal came under fire for lightening Beyoncé's skin in a print ad, and the controversy brought the issue of colorism to the forefront of public discourse.  Colorism is "the stigma associated with skin complexion" or, practically speaking, the widespread privileging of light skin over dark skin.  This privileging occurs within and among many different ethnic groups; and in the United States, it goes back to slavery and the resulting skin color hierarchy within the African-American community.  In other words, black men and (especially) women with lighter skin are often seen as more attractive than people with darker skin.

Sadly, children's literature is not exempt from colorism.  I recently received a copy of Beauty and the Beast, a picture book written by H. Chuku Lee, illustrated by Pat Cummings, and published by Harper Collins earlier this month.

As you can see, the young woman on the cover has light skin.  When I opened the book, I couldn't find this woman in the pages -- everyone I saw had darker skin.  (You can see the illustrations inside the book on its amazon.com page.)  According to the publisher's description, the book is inspired by the Dogon people in Mali.  Here are some pictures of Dogon people:

Wikimedia Commons

Wikimedia Commons

Wikimedia Commons

To make sure I wasn't crazy, I asked some friends what they thought about the cover.  They agreed.  I assume that Lee and Cummings' desire in creating this book was to challenge the assumption that fairy tale heroines should be white and to affirm that brown skin and African heritage are beautiful -- extremely important messages.  What lesson are we therefore teaching our children when we read them a book in which that brown skin is needlessly lightened?

Later, I showed Beauty and the Beast to one of my professors, and she asked me if I'd heard of a book called Liar.

Written by Australian author Justine Larbalestier, Liar is a young adult novel whose protagonist, Micah, is a biracial teenage girl.  However, the original cover of the American version of the book depicted a white girl.  

Many readers (and the author herself) were understandably confused about the cover art and began debating the issue and expressing their concern.  Finally, the publisher Bloomsbury responded to public pressure and Larbalestier's requests and changed the cover to portray Micah as she is described.

This incident points out the power that publishing companies have and the belief that books with people of color on the covers won't sell.  Is this the explanation for the skin lightening on the cover of Beauty and the Beast?  I'm not sure, but I'm going to write to Harper Collins and ask them.  I'm also going to request that they change the cover art to reflect what is in the pages.  As we can see in the case of Liar, readers can use their voices to reach publishing companies and elicit change.  I urge you to take a look at Beauty and the Beast and join me -- colorism in children's literature publishing (and in general) needs to end.

Critical Literacy Isn't Just about Books

Well, the controversial Sochi Winter Olympics end tomorrow.  And I don't know about you, but when I think "Winter Olympics," I think "Jamaican bobsled team."

I LOVED this movie when I was a kid.  (Here's a summary if you haven't seen it.  The main gist is that four failed Jamaican sprinters are introduced to bobsledding by a white American coach, and hijinks ensue.)  During class the other day, it came up in conversation, and a friend admitted that she had liked it too, but, "It's probably pretty... problematic."

Truth.  Looking back, I realize that the movie is full of Jamaican stereotypes and caricatures, and it deserves a closer critical inspection.

My friend's comment reminded me that when we teach our kids about critical literacy, we need to teach them to examine everything critically -- not just books.  They need to question, analyze, and evaluate anything and everything they consume: advertising, music, television, and, of course, movies.

And if we don't teach kids these skills, there's a possibility that they can wind up dressing like this for Halloween (warning: extreme example, so absurdly offensive that I'm seriously wondering whether it might be a lame attempt at satire).

So in honor of the Winter Games, here are a couple of articles presenting two writers' differing opinions on Cool Runnings.  The first article points out many American sports films' stereotypical portrayals of black athletes being "rescued" by white people.  Meanwhile, the author of the second article (who is black, just FYI) argues that Cool Runnings contains "one of the best messages ever about race and identity."

What do you think?

Past and Present: Indigenous Children's Literature

This past Saturday, I gleefully attended the JoLLE (Journal of Language and Literacy Education) Conference, which was masterfully organized by some of my colleagues here at UGA.  Many great scholars and educators presented at the conference, and I was able to attend one session that particularly fascinated me -- a workshop focused on Indigenous children's literature from Canada.

The presenters, Drs. Kristiina Montero and Spy Dénommé-Welch, discussed the current state of education for Aboriginal (First Nations, Métis, and Inuit) students in Canada and then had us look through a selection of picture books by Indigenous authors.  One book that stuck out to me was When I Was Eight, by Christy Jordan-Fenton and Margaret Pokiak-Fenton.

This story chronicles author Margaret Pokiak-Fenton's experiences attending a Canadian residential school as a young girl.  Margaret desperately wants to learn how to read, and she is unaware that the true purpose of her school is to "cleanse" her of her Inuvialuit identity so that she can assimilate into mainstream (white) Canadian society.  Initially unwilling to submit their child to this treatment, her parents resist sending her to the institution, but Margaret eventually gets her wish, only to endure the cruelty of the teachers who run the place.  A follow-up book, Not My Girl, relates ten-year-old Margaret's return home, where her family -- seeing the way that the school has changed their daughter -- holds her at arm's length.

These are tales so tragic that they're almost unbelievable.  But the same thing happened here in the United States at American Indian boarding schools, where educators sought to "kill the Indian and save the man" by severing Indigenous students' connections with their cultures and languages.

Tom Torino, a young Navajo man, before and after attending 

Carlisle Boarding School in Pennsylvania (image via American Indian Issues)

Disseminating these stories is crucial so that we don't forget past injustices, which caused so many Indigenous people pain through the loss of their culture and identity.

Toward the end of the conference session, one of my colleagues pointed out that there didn't seem to be many books about contemporary Indigenous characters in the room, and Drs. Montero and Dénommé-Welch agreed that it's fairly difficult to find these types of books.

While we need to remember the past, we also need to acknowledge the present and understand that Native people are still here.  Their lives and cultures aren't just relics hidden in history textbooks, museums, and heritage sites.  Fortunately, several authors (listed below) write beautiful, nuanced books about contemporary Indigenous characters, but we need more.  So if you know any Native writers who want to share their stories, encourage them!  We need to see more of the past and the present.

Some children's & young adult authors who have written about contemporary Indigenous characters:

• Cynthia Leitich Smith
• Eric Gansworth
• Jorge Argueta
• Sherman Alexie
• Tim Tingle

Controversial Kid Lit

Does controversial children’s literature have a place in the classroom?  I give you the example of The Story of Colors by Subcomandante Marcos, a Zapatista rebel.

Via Wikimedia

But first, a little background info.

2014 marks the twentieth anniversary of the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas, Mexico.  If you aren’t familiar with the Zapatistas, you can access the Wikipedia article about them here.  Put simply, they’re a group of (mostly indigenous) people who declared war on the Mexican government to protest the emergence of NAFTA and to demand human rights for indigenous Mexicans. 

They identify with anarchism and libertarian Marxism, which might sound scary to some.  Also off-putting to some is the members’ wearing masks in public in order to preserve their anonymity, represent their egalitarianism, and to identify themselves with the Zapatista cause.

Via Popular Resistance

They might make you uncomfortable, but take a look at some their demands for their community:

• Democracy
• Universal literacy
• Full equality for women
• Quality health care, housing, and local infrastructure
• Dignity, rights, and respect for indigenous people (who are the victims of discrimination in Latin America)

Many may not agree with their ideology, belligerence, or the way they go about their business, but those demands make sense.

Back to the book.  The Story of Colors is a Mayan folktale put into writing by Subcomandante Marcos, one of the Zapatistas’ spokespersons.  He relates the beautiful tale of how the gods created colors out of a gray world; and Domi – an indigenous Mexican artist – has created stunning, vibrant pictures to illustrate the story.  It’s an exquisite peek into southern Mexican Mayan folklore, and I highly recommend it.  (For a more detailed review, click here.)

This question, however, looms: Should teachers read this book to their students?  The illustrations depict Subcomandante Marcos wearing his mask, which might raise some questions amongst young readers.  Teachers might have to explain who the Zapatistas are and what they believe. 

Also, there are references to sex in the book -- they’re hardly graphic, but they’re there.  For example, here's how Marcos describes the dawn: “The gods woke up after Night had said to Day, ‘Okay, that’s it for me – your turn.’ And the men and women were sleeping or they were making love, which is a nice way to become tired and then go to sleep” (p. 10).

This selection shows readers that different groups of people have different attitudes about sex – it seems that Marcos sees it as a natural occurrence, no big deal.

But should we start that conversation with students?  Would you?

Honestly, I would censor the sexual bits if I were to read this book with very young children (the age group I work with).  But I think this would be a great text to use in a Mexican American Studies or general history class with older students.

As for the illustrations portraying Marcos’s masked face – if a child questioned the presence of the mask, I’d ask them why they thought he was wearing one.  That could lead to some fruitful and interesting discussion about the different things masks can symbolize.

Anyway, what do you think?  Does a book like The Story of Colors have a place in classrooms?  Would you use it with your students?  If so, how? 

References

Marcos, S. (1999). The story of colors / La historia de los colores. El Paso, TX: Cinco Puntos Press.

Take Action to Help Teachers!

A friend of mine is a second grade teacher and can't get books for her classroom -- a problem that US teachers often face.  How sad that we take for granted teachers' inability to provide their students with interesting, quality books due to lack of funding.

But we can do something about it!  You've probably heard of Donors Choose, where anyone can help fund teachers' projects.  You can donate to my friend's project, or you can choose from other projects around the country.  If you can't spare any money, you can take action by spreading the word about these campaigns.

Go forth!

"There is no transformation without action." [Paulo Freire]

Lies My (Texas History) Teacher Told Me

Photo (Russell Lee) via The University of Texas

Ashley Perez just wrote a post for Latin@s in Kid Lit about her upcoming novel, which details the 1937 explosion at a school in New London, Texas.  (You can read a selection here.)  With this novel, she intends to throw a spotlight on the segregation practices in Texas and the Southwest during the first few decades of the twentieth century.  As you may or may not know, Texans practiced not only black/white segregation but also Chican@/Anglo* segregation.

What's disturbing is the fact that I (a born and raised Texan) wasn't aware of this latter type of segregation until fairly recently.  Sure, I'd learned about black/white segregation throughout my school years, and I knew that Texans, as Southerners, had engaged in this unjust practice, but that's it.

A few years ago, however, at a Thanksgiving dinner with a friend and her family, and I heard the truth from her grandparents, who had grown up in the 1950s-60s and, as Mexican Americans, faced injustice and discrimination.  In those days, the "Americanization" of Mexican immigrant and Chican@ students was common, and educators banned Spanish and devalued Mexican cultural practices in many Texas schools.  (Sadly, the fear of "foreign" languages and cultures is still a problem in schools all over the US.)

Why didn't I learn about this as a child?  We performed a play about Texas in first grade, and I took Texas History in fourth and seventh grade -- and as far as I can remember, there was never any mention of Chican@/Anglo segregation.  That's why we need authors like Ashley Perez, who highlight these historical events in their writing.  I can only hope that current Texas History textbooks discuss segregation in more detail, and I intend to find out.

What are some historical perspectives in your state that need more attention?  Shine a light on forgotten events and make voices from the past heard!

*Chican@ is a term that refers to US residents of Mexican descent.  (Nowadays, many people put the "@" at the end of the word make the word more inclusive by blending the masculine ending "o" and the feminine ending "a.")  Anglo refers to people of European descent.

The Danger of "Casual Diversity"

A couple of days ago, Betsy Bird wrote a post about children’s books promoting “casual diversity” for her blog on the School Library Journal website.  After defining the term – “diversity [that] is just a part of everyday life” – she provides a list of books that “integrate [diversity] into the storyline without a hitch.”

Those statements made me a tad uncomfortable.  I worry because diversity isn’t casual.

True casual diversity can only exist in a perfect world.  Ideally, people of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds would value and appreciate each other, and everyone would recognize that differences are normal.  But discrimination, inequality, and intolerance based on ethnicity and culture still exist, as we can see clearly from the banning of Mexican-American Studies classes in Tucson and the unprovoked detention of black shoppers at Barney's in New York.  Those are just two high-profile examples of how ethnicity and culture still cause tension every day and everywhere.

Is it beneficial to create and read books in which characters of different backgrounds are presented naturally, authentically, and in a manner that affirms their cultural identities?  Yes!  Do the plots of books featuring diverse characters always need to focus on racism?   No.  But we also need books that explicitly confront inequities.  Ignoring the racism that surrounds us only allows it to fester, so we can’t rest comfortably on casual diversity, expecting it to erase intolerance.