*Long Post Ahead* Today is Juneteenth, the day in history 138 years ago that slaves in Texas learned that they were free (two years after President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863). Under one of my many hats in the library, I hosted a Lunch & Learn where my guest speaker said something very powerful: Juneteenth is a recognition of how important knowledge is to freedom, for it was a lack of knowledge that kept them bound to slavery, and knowledge that eventually set them free. Francis Bacon famously said “knowledge is power.” Truer words this occasion. It wasn't until six years ago— at twenty three years old— that I first learned of Juneteenth. So in addition to the Celebration of freedom for all, this day is also about Reflection, Knowledge, and Power. Reflection: My coworker and I recently received an award honoring the diverse books we bring into the community on behalf of the library. Not only did we give away books about Juneteenth, but we gave away books written by Black authors, like Octavia Butler, Kai Harris, and Kennedy Ryan (in 2019, became the first black person to win a RITA) and for children, “Remi Blackwood”. We don't just stop at black books; as an ordering librarian, I am amazed and excited each time I see a book written by and about people of color (and an extra surge in LGBTQ fiction). It also saddens me. As a child (and really, into my adulthood), there was zero visibility for BIPOC authors and stories. I'm sure there were some out there, but again… visible. Diverse books were either written by white authors (Chu Ju’s House by one of my favorite authors at the time was written by a white author, and sixth grade required reading of To Kill A Mockingbird, an important story about racism and black pain through the eyes of a little white girl also written by a white woman) or about the trauma of being "other" in a white world (required reading in eighth grade was Black Boy by Richard Wright and Diary of Malcolm X by Alex Haley). This isn't to knock required reading, I was exposed to some of the greats through required reading: Toni Morrison (Beloved in high school and Song of Solomon in College), Zora Neale Hurston (Their Eyes were Watching God in High School), Nella Larsen (Passing in College). But, as a child and really into adulthood, these things I couldn't relate to. They were topics I did know enough about (because they weren't taught and taught well). I had no connection to it. I received my first "black book" from my aunt when I was in middle school: Belle and the Beau, an Avon Teen Romance written by Beverly Jenkins. Though historical fiction, it did not focus on black trauma as a plot device. At its core, it was about a black girl falling in love with a black boy. I asked my aunt for the sequel, Josephine and the Soldier after I ate up the first. Until then, the first black book I bought for myself was after seeing an ad in an American Girl magazine, Honey Bea by Kim Siegelson, about a slave girl on a Louisiana Plantation who, on her 13th birthday, realizes she has a certain power and uses it to thwart the romantic advances of her master and save a boy she likes…. Are you seeing a theme in black books? I frequented Borders Books and Barnes & Noble. I spent almost every day after school at one library or another and read voraciously. I didn't know enough to seek them out, and happening upon them was rare— especially in the genre I gravitate more toward: horror, science fiction, and fantasy. Knowledge: In Tananarive Due’s Introduction to her book, The Wishing Pool and Other Stories, she writes: “As a creative writing student learning from the “canon,” I lost sight of myself as I began writing contemporary realism about white male protagonists having epiphanies. Not genre. Not black women… Gloria Naylor’s Mama Day taught me that a Black woman could be respected writing Black characters and the metaphysical” In a similar situation, the stories I told as a child and wrote were of the default. In my mind, they were either white or undefined. Black characters, in my mind back then, suffered and were slaves. Working at a public library opened my eyes. Going through the stacks, I saw all these books that were not displayed (I found Jason Reynolds’ Track series, and read them all in two weeks!). Paging through ordering magazines and Ingram lists and Publisher’s Weekly, I saw a rise in black (and other marginalized) authors (I JUMPED on My Sister the Serial Killer the moment it hit my library’s shelf, and how I came to discover the work of fellow SHU grad, Michelle Rene Lane). I focused on displays and curated lists highlighting the diverse collection we had (At Night All Blood Is Black, for the speculative/horror fans). I didn't start with the intention of “diversifying the collection.” I started ordering diverse books because I finally had the access I never had growing up to diverse materials. And, because of this, it inspired a push in my library to continue to order and highlight diverse books. In a year, the combined efforts of the Children’s collection development department, and Adults (my department) increased the diversity of the collection by 88% in a single year. Power: #WeNeedDiverseBooks trended on Twitter in 2014 and snowballed into a non profit organization dedicated to bringing the stories of marginalized communities to the forefront so that everyone can see themselves on the page. The movement created by the lack of diversity in children's books, spawned the #OwnVoice movement by Corrine Duyvis meant to inspire authentic stories written by those of the communities written about (“OwnVoice” movement and hashtag are no longer in used as of 2021. Check out Book Riots to learn why). Both movements also lit fires under the publishing community which historically has been “unbearably white” and has favored the careers of white male authors. I read about Serendipity Literary Agency in Publisher’s Weekly at work. Serendipity’s founder Regina Brooks, stated in the feature, “After I saw the dearth in the number of people of color in the business, I made a commitment to try to bring more people into the business and train them.” Serendipity was founded in 2000 and has since cultivated a number of bestselling and award winning authors of color. In my querying journey, I came across literary agent, Hana El Niwairi, a founding member of BIPOC Publishers of Canada. Just as the list and visibility of BIPOC authors are growing, so are efforts within the publishing industry. “Times are also very different now than when I first began testing my skills as a writer,” Due writes in the concluding paragraphs of her Introduction. “With the growing respect for the late Octavia E. Butler, the rise of Jordan Peele, and a slew of talented writers of all races and ethnicities, no speculative fiction syllabus would be complete without a much broader spectrum of voices.” To the person who said about Juneteenth that the slaves should have known that they had been free, and that they should have taken it upon themselves to find out/learn: you don't know what you don't know.
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