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From: Tattercoat at aol.com <Tattercoat>
Date: Mon, 25 Oct 1999 12:33:41 EDT
Dear All-?ter returning from another business trip I read the recent controversy in its entirety--and one sitting. Although we've moved on, Eliza, I hope you'll permit me a posting in response.
More than anything, the discussion reminded me of the painful but necessary and ultimately profound changes that our field underwent in the last generation regarding African American experience in children's books.
In the 1950's--when I was a child user--our public library had almost no books with black child characters. Little Black Sambo, Bright April, Joel Chandler Harris' Uncle Remus tales and the Nicodemus stories were about it. There was no Ezra Jack Keats, no John Steptoe, no Virginia Hamilton, Mildred Taylor or Jacquline Woodson--and no Amazing Grace. The word "pickaninny" was used in children's books to refer to black children and was not challenged.
To get where we are today, with a fine body of African American literature for children, we went through a period of criticism and turmoil. Black and wh ite critics pointed out the damage caused to black children by a body of literature that excluded and "otherized" them. Beloved books such as Doctor Doolittle were re-examined for unintentional but none-the-less embarrassing and sometimes outrageous racial stereotypes (there have been at least two revisions of Hugh Lofting's "Prince Bumpo" chapter). Ezra Jack Keats was attacked for being a white artist/illustrator trying to represent black experience.
In response, some?white editors and art directors sought out and actively developed African American talent, people like John Steptoe who wrote and illustrated from within the culture. (Does anyone else remember the huge controversy over the use of Black English in STEVIE?) The Nicodemus stories disappeared from the shelves. Small African American presses produced children's books by, for and about black experience. Words and attitudes were questioned. More and more black voices emerged. Yes, the changes involved pain and anger and soul searching, but you can't walk into a public library today without finding wonderful, rich and varied black child characters. Black writers are now revisiting some of the most criticized books like Little Black Sambo and reclaiming them as culturally important. And Ezra Jack Keats is still on the shelves, well loved and well read.
Our discussion this month--including the anger and frustration expressed--looks to me like a new set of growing pains.?
How exciting to be in a time when true Indian voices like Bruchac and Erdrich are emerging. How painful to examine beloved classics with a new understanding of how damaging they can be for children. All of us--librarians, editors, writers--are challenged to re-examine our assumptions, collections, and cultural viewpoints. What a fantastic opportunity to read, listen, think and grow.
We do need a solid set of criteria for evaluating cultural material--one that we can apply to all cultural perspectives including white. And clearly we need a strong, authentic American Indian literature for children. Early this month, I compared The Birchbark House to the Little House Books because of their similarities--and because both accurately represent a child's experience from within two opposing cultures at a time of great conflict. As our collections change and grow I hope we will retain the authentic voices, cull the inauthentic and inaccurate material and have a rich new literature to add to our shelves.
Our discussion is part of this difficult and important work.
Carolyn Lehman
Received on Mon 25 Oct 1999 11:33:41 AM CDT
Date: Mon, 25 Oct 1999 12:33:41 EDT
Dear All-?ter returning from another business trip I read the recent controversy in its entirety--and one sitting. Although we've moved on, Eliza, I hope you'll permit me a posting in response.
More than anything, the discussion reminded me of the painful but necessary and ultimately profound changes that our field underwent in the last generation regarding African American experience in children's books.
In the 1950's--when I was a child user--our public library had almost no books with black child characters. Little Black Sambo, Bright April, Joel Chandler Harris' Uncle Remus tales and the Nicodemus stories were about it. There was no Ezra Jack Keats, no John Steptoe, no Virginia Hamilton, Mildred Taylor or Jacquline Woodson--and no Amazing Grace. The word "pickaninny" was used in children's books to refer to black children and was not challenged.
To get where we are today, with a fine body of African American literature for children, we went through a period of criticism and turmoil. Black and wh ite critics pointed out the damage caused to black children by a body of literature that excluded and "otherized" them. Beloved books such as Doctor Doolittle were re-examined for unintentional but none-the-less embarrassing and sometimes outrageous racial stereotypes (there have been at least two revisions of Hugh Lofting's "Prince Bumpo" chapter). Ezra Jack Keats was attacked for being a white artist/illustrator trying to represent black experience.
In response, some?white editors and art directors sought out and actively developed African American talent, people like John Steptoe who wrote and illustrated from within the culture. (Does anyone else remember the huge controversy over the use of Black English in STEVIE?) The Nicodemus stories disappeared from the shelves. Small African American presses produced children's books by, for and about black experience. Words and attitudes were questioned. More and more black voices emerged. Yes, the changes involved pain and anger and soul searching, but you can't walk into a public library today without finding wonderful, rich and varied black child characters. Black writers are now revisiting some of the most criticized books like Little Black Sambo and reclaiming them as culturally important. And Ezra Jack Keats is still on the shelves, well loved and well read.
Our discussion this month--including the anger and frustration expressed--looks to me like a new set of growing pains.?
How exciting to be in a time when true Indian voices like Bruchac and Erdrich are emerging. How painful to examine beloved classics with a new understanding of how damaging they can be for children. All of us--librarians, editors, writers--are challenged to re-examine our assumptions, collections, and cultural viewpoints. What a fantastic opportunity to read, listen, think and grow.
We do need a solid set of criteria for evaluating cultural material--one that we can apply to all cultural perspectives including white. And clearly we need a strong, authentic American Indian literature for children. Early this month, I compared The Birchbark House to the Little House Books because of their similarities--and because both accurately represent a child's experience from within two opposing cultures at a time of great conflict. As our collections change and grow I hope we will retain the authentic voices, cull the inauthentic and inaccurate material and have a rich new literature to add to our shelves.
Our discussion is part of this difficult and important work.
Carolyn Lehman
Received on Mon 25 Oct 1999 11:33:41 AM CDT
