Date: April 18 (technically 19), 2020
Time of post: 12:39 AM
Quarantine Day: 34
Last Song I Listened To: “Woman's World” by Little Mix
Last Person I Communicated With: Savannah Winkler via
Instagram DMs
Last Thing I Ate: 3 halo mandarin oranges
Last Thing I Read: A Snapchat message
Current Mood: proud
One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: grocery shopping
and finished graduation presents
One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: I mean, I
actually did all the things on my list today
One Reason I’m Stressed Today: I have a big History of
the Book “quiz” to take this weeked
One Reason I’m Happy Today: the ChALC Conference today
was wonderful, and Zetta Elliott is an amazing human being and incredible
speaker!
Dear Apocalypsers,
I’ve been thinking a lot about
identity today. It started this morning with the biannual ChALC Conference. Months
ago, we picked a theme: “Fantastic Identities.” The M.A. Class of 2020 has a pretty
big Children’s Lit cohort—I think there are 6 of us (me, Lexi, Dustin, Mikayla,
Molly, Noelle)—and we’re all involved with ChALC, and we’re all very into
diversity and representation in Children’s Literature. (And it probably helps
that, to quote the best compliment Nick Cady has ever given, “We’ve got to be
one of the gayer cohorts.”) So we knew that if we were going to have a hand in planning
this conference, we wanted it to be about identity. And, because K-State has some
of the coolest connections, we were able to get Zetta Elliott as the keynote
speaker.
Cue COVID-19 mess.
Thankfully, Karin Westman
is the ChALC sponsor, and we were able to move the conference online via Zoom.
In some ways, that was great, because people from across the country were able
to join in. On the other hand, we lost the opportunity to meet Zetta and
potentially have lunch with her and ger her to sign our books and all the geeky
things that a Children’s Lit graduate student would desperately want to do.
But, I’m trying not to get bogged down in that. I’m just going to make Phil Nel
introduce us in person someday.
 |
| A line from Elliott's most recent book, a collection of poetry inspired about the lives of her mother and grandmother. |
Zetta’s keynote address
was called “Magic, Mystery, and History: Forging Radical Black Girl Identities
in Fantasy Fiction,” and she talked a lot about her own family history and her
relationship with her racial identity. It was really beautiful and powerful and
brought up a lot of concerning points about what kinds of books are “allowed”
to feature Black or Indigenous protagonists, and, because of all this drama, award-winning
authors like Zetta Elliott have to self-publish their work to get it to
readers at all. Apparently, most children’s books published with a Black protagonist
are in the “nonfiction,” “biography,” or “historical fiction” category, because
those are the genres that most often win the Coretta Scott King Award. If a
book wins the Coretta Scott King, it’s basically guaranteed to stay in print,
and every public and school library will end up with a copy of it—which is
great news for publishers. So that creates a cycle of only publishing those
genres, and then those genres are the only ones that win, so on and so on—and nobody
wants to “risk” publishing other genres like science fiction and fantasy,
because they might not make a profit immediately. What they don’t see—or don’t
care about—is that introducing books with Black protagonists from different
genres could start trend and that, in the future, there could be a really
diverse array of books up for (and winning) the Coretta Scott King Award.
But that’s not what
capitalism’s about, is it?
Spent my morning at the @chalcksu (digital) conference & was brought to tears by @zettaelliott inspiring words on the need to tell silenced stories. Plus she referenced my all time favorite theorist @Ebonyteach & the world was perfect for just a moment 💙 my highlights (a thread) pic.twitter.com/Kz3dtYcOup— Mikayla Sharpless (@mikaylarstweets) April 18, 2020
When I think about identity,
YA novels immediately come to mind. Teenagerdom is such a hard time, partly
because everyone’s self-conscious and trying to figure out who they are. I
mean, the plot of every teen movie is the "outcast" or
"weirdo" suffering for not fitting the status quo and slowly
"finding their place," usually with people who accept them "just
the way they are." Fantasy and
dystopia YA take the bildungsroman to the next level and throw in a
casual “save the world” mandate or “the world is ending” proclamation on top of
the already dystopic reality of puberty.
 |
| It should be known that the whole Children's Lit cohort is obsessed with Ebony Elizabeth Thomas' book, The Dark Fantastic. We read it for Phil's class last spring and actually got to Zoom with her. And she and Zetta Elliott are friends! Basically, this photo is hella important to us now. |
In Dread Nation (2018), both Jane and
Katherine must come to terms with what it means to be a Black girl in Justina
Ireland’s zombie-infested post-Civil War world. Jane seems to have an understanding
of what being Black means to White society, but she also knows what it means to
her, and she’s learned how to work around the system as much as she can. I’m
thinking specifically of the moments where she makes herself sound uneducated
to get White characters to leave her alone, saying, “My momma says the best wat
to get what you want from people is to give them what they think they
want. They expected me to be stupid, so I used that to our advantage” and “Sometimes
you have to live down to people’s expectations, Kate. If you can do that, you’ll
get much further in life” (Ireland 62, 63). Katherine, who is white-presenting,
has a harder time with her identity, because on one hand, she can live as
a privilege white woman, but at what cost? She tells Jane, “[Passing as white
is] exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want to live the rest of my life as a
liar. To turn my back on my own people” (362).
But identity isn't limited
to teenagers and YA, as Daniel Heath Justice shows us in The Way of Thorn
and Thunder (2011), where many of his characters find themselves straddling
more than one identity. For Tarsa, the main protagonist (maybe?), she struggles
with suddenly having her identity as a Redthorn Warrior taken away as her
Wielder identity is Awakened. Being a Wielder is uncommon, and she is shunned
by her community; she feels out of place herself until Chapter 11
"Becoming" when she accepts her identity. Other characters, like the gender
neutral zhe-Kyn , Averyn, embody characteristics of both genders, and they are
a valued healer in this world. Even Tobhi, who is portrayed as personable,
honest, and well-liked, is "different," as he is a Leafspeaker. His
skills are rare among Tetawi, so he isn't "normal," either, and the
same can be said of Quill the Dolltender. But, for Tobhi and Quill, their
differences (or anomalies) make them highly respected members of their
communities, and there is yet no indication that they ever faced the kind of
discrimination that Tarsa has. Overall, Justice's world is reflective of Indigenous
culture which is more accepting of “anomalous” gender identity than our society
is, in that The Way of Thorn and Thunder views identity as more of a
spectrum than a binary and that "anomalous" people are not
"wrong" but special and important.
 |
| This is a post from an astrology account that I follow on Instagram. It "prescribed" me (a Pisces) 5-10 times a day. I listen to so much music every day, so this was a pretty (and strangely accurate) "pill to swallow.." |
With all of this
bouncing around in my head, I started thinking about my own identity. (Don’t
worry—no Earth-shattering revelations are about to be revealed.) So, I do what
I always do when I need some feel-good energy: I turn on Little Mix. They’re
probably my favorite girl group, and I’ve actually come to appreciate them more
as I’ve gotten older because 1) they’re best friends, and that comes across in
every song they record and every interview they do and 2) they are
unapologetically proud of the things that society tells women they shouldn’t be
proud of, from their weight to their sex lives to “four letter words” to how
big their boobs are (these are the things that definitely made me uncomfortable
at first, coming from a small Southern town, but now it’s what I love about
them). They have a song called “Strip” on their most recent album, LM5 (2018),
and I literally cried came on Spotify today. I was in my kitchen, microwaving
some chicken nuggets, and I just cried. (It’s not even a dramatic ballad! That’s
“Cannonball,” which of course came on immediately after, and I was such a wreck
after those 2 songs, omg.) I think it was this part that got me: “Take off all
my make-up 'cause I love what's under it / Rub off all your words, don't give
a, "uh", I'm over it / Jiggle all this weight, yeah, you know I love
all of this / Finally love me naked, sexiest when I'm confident / You say I
ain't pretty / Well, I say, "I'm beautiful", it's my committee”
(Little Mix).
I don’t have a great
history with my body. There are things about myself that I’m not comfortable
with—my weight, my skin, my teeth—and I generally just feel a little bit like I’m
trying to hide myself. Growing up, I was always told that I was “so smart.” I
was “writing my own ticket,” and “my parents must be so proud.” What I don’t
remember being told was that I was pretty or that I had a nice smile or that
someone had a crush on me. I do remember not fitting into my 7th grade Spring
formal dress because I had gained weight. I remember being told by my neighbor
that we could work out (at 12 and 13) and get me “from a Large to a Medium.” I
remember getting cast as the comic relief character but never the beautiful
leading lady and being told that boys were “intimidated by me.” I remember not
getting asked to Prom. I knew I was smart, and that quickly became my
identity—but I wanted to be pretty.
And, weirdly, it took
moving halfway across the country to find peace with myself. That’s what I
realized today. For years, I thought something was wrong with me. Maybe I
wasn’t particularly pretty; I didn’t hear that much (except from my parents,
but they’re obligated to say that, right?) Maybe I was a little too
chubby or my one wonky tooth was too wonky; I had never been asked out,
never kissed anyone. Maybe I was too loud or weird or naïve or focused
on my career. But when I got here, I found people who loved every part of me—and
told me. And that gave me some much-needed confidence to love myself. Like the
girls of Little Mix say, “If you got little boobs, love it / If you got a big
ass, grab it / If you got nothing big, rock it / It's your life, go get it, if
you want it” (Little Mix).
And, wow, do I want it.
So, if you’ve read the
last 1600 words, thank you. Go jam to some Little Mix. They’re sure to make you
feel good about yourself. (I highly recommend “Joan of Arc,” “Wasabi,” “TheNational Manthem,” “Woman Like Me,” “Shout Out to My Ex,” “Power,” “Salute,”
and “Little Me” in addition to “Strip" and “Cannonball.” "Woman's World" (My "last song listened to" is so powerful, too. Definitely worth a shout out here.).
And, if you’re still
figuring out who you are, may the odds be ever in your favor. You’ll get there.
Katie
Works Cited:
Collins, Suzanne. Mockingjay. Scholastic, 2012.
Ireland, Justina. Dread Nation, HarperCollins,
2018.
Justice, Daniel Heath. The Way
of Thorn and Thunder: The Kynship Chronicles. University of New Mexico
Press, 2013.
Little Mix. “Strip.” LM5,
Syco, 2018.
