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17/9/13 16:40Talks canceled for YA authors Meg Medina and Rainbow Rowell
This makes me sad because both Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass and Eleanor and Park are really good books, and they're books I'd unreservedly recommend to anyone who's dealing with bullying, or who wants some reassurance that life is broader and better than the narrow slice of awfulness that you get in middle school and high school. And they're both actually pretty clean. (I was genuinely surprised that Eleanor and Park has 220 swears in it -- I'm not sure how they were counting. It's a hard book to read because of the abusive family dynamic, but I never thought "Oh yeah, that's a lot of swears." I am not so desensitized that I don't notice these things when they come up!)
But what makes me angry is this:
Yeeeah. Pretty obvious that "inner city" is code for "poor people of color," but it's inaccurate besides; I can't remember the precise neighborhood in Queens that Piddy lives in, but it reads to me as a stable working-class neighborhood like the one I live in. Indeed, the story starts after Piddy's mother gets fed up with the neglectful landlord and moves to a better place.
(It is very possible to be middle-class in New York and have an extremely neglectful, even criminally neglectful, landlord. LOLsob.)
And does Giffin really think that Piddy's problems are "inner city" problems? Her problems are not about being poor; her problems are not drugs, gangs, or any of that stuff that comes up when you think "problem novel about the inner city." She has ordinary teenage friction with her mother; and she gets terribly, viciously bullied. These are things that can happen to people in urban areas and rural areas and suburban areas, to people who have a ton of money or none at all. As somebody who grew up in very different circumstances from Piddy, I found everything in the book very relatable and compelling.
A Chat with Rainbow Rowell about Love and Censorship
It makes me angry that the public library board decided it wasn't appropriate for Rowell to visit the library. I understand that when you have a school-sponsored event, sometimes there are thorny issues there about what you're endorsing for the entire student body, but with a public library -- everybody's free to go or to not go. Anyone who doesn't want to go hear Rowell doesn't have to.
And there's this:
YIKES.
I get a little bit nervous, when I recommend books, that whatever book I'm recommending is going to strike the parent as too weird or too mature or too inappropriate -- it's impossible to be perfect about these things when I'm dealing with books I haven't read in a couple of years, and when I don't know more about a patron than I can find out in two minutes of sullen conversation. But I also know that if it ever came up as an issue, my supervisors would pretty much have my back. And if I were ever put in a position where I could choose a book, relying on good reviews and my own judgement, and have that come back to bite me like that? That's scary. (I hope and expect that the library board will have the good judgement to say NOPE, but still, it's scary.)
This makes me sad because both Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass and Eleanor and Park are really good books, and they're books I'd unreservedly recommend to anyone who's dealing with bullying, or who wants some reassurance that life is broader and better than the narrow slice of awfulness that you get in middle school and high school. And they're both actually pretty clean. (I was genuinely surprised that Eleanor and Park has 220 swears in it -- I'm not sure how they were counting. It's a hard book to read because of the abusive family dynamic, but I never thought "Oh yeah, that's a lot of swears." I am not so desensitized that I don't notice these things when they come up!)
But what makes me angry is this:
Though the book portrays the lived experience of bullying in a way that brings it home for teens, district superintendent Amy Giffin said they decided Medina and her book weren’t appropriate. She added that the book “really more to me seemed to address high school and inner city.”
Yeeeah. Pretty obvious that "inner city" is code for "poor people of color," but it's inaccurate besides; I can't remember the precise neighborhood in Queens that Piddy lives in, but it reads to me as a stable working-class neighborhood like the one I live in. Indeed, the story starts after Piddy's mother gets fed up with the neglectful landlord and moves to a better place.
(It is very possible to be middle-class in New York and have an extremely neglectful, even criminally neglectful, landlord. LOLsob.)
And does Giffin really think that Piddy's problems are "inner city" problems? Her problems are not about being poor; her problems are not drugs, gangs, or any of that stuff that comes up when you think "problem novel about the inner city." She has ordinary teenage friction with her mother; and she gets terribly, viciously bullied. These are things that can happen to people in urban areas and rural areas and suburban areas, to people who have a ton of money or none at all. As somebody who grew up in very different circumstances from Piddy, I found everything in the book very relatable and compelling.
A Chat with Rainbow Rowell about Love and Censorship
It makes me angry that the public library board decided it wasn't appropriate for Rowell to visit the library. I understand that when you have a school-sponsored event, sometimes there are thorny issues there about what you're endorsing for the entire student body, but with a public library -- everybody's free to go or to not go. Anyone who doesn't want to go hear Rowell doesn't have to.
And there's this:
One of the most horrific parts of their challenge was that they asked that the librarians who chose my book be officially disciplined.
YIKES.
I get a little bit nervous, when I recommend books, that whatever book I'm recommending is going to strike the parent as too weird or too mature or too inappropriate -- it's impossible to be perfect about these things when I'm dealing with books I haven't read in a couple of years, and when I don't know more about a patron than I can find out in two minutes of sullen conversation. But I also know that if it ever came up as an issue, my supervisors would pretty much have my back. And if I were ever put in a position where I could choose a book, relying on good reviews and my own judgement, and have that come back to bite me like that? That's scary. (I hope and expect that the library board will have the good judgement to say NOPE, but still, it's scary.)