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Books by and/or about Black, Indigenous and People of Color (All Years)

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The CCBC Diversity Statistics FAQs provide essential information and context and can help users avoid time-consuming mistakes when citing or performing independent numerical analysis of our data. The CCBC Media Kit includes a press release and visual images about our 2022 statistics. The media kit press release and images can be used without permission.

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I began this piece out of frustration. Despite the many initiatives to make children's books more diverse and representative of everyone instead of a select white, able-bodied, cis het population, it's still hard to find disability representation in children's books, particularly ones written by disabled folk, and particularly ones that depict multiple identities (Black and disabled, for example). What's happening in the children's publishing industry? I wondered. Are there truly so few books with disabled characters being published? Are things getting any better? What are children's publishing companies doing to be more inclusive of disabled folk?

I decided to find out, and spoke to numerous authors and publishers about disabled representation in the children's book publishing industry. What I discovered is both heartening and worrying. Yes, in many respects, things are improving in terms of disabled representation in children's books. But there are still many gaps in representation and a lack of both understanding and specific initiatives among some (though not all) publishers.

The Stats On Disabled Representation In Children's Books

According to the Cooperative Children's Book Center's 2019 study, only 3.4% of children's books have disabled main characters. Compare this statistic with the CDC's finding that 26% of Americans have disabilities, and it's easy to see there's a problem. The children's book industry is failing to portray the many myriads of ways bodies and people exist and interact with the world. These are ways that many children experience themselves or will experience in the future.

This lack of representation extends to publishing companies as well. Since 2015, Lee & Low Books has tracked diversity within the publishing industry. Their 2019 study had 11% of responders identifying as disabled. This is a marked improvement from their 2015 study, which had only 4% of responders identifying as disabled. But they note this is most likely due to their rephrasing of the question and because of changes in how society in general looks at and defines mental-health issues, not necessarily because the publishing industry is hiring more disabled folk. Even with this increase, the number of disabled folk working in the publishing industry is less than half of the percentage of people who have disabilities in the United States.

Photo by Green Chameleon on Unsplash

Barriers Of Entry For Disabled Writers And Illustrators

In my interviews with various authors and illustrators, a few main themes came up when discussing barriers of entry into publication: Ableism, narrative stereotypes industry professionals have, characters with multiple identities, accessibility at writing conferences, and pushback from readers.

Ableism

Ableism is the intentional and unintentional discrimination against disabled people. These practices often make it difficult for disabled writers to break into the industry and, even once published, thrive and continue publishing. I spoke with Alaina Lavoie, the communications manager for We Need Diverse Books and adjunct professor at Emerson College, about the ways ableism presents itself in publishing.

"Literary agents and editors often turn down books with disabled main characters because they explain they 'can't connect to the story' or don't think the book has marketing potential," she explained. "Once disabled creators do get a book deal, they often face ableism at other levels throughout the process. It may be that they're challenged on book jacket copy, or not given a large promotional budget, or assumed to be a niche book for just a niche audience that isn't seen as 'mainstream.' A lot of the ways that ableism shows up in publishing are subtle microaggressions, and disabled creators often have to continue to advocate for themselves and their work: To get printed ARCs [advanced review copies] made for accessibility reasons, to request accessible event venues for their in-person readings and events, to push for accessibility for online events, to have their work submitted for awards and to the media for promotion."

At every step in the publishing process, from the initial spark to write to the accessibility of ARCs, disabled creators might face a challenge to their work and their disabled identities.

Stereotyping Disabled Narratives

One major ableist hurtle disabled writers face is, even once they've written a stellar book, having non-disabled publishing gatekeepers (from literary agents to editors) reject their book for not following certain stereotyped narrative arcs included in many popular books written by non-disabled writers.

Jen Malia, author of Too Sticky! Sensory Issues with Autism and Associate Professor of English and Creative Writing Coordinator at Norfolk State University, elaborates on the ableist, stereotyped narratives many readers - including publishing professionals - expect to see in books with disabled characters:

"[A] harmful stereotype that reappears over and over again in disabled literature is that disabled people are a burden to their families. It's hard for disabled authors to publish authentic and positive representations in an industry that expects to see these stereotypes from non-disabled authors."

This is why publishing narratives by disabled authors is so important.

An anonymous dyslexic author told me she's had many editors ask her to include dyslexic stereotypes into her picture book manuscript. When she explains that what they want her to include are stereotypes and mostly untrue, they tell her they have trouble connecting to her work and reject it.

Another stereotyped narrative non-disabled readers expect to find is stories where the disabled person "overcomes" their disability. Kati Gardner, the author of Finding Balance, is currently battling this stereotype. "They [publishers] aren't interested in messy, true-to-life, disabled stories," she explained in a group chat of online disabled creators in the kid lit community. "They are only interested in the familiar tropes of overcoming adversity or death. There's no in-between."

Her statement was corroborated when I spoke to the VP of a major publishing house and she expressed the importance of readers, disabled and non-disabled alike, reading stories of people overcoming their disabilities. "How much better that person is after reading such a book," she told me. As a gatekeeper in the publishing industry, she has the important job of determining which books by disabled creators get published. What happens to the disability narratives, then, where the disabled character has no desire to "overcome" their disability? Many in the disabled community embrace their disabled identities as part of their essential self. Also, what happens to the narratives where the disabled person doesn't overcome their disability? Or where the story has nothing to do with their disability? Disability narratives are nuanced and complex and cannot and should not be forced into narrow narrative arcs. What she and other editors like her consider a "good" book with disability representation may be because it has the stereotyped narratives they enjoy. At the same time, they reject more nuanced books by disabled creators for failing to follow these ableist arcs.

Multiple Identities

Speaking of nuanced narratives, what happens when characters are, in addition to being disabled, also non-white and/or LGBTQ+?

"There still needs to be a lot more improvement, especially at the intersections of marginalized identities; most disability books still often feature the white, straight, cis perspective," said Alaina Lavoie.

"It's time we stop saying whiteness in every single category is the default," added Keah Brown, the author of The Pretty One and the 2022 picture book Sam's Super Seats. After the publication of The Pretty One, she received pushback within the disabled community for centering race in addition to disability. While The Pretty One is not a children's title, with 85% of editorial boards in children's publishing comprised of white folk, it's no surprise that when children's books are published with disabled main characters, those characters are almost always white.

James Catchpole, children's book literary agent and author of What Happened to You?, told me he thinks "a lot of the barriers have to do with class, with social background, and who might be expected to be a children's writer (and who can afford to be one...). And that intersects with disability and with race in various ways, meaning some communities are definitely underrepresented in the industry - some drastically so. Whereas if you're an upper-middle-class white person with a good degree and a disability, like me, then that's often not a hindrance." While he was speaking specifically of the UK children's publishing industry, in the United States, BIPOC are also less likely to earn a livable income, and considering the slow growth of racial diversity that's also present in the children's book industry, it's safe to assume that disabled, non-white children's book creators face additional hurdles to publishing their children's books.

It does seem like some publishing companies are attempting to correct the "single identity" focus by actively seeking works from disabled creators like Jessica Lewis, who wrote the novel Meow or Never for Scholastic as an IP work under the name Jazz Taylor. The preteen main character in this charming middle grade novel is disabled, Black, and a lesbian.

Accessibility in Writing Conferences

Writing conferences are considered essential tools for many new writers. Conferences can provide craft lectures, sources for feedback, networking with agents and editors. This is the place many new writers find agents or feedback groups. Yet, many conferences are inaccessible for disabled writers in a variety of ways.

Deaf disability activist and prospective YA author Jenna Beacom told me that conferences remain largely inaccessible for her. She misses out on essential networking. While she's asked for accessibility at some of the conferences she's attended, she fears antagonizing the very people she's supposed to be cultivating a writing relationship with. Instead, she's turned to Twitter to make writing connections, but it takes a lot of her time and energy. She did applaud DVCon as being one of the only accessible conferences she'd ever attended and a source of inspiration for her current writing project. "[O]ne panel in particular," she explained, "was so great that I credit it specifically with the fact that I've written about 50K words since, and am now very close to finishing my book."

If she had been unable to attend that conference due to accessibility issues, then she would've missed out on much-needed inspiration.

While my disability doesn't require many accommodations, I've experienced negative feedback from writing peers at conferences I've attended when I asked for accommodations. I was told by one writer multiple times that I was lazy for using the elevator. Another writer mocked me when I requested food changes at a conference banquet to prevent an allergic reaction, then spent the entire meal complaining I had better food than her and demanding the waiter serve her meals like mine. These scenarios, while minor, create discomfort and added stress to what should be a networking and craft-building experience. They also show ableism in the industry. Would a literary agent overhearing me discuss food allergies with a waiter assume I was "whining" and thus avoid signing me as a client? (To be clear, I wasn't seeking an agent at the time.) Are writers who request accommodations for their disabilities perceived as being high maintenance and not worth working with? These are all issues that need to be addressed.

Photo by Danny Nee on Unsplash

Improvements In Disabled Representation

Most of the writers and illustrators I spoke to have noticed improvements in disability representation. Jen Malia cited the increase in the number of #OwnVoices books leading to more authentic disabled representation. Alaina Lavoie talked about how the publishing industry is "expanding the scope to beyond just books centered around trauma and education (explaining disability at a 101 level) to books about disabled characters going on adventures, solving mysteries, playing sports, and more."

Sarah Allen, middle grade author of What Stars Are Made Of, agrees. "In my opinion," she explained, "disability representation is centered on giving writers with disabilities space to tell their stories. Whether those stories focus on the particular disability directly or incidentally, whether the genre is contemporary, fantasy, or something else entirely. While I'm just one person with one point of view, from what I've seen in the last several years, the space for these stories has only grown and grown. Children's publishing as a whole seems to be more and more aware of the need for these stories and these authors, and the value of disability representation."

In my own experience covering children's books, it seems like 2020 and especially 2021 have seen a marked increase in disabled #OwnVoices children's books. I'm interested in seeing what the Cooperative Children's Book Center's 2021 and 2022 studies will reflect.

As both an agent and an author, James Catchpole has a unique perspective from both sides of the industry.

"I think the industry is changing quickly to keep up with what feels like the rapid pace of change in society, in terms of making space for marginalised voices. I would say disability tends to lag behind race and gender, but there are signs of things shifting nonetheless," he told me.

"To take an example I've recently heard, ten years ago a very celebrated picture book writer in the UK, with some personal experience of disability, had to twist her publisher's arm to accept a story she'd written about disability.

"In contrast, four years ago, when I started showing an early draft of my book What Happened to You? to editors, they were receptive at least in theory, not because I had any pedigree as an author, but because I understood the craft as an agent, and because I had direct personal experience of my subject. (I think the book struggled to sell at that point because Karen and I hadn't got it right yet!)

"Now that my book's here and gaining some traction, a year on from the summer of Black Lives Matter (which really pushed the call for marginalised voices into the mainstream), I'm being actively asked by editors to send them stories by disabled writers. That's quite a change in ten years."

It's interesting and important to note that he's seen a marked increase in interest since the Black Lives Matter Movement. Uplifting marginalized voices for one group does help to uplift other marginalized voices, though specifically addressing some of the unique problems groups of people face is also important.

While it does seem like there's an increase in the number of #OwnVoices children's books with disabled main characters, there's still a lot of room for improvement. As Raymond Antrobus, author of the picture book Can Bears Ski?, told me, "It still seems the industry is generally at pre-school level in how they think and talk about disability." He did express hope, however. "People like Joyce Dunbar, Jillian Weise, Alice Wong, San Alland, Shelia Black, Ilya Kaminsky, Daniel Sluman, Khairani Barokka (just to name a few) have been present and engaged with the issues of ableism and writing and speaking against it for years. There is hope."

Hopefully, publishers will be open to listening to these voices.

What Publishers Are Doing

To better understand what's going on behind the scenes, I emailed 16 children's book publishers. I asked them the same question: "I'm curious about what the people at X PUBLISHER are doing to promote disabled voices and to prevent ableism? Sensitivity readers, a commitment to publishing more disabled voices, and/or hiring more disabled voices?"

Only six publishers responded: Sourcebooks, Holiday House, Candlewick, Orca, Quarto, Running Press, and Delacorte. Five more responded they would relay my message to others, but I never heard back.

I received a variety of answers.
All six expressed a commitment to publish more disabled voices and listed some of their books with disabled main characters.
"We are thoughtful in representing kids with disabilities in our illustrated books and have worked closely with our authors and artists to make sure kids of all abilities and backgrounds are represented in our illustrations. We also welcome and look for books written by disabled voices and hope to increase our offerings there in future lists." -Julie Matysik, Editorial Director at Running Press Kids

"Holiday House, along with our sister companies Peachtree Publishing and Pixel+Ink, continues to seek authors and illustrators who can illuminate the experiences of the neurodiverse and disabled communities." -Derek Stordahl, the Vice President and General Manager of Holiday House Publishing Inc
Three publishers mentioned a commitment to depicting disabled characters even when the book isn't specifically about disability (Orca, Running Press, Candlewick).
"I think the first and most immediate or visible places Orca is working to prevent ableism, promote disabled voices and increase disabled visibility in the children's book industry is through incidental yet intentional representation in our books. And by this I mean our authors, illustrators, and designers are always making a concerted effort to ensure people with disabilities are present on the page. I am not referring only to books like The Disability Experience ... but also picture books like When We Are Kind or We Wear Masks and others. We know how important it is for children - and adults - to see themselves reflected on the pages of the books they're engaging with and we do not want anyone to miss that opportunity." -Kennedy Cullen, Marketing Coordinator at Orca

"Because many Running Press Kids books include versatile texts that speak to groups of children, one way that we have been able to increase disability representation is through art direction. Our Creative Director, Frances Soo Ping Chow, has been instrumental in making sure that group scenes always include characters with a range of mobility enjoying themselves, playing, and engaging with the theme of the book." -Running Press Kids
Three publishers mentioned working with sensitivity readers (Orca, Quarto, Delacorte).
"[A]ll of our titles (whether or not they center disabled characters) are run by sensitivity readers who make sure we are accurately reflecting the experiences of the people we are featuring. This specifically includes sensitivity readers who specialize in disability and ableism." -Mel Schuit, Quarto Group

Both of the people I communicated with from Orca and Delacorte said they utilize disabled sensitivity readers on their books with disabled characters. Beverly Horowitz, Senior Vice President & Publisher at Delacorte, added that she frequently finds herself learning new things from her sensitivity readers.
Three publishers spoke of making the workplace more accessible (Orca, Candlewick, Delacorte).
"As for in office, we always hope that we can make the accommodations necessary to make working with Orca possible for anyone. It is important to us that we work to employ staff from a diversity of backgrounds so that all of our unique ways of engaging with the world can contribute to making books that serve a wide readership and illuminate the breadth of the human experience for all of our readers. Though our actual office, being a heritage building with lots of stairs, may present some accessibility issues for people, we do make sure that remote access is possible for anyone who requires it." -Kennedy Cullen, Marketing Coordinator at Orca

"We are constantly striving to foster and maintain a mutually supportive work community where all individuals feel safe, welcome, and equally free to participate fully and express themselves, regardless of gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, physical ability, background, or any other protected and/or distinguishing characteristic with which they may identify." -Candlewick Press

On the phone, Beverly Horowitz of Delacorte told me she imagines - now that it's been proven that remote work is possible - that even once the company can return to the physical workplace they'll remain remote, enabling more disabled people to work with the company. But she cited no specific initiatives or advocacy of remote work.
Two publishers mentioned making their books more accessible to everyone (Orca, Candlewick).
"We also believe the experience of reading should not be missed by anyone and so we continue to work on making our books as accessible as possible - in all meanings of the word. For us, that means additional features in several series of our print books like dyslexia-friendly fonts and cream-based paper to decrease the contrast for those with language-based learning difficulties, as well as a new collection of accessible audiobooks that include image descriptions." -Orca

"We have licensed large print publishers to publish some of our books. And we have also licensed specialty publishers to create combination braille and illustrated editions of some of our picture books." -Candlewick

Since my initial question did not mention making books accessible to readers, I imagine other publishers might also have similar initiatives.
Quarto mentioned disability-themed book lines.
"I also wanted to call attention to our SEN Superpowers series, which celebrates the positive traits associated with a range of common SEN (Special Education Needs) conditions, boosting the confidence and strength-awareness of children with those conditions, while also allowing for better understanding and positivity among their peers."-Quarto
Candlewick mentioned staff training about ableism and disability.
"We were pleased to send 10 staff members including editors and designers to a Highlights Foundation month-long symposium this past October, which addressed ableism and where attendees deconstructed colonial thinking processes using youth literature, and discussed misrepresentations in books to develop action plans for resisting them. We've also provided groupwide deaf awareness training for Candlewick and Walker staff to coincide with the release of our book Can Bears Ski?." -Candlewick

While I did not email Kokila, a division of Penguin Random House, Keah Brown told me she's had a wonderful experience working with them on her forthcoming picture book Sam's Super Seats, with every single editor from the Kokila team giving feedback on her book and listening to her responses and ideas. Publishers tend to focus on mobility aids in depicting disability, Keah told me, but when she suggested her picture book display disability without mobility aids, like her own, the team embraced the idea.

Albert Whitman did not respond to my email queries, but Jen Malia told me she had a wonderful experience publishing her picture book Too Sticky! with them:

"What I really loved about working with my book editor, Andrea Hall at Albert Whitman, is that she was really patient with me when I made mistakes. For example, I didn't track my changes on my draft of Too Sticky! one time. This included me deleting a scene from the manuscript. I had second thoughts and didn't feel like the scene was an authentic interaction between my main character, an autistic girl, and her classmate. My editor said she thought it was important to show the interaction between them. When I told her what I thought the problem was and suggested a different approach to the scene, she said that worked even better. I felt like we truly collaborated on my book, and she really listened to what I had to say."

I've also noticed an increase in the number of books with disabled main characters published by Albert Whitman, which suggests similar experiences to Jen's and in-house initiatives to increase disabled diversity. Though I want to add that Albert Whitman has a history of failing to pay authors.*

Photo by Tom Hermans on Unsplash

How The Children's Book Publishing Industry Could Be More Inclusive Of Disability

"Nothing about us without us." -Raymond Antrobus

Hire More Disabled People

"The book publishing industry needs to hire more disabled people who are gatekeepers - from agents to editors to publicists to the highest positions within publishers - so disabled authors can be give the space to publish authentic books." -Jen Malia

"I believe the biggest problem in publishing is that decisions on what titles are published and which ones are not are made in a closed room of cis-gendered, temporarily able-bodied, White people. What if the decision-makers decided what books were published based on what titles were missing (especially when looking at global demographics) and what people were asking for?" -Brittany Murlas, Founder of Little Feminist and publisher of We Are Little Feminists: On-the-Go

While all publishers claim to be open to hiring disabled people, few initiate specific protocols that would welcome disabled writers. Topping the list is allowing workplaces to be remote. The past year has proven that remote work is possible, yet every new job listing in publishing states "currently remote, but must live in NYC for when the company returns to office" (or another city, but usually NYC). Alaina Lavoie discusses this issue in a recent article for Publisher's Weekly:

"If there's a lesson that publishers can learn from this pandemic, it's that our industry needs more remote-friendly opportunities if we want to address the widespread ableism and inequality in publishing. We need more remote opportunities in book publishing. Of 166 recent job listings for positions at Hachette, Macmillan, Penguin Random House, Scholastic, and Simon & Schuster, only two specify that they are open to remote candidates, and one of those two is a contract position, not a full- or part-time job."

Remote work is the best and most inclusive way to open up publishing to disabled people. If publishers aren't open to remote work, then they're not creating a welcome environment for disabled folk.

And hiring disabled people will mean having their much-needed perspective on disabled narratives.

Have An Individualized Approach For Working With Disabled People

"I think asking their authors what they need is key. As long as the industry is attentive and willing to bend according to what each individual needs, we'll be in good shape! There's no one size fits all approach to disability; everyone has a unique experience. So being open and willing to work with the author is very important." -Jessica Lewis/Jazz Taylor, author of Meow or Never

"Often, people are looking for a checklist of things they can do to make sure they're being accessible, but the reality is that it varies from person to person and even two people with the same disability aren't the same. So it makes more sense to have a flexible attitude at your publishing house with an individualized approach: Do your processes actually have to be identical for all employees, or all authors and illustrators? Or can you accommodate, for example, phone conversations for someone if email doesn't work for them?" -Alaina Lavoie

Both Keah Brown and Jen Malia shared how having an individualized approach to their books made the publishing experience so much better. Listening, valuing each individual, respecting their needs, these should all be basic tenants of working with disabled people (and really every person), whether they're employees in the publishing industry or authors and illustrators.

Publish More Books With Disabled Characters That Aren't "About" Disability

"I would love to see more disability representation in books that aren't specifically about disability. Of course books that help kids learn about disability are so important and needed, but it would also be great for kids to see disabled characters (especially disabled main characters) with storylines about friendship or magic or monsters too!" -Tyler Feder, author and illustrator of Bodies Are Cool

While many of the authors I spoke to mentioned they're seeing more books with disabled characters that aren't "about" disabled characters, it's still rare. I also cover fantasy and science fiction, and I can attest to how rare it is to see a disabled main character fighting dark magic or riding dragons.

Publish More Books By Disabled Creators

This is a very long excerpt from my conversation with disabled literary agent and children's book author James Catchpole, but I thought he perfectly described why #OwnVoices creators are necessary in diversifying publishing, and how they can bring more to publishing than disability-adjacent creators. That doesn't mean that disability-adjacent creators can't write good and nuanced books with disabled main characters, but that disabled creators should be a bigger part of the story, and they're also less likely to use harmful stereotypes in their books.

"I think the best thing the industry could do would be to start taking disability seriously, as a subject. By this I mean: stop allowing it to be used by writers as a literary device (as crude metaphor or a tool for emotional manipulation, be it for pity or malice or inspiration) and start thinking of it as a specialist subject, on which a level of expertise is required on the part of the writer.

"Where an author writes about a brain surgeon, then assuming they're not a brain surgeon, we expect them to do their research. Where they write about a wheelchair user, then assuming they're not a wheelchair user, we expect them to wing it, and make up any old clichéd rubbish from the accumulated stereotypes knocking around in their unconscious.

"This used to be the attitude with white authors writing characters of colour, and I'd say there's been a long-overdue reckoning on that score. Could we have the same for non-disabled writers writing disabled characters, please?

"Maybe one more thing, as a continuation of the above. Perhaps the reason things have been slower to change with disability than with race, in that regard, is that the industry tends to give non-disabled people who may be disability-adjacent an unearned degree of authority, both as creatives and as so-called 'sensitivity readers' (dreadful term!). I think this happens because of the role of groups around disability - whether charities, the medical profession, or families of disabled people.

"I need to be clear that I'm not saying non-disabled people should never be writing books about disabled characters. It's not as simple as that. As an agent, though, I regularly receive stories on submission from disability-adjacent people. I completely understand the impetus and the good intentions that drive them to write these stories. They want disabled children to feel represented in the books they read, and they quite rightly see how thin the selection currently on offer is - so of course they wish to address this...

"But being adjacent is not the same thing as having that experience yourself, and the great majority of stories I've read by disability-adjacent people follow the same path as books by well-meaning professional writers who are not themselves disabled: almost always, the disabled child either isn't centred in the story, or they aren't given real agency in the plot...or there just isn't a plot, but a slightly empty message instead (usually something like: disabled kids are kids too! Which honestly I'd hope we could take as read).

"My wife Lucy is a wheelchair user, and as a disabled couple we have waded through a great many picture books that touch on disability - the great majority by non-disabled authors - and there are so few that, for all their good intentions, don't actively perpetuate harmful stereotypes. She's posted about those happy few on our Instagram @thecatchpoles, under the hashtag #KidLitCripCrit, for anyone interested." [On a personal note, I love their Instagram]

"It is possible to address the subject of disability well in writing for children, as a non-disabled writer. We've an old favourite from the 90s, Mama Zooms by Jane Cowen-Fletcher, where a non-disabled child delights in riding on his mother's wheelchair - something we well know to be true!

"But what we really need is stories from the perspective of disabled children - stories that centre disabled characters. We'd like to see the industry heed the call for #OwnVoices, by finding and supporting writers who were those disabled children, to write those books."

Work With Disability Organizations

"I think it would be incredibly exciting to see increased coordination between publishing and the many wonderful national and international organizations out there dedicated to disability rights and advocacy. I think everyone in publishing is always looking for positive ways to expand and reach outside the publishing 'bubble,' and when it comes to disability representation, this might be one way of doing that!" -Sarah Allen

Publishing companies could work with disability organizations in numerous ways: conducting anti-ableist training like Candlewick; publishing books together; accessibility discussions for both in-house hiring and in printing books; having a book series chosen by these organizations. The possibilities are endless.

Hire Sensitivity Readers

"After I finished the initial round of illustrations, I worked with a wonderful disability sensitivity reader, Rabbi Ruti Regan, who gave me so much helpful feedback on how to refine my depictions of disability (like adjusting how a wheelchair fit a particular character's legs). Rabbi Regan also completely opened my eyes to ways of including autism representation in the book, like having a character on the 'hands' page drawing a repetitive pattern. I feel really grateful for her help!" -Tyler Feder

I was actually surprised more of the creators I interviewed didn't mention sensitivity readers, and I think that's because sensitivity readers are one way to be inclusive, but it shouldn't be the only way a publishing company ensures their books don't contain harmful stereotypes. I take work sometimes as a sensitivity reader, and I've had mostly positive interactions, particularly with individual authors. Authors have been very happy to implement my suggestions and to do additional research. I've worked with publishing companies twice, and in both instances I felt like they did the minimum after receiving my feedback. It feels more, from my limited perspective, that when a publishing company hires sensitivity readers, it's to check a box, while when individual authors hire me, it's to ensure their books are accurate and in no way cause harm to the disabled community.

Tyler's experience working with a sensitivity reader shows how they can add to the process. Her picture book Bodies Are Cool depicts many different types of bodies and disabilities, so it was necessary for her to do a lot of research into many different disabilities to portray them in her illustrations accurately.

Literary Agents: Be Willing To Work With Disabled Creators

I'm a member of several groups of disabled creators, and, over the past year, I've heard many horrifying stories of literary agents declining to work with an author after discovering they were disabled. This is particularly the case for neurodiverse authors. This should not have to be said, but neurodiverse authors offer a multitude of creative potential for literary agents. Their books offer a unique and needed perspective on the world.

Once again, having an individualized approach is best. Here is Jen Malia describing working with her agent:

"When I was working on a different picture book manuscript also with an autistic girl as the main character, my agent, Naomi Davis at BookEnds Literary, suggested making some cuts to a scene to clarify why my character had an autistic meltdown. I explained why I thought the meltdown probably wouldn't have happened at all without the complexity of what was going on in the scene. She agreed with me, and we left it in with some other tweaks. My agent knows my perspective as an autistic person is important to making my books authentic."

Literary agent Eric Smith recently conducted a Twitter survey about how literary agents can better serve neurodiverse writers. His blog on the results can be found here. I highly recommend all agents read it.

Make Conferences Accessible

This has already been mentioned above, but I also wanted to note that inaccessible publishing industry conferences are also barriers for disabled folk who want to work in the industry. All conferences need to be made accessible, and people who run conferences need to investigate how they can make that happen.

What Are The Implications For Readers?

Readers, whether you're disabled or not, you need to read books with disabled characters. I think readers know and already want that!

When I spoke with Brittany Murlas, the founder of Little Feminist, about her book On-the-Go (which Book Riot editor and contributor Kelly Jensen discusses here), she told me that when the Little Feminist company began trying to find diverse books for their children's book box, they found zero board books featuring disabled characters. Zero. "And 100% of children's books we found featuring people with disabilities were about how they overcame/survived their disability (the one exception is Mama Zooms), portraying disability as a problem to be solved, as opposed to showcasing people with disabilities living their lives and thriving just like any other story would," she added. Considering that 26% of the population is disabled, this is ridiculous.

Readers want and need disabled characters in their books. Readers, while you're not in charge of who publishing companies hire, you can show them you want more disabled representation in your books by buying #OwnVoices children's books by disabled main characters, asking your library to purchase these books if you're unable to afford them yourself, and even writing emails to your favorite publisher, or tweeting them, that you want #OwnVoices disabled representation.

If you're needing some book suggestions, check out all the books I've mentioned in this piece, my list of children's and middle grade titles, and these two lists of YA novels with disabled characters.
*Editors Note: Information about claims against Albert Whitman for failure to pay authors came to light, and was added to the piece, shortly after its publication.

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The Current State of Disability Representation in Children's Books

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I began this piece out of frustration. Despite the many initiatives to make children's books more diverse and representative of everyone instead of a select white, able-bodied, cis het population, it's still hard to find disability representation in children's books, particularly ones written by disabled folk, and particularly ones that depict multiple identities (Black and disabled, for example).

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National Museum of African American History and Culture

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It's simple to be xenial. Welcome others, especially strangers or guests, and make them feel at home. That is an important way to act every day! Download X is for Xenial for early learners ages 3 - 5.

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It's simple to be xenial. Welcome others, especially strangers or guests, and make them feel at home. That is an important way to act every day! Download X is for Xenial for early learners ages 3 - 5.

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In this guest blog post, Monica Kleekamp, a PhD candidate in the department of Learning, Teaching & Curriculum at the University of Missouri-Columbia, discusses the importance of inclusive children's literature and how to critically select texts with regards to representations of disability experiences. What is inclusive children's literature? What is it not? Why is it important?
As students look to the shelves in their classrooms and school libraries, they seek representations of themselves-characters who look, feel, and experience the world in similar ways. The field of children's literature continues to problematize the ways our bookshelves perpetuate representations of white, cisgender, heterosexual, and middle-class characters. A term often added to the end of this list is "able."

Inclusive children's literature that features characters who are either physically and/or intellectually diverse-characters who have been labeled as disabled-remain few and far between. Additionally, those texts that do exist often follow tropes of pity or dehumanization. These texts have also been heavily critiqued for their over-representation of white male characters who access prosthetics.

Educators, librarians, parents, and others interested in getting high quality literature into the hands of children must give critical attention to representation in texts that feature characters with disability labels. Disability labels placed on children by school or medical professionals are never neutral. Rather, these labels bring with them histories of exclusion and a tendency to universalize the disability experience. "Disability" is an umbrella term that carries many different meanings to those in the larger public and individuals with labels. However, we tend to use the word often-without really unpacking what we mean by it, which ends up suggesting that there is only one experience of disability.

Sharing high quality inclusive literature offers an opportunity to talk with and through books that challenge ableist norms-or the standards that have been normalized over time for how bodies and minds "should" function and perform. If we seek to thoughtfully select children's literature with characters who may look, know, and act in diverse ways, it is first imperative to describe what this kind of literature is.

Inclusive children's literature is not necessarily designed to teach children about what a disability is. Instead, this literature serves as an opportunity for those with disability labels to see representations of experiences like theirs in the books they pull from our shelves. These texts also provide opportunities for students who live without labels-those who are deemed educationally typical-to see characters who experience the world in different ways. Immersed in these texts are varied and multiple bodies and minds playing active roles as main characters who tell their own stories through their engagement in authentic relationships.
How can I make an informed decision about which books to select that include disability experiences?
Here, I offer 4 Guiding Questions to consult in your selection process. They are meant to guide your interrogation of the written and illustrated narrative. These questions are not exhaustive, but they do offer entry into making informed decisions when critically selecting inclusive children's literature.

Does the author/illustrator present the character with a disability label as multidimensional?

A disability label is one identity marker-and often not one a character has necessarily chosen for themselves. Memorable main characters are multidimensional and complex. Additional layers of identity are presented in a variety of ways over the course of a story. This might be through decisions characters make, the situations they find themselves in, or the relationships they build. If characters with labels do not develop over the course of the story or do not demonstrate themselves as dynamic and varied, the reader is left with little information other than a label itself.

Whose story is this and who gets to tell it?

There is currently an over-abundance of texts that feature disability from the perspective of a sibling or friend. These characters speak for the individual with a label. In these instances, the story does not belong to the character with a disability label but rather is a narrative about them. Humanizing texts are written from a first-person perspective, centering the voice of the character with a label. There are instances when a third person narrator might also offer the character's thoughts through ideas embedded in the story.

As a reader, how have you been positioned to think about feel about the character with a disability label in this book?

Representations of disability experiences often position characters as individuals worthy of pity who need to be cared for, without offering any insight into the contributions the character makes to their community. This is especially true in texts that feature school settings, where characters with disability labels may be positioned as class pets while other students take turns supervising the individual. Humanizing inclusive children's literature may tackle moments of marginalization, but they do so in complex ways. These texts acknowledge lived moments of exclusion but also include character agency and perseverance in addressing difficult circumstances.

What opportunities does the character with a disability label have in the book to engage in authentic relationships?

Many texts with disability experiences feature one-dimensional friendships-such as the idea of individuals as class pets. In these instances, the character with a disability label is positioned as having a flat identity whose only role is to require support from those around them. This is dehumanizing and suggests that individuals with disability labels do not and cannot contribute in meaningful ways to the relationships in their lives. High quality texts offer representations of relationships in which both individuals contribute to fostering or maintaining that relationship. Humanizing literature may tackle complicated relationships in which characters grapple with peers or adults in moments of exclusion, bullying, or adversity but might also serve as models for friendships that do exist and are possible for individuals with labels.
But if I want to start selecting humanizing inclusive literature to add to my collection, where can I turn for high quality titles?
Each year, the Schneider Family Book Award, in partnership with the American Library Association, awards inclusive literature winners in the categories of teen books, middle grade texts, and books for young readers. While this is a great starting place if you are just beginning your collection, there are other places you can go to read important reviews by #ownvoices such as Disability in KidLit, or the Indigo Project, sites and blogs reserved for inclusive book reviews by individuals who identify as disabled. You might also check out the Disability Visibility Project, which addresses issues of disability representation across media including news, film and television series, etc.

About the Author: Monica Kleekamp is currently a PhD candidate in the department of Learning, Teaching & Curriculum at the University of Missouri-Columbia. Her research centers the literature responses of students who have historically been classified as having significant disabilities in an effort to disrupt what counts as literacy and who counts as literate.

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How to Critically Select Children's Books with Representations of Disability Experiences

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In this guest blog post, Monica Kleekamp, a PhD candidate in the department of Learning, Teaching & Curriculum at the University of Missouri-Columbia, discusses the importance of inclusive children's literature and how to critically select texts with regards to representations of disability experiences. What is inclusive children's literature? What is it not?

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No Reading, No Peace: The Power Of Black Stories Out Loud

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No Reading, No Peace: The Power Of Black Stories Out Loud

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Andrea Davis Pinkney (NPR, July 10, 2020)

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When I was a kid, my brother, sister, and I came to the dinner table prepared to do three things: Bless the food, eat, and share a story. We grew up in a family where the oral tradition was woven into the strands of our everyday lives. Mom was an English teacher. Dad, a grass-roots civil rights organizer who worked in public policy, was a gifted, charismatic storyteller. He didn't hold back when it came to sharing narratives about the dignity of Black people and the struggles we faced and transcended.

Both of my parents were voracious readers who understood the importance of taking books off their shelves and reading them aloud. My folks knew that the difference between just owning a book and experiencing its power stems from the oral tradition that is core to African American life and culture. One of the very first books Mom and Dad read aloud to me was The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats, the first mainstream book to feature a child of color as the central character.

Though Keats was white, his depiction of young Peter, the effervescent boy who goes out in the snow, was inspired by the neighbors and friends in his Brooklyn neighborhood. Keats was a firm believer in celebrating people of color in stories for children. His book was groundbreaking, and a bold step toward progress.

Up to that point, few children's books were set in urban places like the inner-city neighborhood where I was born. And not many celebrated the everyday lives and experiences of Black kids. Each time my parents read the part of the story when Peter returns home after his romp in the snow - He told his mother all about his adventures while she took off his wet socks - warmth filled every part of me. The fact that The Snowy Day has stood the test of time for more than 50 years is a testament to its read-aloud staying power.

As the world embarks on a renewed interest in Blackness, I applaud those who are taking special care to include more Black books in their homes, schools, and libraries. But to ignite those stories, and to bring the realities of racism, Black history, and social progress into the consciousness of kids, young readers need to hear these stories spoken. And they need to hear them often. It's one thing to buy Black books. But sharing them is what truly brings these important stories to life. Reading aloud is the turn-key difference in ensuring that children's books featuring Black and brown characters and experiences have relevance and staying power.

Any teacher will tell you that repetition is a key to learning. Stories stick when they're shared repeatedly. These stories reach deep into kids' hearts where truth lives, and where our children are coming to understand anti-racism and racial harmony.

I believe racism is a disease, and that healing can begin by reading to the kids in our lives, starting with children of the youngest ages.

If we want these stories to give our kids the agency they need to make changes in our world, we need to ignite and invite. To me, books are like lightbulbs - they shine brightest when we turn them on. We bring power to stories by telling them and encouraging young people to talk to us about what they're reading. Similarly, not reading aloud to kids is like giving them lightbulbs that are only partially lit.

According to a report from the publisher Scholastic (where I am an editor and vice president), 85% of children ask questions during read-alouds by the time they're eight years old. Taking a closer look at families' habits during read-aloud time, the report's research reveals that reading aloud with a child is a highly interactive experience - it's a partnership. Parents and children alike say they love read-aloud time because it is a special time with each other.

Adding to this, the American Academy of Pediatrics has released guidelines encouraging parents to read to their children beginning at birth, saying it enhances brain development, language, and literacy skills. Simply put, reading aloud is good for your child's health.

We all want wellness. I believe racism is a disease, and that healing can begin by reading to the kids in our lives, starting with children of the youngest ages. While writing my latest novel Loretta Little Looks Back: Three Voices Go Tell It, the energy of read-alouds was top-of-mind as I crafted the book's narrative. The story features three characters, Loretta, Roly, and Aggie B., members of the Little family, who each present first-person accounts of growing up in the Jim Crow South. Their separate stories - beginning in a sharecropping cotton field in 1927, and ending with the presidential election of 1968 - span three generations fighting for racial equality. The narratives are a mix of spoken-word poems, folk myths, gospel rhythms and blues influences, presented through storytelling's oral tradition, in a series of "go-tell-its" that paint a portrait of America's struggle for civil rights as seen through the eyes of kids who are experiencing it. As a read-aloud, the stories are interactive. It's my hope that young readers will feel the ugly truths of living in a society riddled with bigotry, and will come to understand how the racial realities of the past affect inequality today.

When I invite kids to read select passages with me, they're empowered to speak up about their beliefs. Each time they hear the words of a story coming out of their own mouths, they're emboldened to keep reading.

Sharing the book with classrooms has been a keen reminder that reading aloud is a two-way street. When I invite kids to read select passages with me, they're empowered to speak up about their beliefs. Each time they hear the words of a story coming out of their own mouths, they're emboldened to keep reading. These same kids are more inclined to seek out more books, and they're encouraged to share the books they love with their friends. That's what activism is. A movement begins when a passionate person gathers like-minded people and says, "Let's do this together."

Reading Black books aloud is how a true revolution can begin for stories that illuminate Black and brown protagonists, themes, and depictions. As an author and parent, I've discovered that my own childrenlearn best when they connect content to meaning. When they feel what they're reading, they enjoy it to a greater degree, and retain it more readily.

As my parents taught me, kids hear what they hear - and they also hear what's not said. We teach by what we express, and by what we don't. Before feeling proud about your growing library of African American books, please take the "read-aloud litmus test." It's a simple inquiry: How many of these books have I read to the kids in my life, and do I share Black books on a consistent basis?

In the recent public outcries surrounding Black Lives Matter, one of the key components to the campaign for justice has been an added affirmation to acknowledge the men, women, and children who have been victims of police brutality - Say Their Names. Reading aloud let us do this. When we share books and stories with kids, we say what needs to be expressed. Kids depend on us to open the door to important conversations, and to invite them to pull up a chair so that they can speak to us about what's on their minds. Talking about race can only begin with talking about race. Read-alouds spark necessary dialogues and let kids tell us what they think, how they feel, and what they plan to do to make the world a better place for everyone.

Andrea Davis Pinkneyis the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of numerous books for young readers, a vice president at Scholastic and a past spokesperson for Read Aloud 15 Minutes and the Read-Aloud 21 Day Challenge.

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No Reading, No Peace: The Power Of Black Stories Out Loud

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When I was a kid, my brother, sister, and I came to the dinner table prepared to do three things: Bless the food, eat, and share a story. We grew up in a family where the oral tradition was woven into the strands of our everyday lives. Mom was an English teacher.

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Why Stop at Windows and Mirrors?: Children’s Book Prisms

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Why Stop at Windows and Mirrors?: Children’s Book Prisms

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Uma Krishnaswami, Horn Book, Jan 2019

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It has been twenty-nine years since Rudine Sims Bishop's seminal essay "Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors" was published. Speaking to the lack of children's books with African American characters and themes, the essay called for books to act as windows and mirrors that would allow all children to see themselves and the experiences of others in what they read.

At the time, I was mostly home with my toddler son, collecting children's books and feeling inspired to write. As an immigrant from India, I found myself searching for mirror books to share with my child. I discovered that representations of South Asia and South Asians in American children's literature were not so much negative stereotypes as flat-out missing. What I found in the library was Rudyard Kipling. A genius, yes, but really? That was it? You'd think everyone from the subcontinent was long-ago, faraway, and dead. When a kind librarian handed me a copy of Rudine Sims Bishop's essay, it felt like a custom-made sliding glass door, inviting me to enter the world of children's books.

Nearly three decades later, those questions of whose stories get told and by and to whom have not gone away. If anything, windows and mirrors seem even more important now, at a time when vastly troubling questions are arising. Who "owns" public discourse? Whose America is this? Who can be considered American?

Bishop's beautiful "glass" metaphors are central to the conversation about diversity in literature for young readers. Yet even as diversity and representation remain on the minds of publishers and writers, those metaphors bear revisiting. For example, applying the window image to Native American stories, educator Debbie Reese calls for a curtain: "Native communities resisted historical oppression and continue to preserve our culture by cultivating our ways in private spaces - behind the curtain. While Native people share some of our ways publicly in the present day, there is a great deal that we continue to protect from outsiders."

A window lets you look into a space other than the one you occupy; but (as Reese implies) what does it do to me to be the object of your gaze? In contrast, a mirror reflects my own image back to me. If I can see myself in a text, that text is of interest to me; but why should someone unlike me care? Sliding glass doors allow us to enter a story, but the nature of our engagement with it remains undefined. Surely diverse texts, like glass, are capable of operating in complex ways. What if, in addition to mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors, some books worked like prisms?

* * *

A prism can slow and bend the light that passes through it, splitting that light into its component colors. It can refract light in as many directions as the prism's shape and surface planes allow. Similarly, books can disrupt and challenge ideas about diversity through multifaceted and intersecting identities, settings, cultural contexts, and histories. They can place diverse characters at these crucial intersections and give them the power to reframe their stories. Through the fictional world, they can make us question the assumptions and practices of our own real world.

The prism metaphor occurred to me when changing times made me rethink my own work in progress. When I began writing my middle-grade historical novel Step Up to the Plate, Maria Singh, I saw it as a window text. The past, after all, was past. The events of the 1940s - internment camps, overt racial discrimination - weren't, in my limited vision, likely to recur. But the book took long enough to write that, by the time it was published, the real world had changed. Detention camps for asylum-seekers. Children torn from their families. Truth itself held for ransom. My fictional window had turned into a prism. The past, far from being behind me, was circling back in ways I had not anticipated, forcing me - and readers - to see both sets of events in a newly meaningful light.

With this idea in mind of stories as capable of refracting light - and readers' expectations - I began to search for books that operate as prisms. What the following examples have in common is this: they do not just represent the realities of diverse readers. Instead, they shed new light on the world for all readers.
Blurring Borders of Setting and Culture

Sayantani DasGupta's The Serpent's Secret (Scholastic, 2018), the first book in the Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond series, creates a prism by blurring the borders of setting and culture. The story begins in Parsippany, New Jersey, where reality is quickly altered by an invasion of rakkhosh. What, you might ask, is a rakkhosh? Here and in other instances, DasGupta cleverly sidesteps the need for translation and definitions by showing that demon in action, thereby rendering the question moot. Throughout the fast-paced narrative, the real and the fantastical are scrambled, carrying Kiran far from the place she's always thought of as home. In the process, her identity is also up for grabs. Kiran's parents are not, in fact, her birth parents, and the seemingly fanciful traditional Bengali tales they'd always told her - which she once saw as no more than cultural baggage - are coming terrifyingly true. The cultural particulars DasGupta employs are regionally specific, making the point that, contrary to common American representations of the Indian subcontinent, it isn't one monocultural space. As Kiran is whisked into a world of flying horses and birds that speak in riddles, the reader, too, accepts the implausible and leaps across cultural borders to follow along. Magic can happen, the book suggests, in your space, wherever that is.
Toppling Assumptions of "Familiar" and "Foreign"

Prismatic books can complicate identity in less-high-concept ways for younger readers. Consider the realistic early chapter book Juana and Lucas (Candlewick, 2016) by Juana Medina. The situating of young Juana in Bogotá, Colombia, along with futbol, Brussels sprouts, and abuelos, topples assumptions about home and away, "familiar" and "foreign." Many children are likely to identify with the character's experience of math as a challenge, but when "the English" takes Juana by surprise (" nada de fun!"), it's an additional invitation to child readers to empathize, regardless of their backgrounds. The lighthearted text is funny and self-aware. Although it's sprinkled with enough Spanish words to constitute a mini-language lesson, the absence of a glossary suggests, as in DasGupta's novel, that translation is unnecessary when each word is made clear in context.
Breaking Stereotypes

In the chapter book Anna Hibiscus (Kane Miller, 2010 [a 2011 Boston Globe-Horn Book Honor Book]) by Atinuke, young Anna lives in an unnamed country in Africa "with her mother, who is from Canada; her father, who is from Africa; her grandmother and her grandfather; her aunties and uncles; lots and lots of cousins; and her twin baby brothers, Double and Trouble." Race is not mentioned in the text and only manifests itself in Lauren Tobia's cheerful illustrations. Refreshingly, Anna is not, as one might assume her to be, an outsider to two cultures. Rather, she is an insider to both. Her adult allies may disagree profoundly on essential truths of the world - whether a dog can be a friend, for example, or what constitutes a proper African name - but they all love Anna. Families, the series suggests, are eccentric and wonderful and not easily defined.
Who Is American?

Stacey Lee's young adult novel Outrun the Moon (Putnam, 2017) works by redirecting the light of history, with the San Francisco earthquake of 1906 rocking not just the city but fifteen-year-old Mercy Wong's world. In a way, a parallel quake of sorts has been building up in the character herself. The daughter of immigrants, Mercy is fueled by her ambition, nerve, and growing understanding of the power centers beyond her immediate experience. Lee has said she created this character to bust the stereotypes of Chinese girls as obedient, quiet, and passive. Her story runs counter to dominant narratives of history in which people of color played roles of subservience. Born in Oakland, Mercy longs to be recognized as American, yet she is keenly aware that most people in the city beyond Chinatown do not see her that way. By focusing readers' attention on history via a character of color, the novel reveals ethnic divides and interdependence, as well as the deeply racist order that sustains the wider economic and social fabric of the white world. In the process, it raises questions of how society treats outsiders today and who is deemed to belong.

On the surface, American Street (Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins, 2017) by Ibi Zoboi is a story of arrival in the United States - a mirror text for teenage readers from immigrant families, a window upon that experience for those outside of it. But from the start, Zoboi questions what it means to be American, challenging the notion of immigrant identity as singular and aspirational. With her mother detained at the airport, likely to be deported back to Haiti, Fabiola arrives at her aunt's house in Detroit. Her cousins have reinvented themselves as "American girls," but where does that leave Fabiola?
The Future Illuminates the Present

In an author's note Zoboi writes: "Through Fabiola's eyes, her new world and the people who inhabit it are just as complex and magical as her beloved saints and lwas. She infuses Vodou into everything that happens to her. This is the source of her courage and I think she is more American because of it - this merging of traditions, this blending of cultures from one broken place to another." That synergy is manifest in the character of Papa Legba, ostensibly just an old guy with a bad leg, victim to casual street violence, but in Fabiola's eyes he is a sacred figure. Zoboi sets out to unsettle easy binaries - e.g., the new home versus the old, American versus Haitian. In fact, American Street shifts the trope of becoming American from such predictable dualities to the re-creation of self after a person has been transplanted. Its prism effect lies in focusing the story's light on a marginalized girl, whose viewpoint splinters the Detroit cityscape into something at once frighteningly unknown and magical.

Joseph Bruchac's 2013 YA novel Killer of Enemies (along with its sequels Trail of the Dead, 2015; Arrow of Lightning, 2017; and prequel novella Rose Eagle, 2014; all Tu/Lee & Low) employs the future to illuminate the present. Bruchac upholds a long tradition of dystopian fiction writers extrapolating the sociopolitical trends and realities of their times into terrifying futures. Simultaneously, within what has long been a Eurocentric genre, he places an Apache main character and gives her the power to gain real agency in a world where much of humankind has perished and a mysterious cosmic force has neutralized technology. Lozen is an enigma - armed to the teeth; a near-future descendent of Chiricahua ancestors; a virtual prisoner forced to kill; a daughter; a sister. The character herself is imperfect but she is energized from within. Named for a warrior woman of the Chiricahuas, heir to a people wounded by history, she nonetheless carries an indigenous sensibility, humor, and a worldview learned in part from ancestral stories. But Bruchac is playing with our shared contemporary reality as well. It is no coincidence that the life partner Lozen chooses - Hussein, who sings in Arabic in his prison cell each morning - brings his own yearnings and dreams to their joint pursuit of justice. Allies encountered along the way add to the prism effect. The Sasquatch character Hally exhibits djinn-like qualities, appearing and disappearing whimsically. The bibliophilic Dreamer channels European literature and culture into a common human history, locating their elements among many others. In creating this damaged future, Bruchac questions the accepted narratives of our own past, narratives that have long placed colonized people on the margins.

* * *

Each of the examples above disrupts our view of how things work in the present, or how they played out in the past. They laugh at our follies and expose our weaknesses, whether we come to these books as insiders or outsiders. They make us reconsider whose history we know and whose we have ignored. They may idealize or distort the world of today, fix its wrongs, right its injustices. But they all play with light and shadow, known and unknown, strange and familiar. They invite young readers and those of us who care about them to take another look through the window of a book, to question what it is that the mirror reveals.

From the January/February 2019 issue of The Horn Book Magazine.

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Why Stop at Windows and Mirrors?: Children's Book Prisms

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It has been twenty-nine years since Rudine Sims Bishop's seminal essay "Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors" was published. Speaking to the lack of children's books with African American characters and themes, the essay called for books to act as windows and mirrors that would allow all children to see themselves and the experiences of others in what they read.

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Color-blindness isn’t a virtue. Let’s stop teaching our kids that it is.

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Color-blindness isn’t a virtue. Let’s stop teaching our kids that it is.

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Meena Harris, WaPo (June 27)

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According to its publisher, Dr. Seuss's "story of the Star-Belly Sneetches is the perfect guide for kids growing up in a multicultural world." Indeed, despite some of his earlier work (he drew a number of racist cartoons, including World War II-era propaganda caricaturing Japanese Americans, which he regretted later on), when the Sneetches first appeared as a poem in Redbook magazine in 1953, it was an original, thoughtful way to address prejudice and discrimination, using fictional creatures to stand in for people of different backgrounds.

But Seuss's familiar parable, in which otherwise identical Sneetches discriminate against one another based on who does or doesn't have a green star affixed on their belly, is not without shortcomings: It oversimplifies by presenting constructs such as race, in all their complexity, as being primarily about superficial outward appearance. And the story undermines its own message by relying on a device, "a very peculiar machine," that can add or remove stars at will, allowing Sneetches to modify their previously immutable characteristics "for three dollars each!" For all its charm, the story lacks what Rudine Sims Bishop, professor emerita at Ohio State University - whose students and colleagues have dubbed the "mother of multicultural literature" - calls "the issue of authenticity."

"Literature," Bishop wrote 30 years ago, "transforms human experience and reflects it back to us, and in that reflection we can see our own lives and experiences as part of the larger human experience. Reading, then, becomes a means of self-affirmation, and readers often seek their mirrors in books." But the work that black children must do to affirm themselves in a world that frequently rejects them isn't reflected by the experience of a Sneetch. And more recent kids' books remain trapped in a similar framing - using an inauthentic metaphorical racial dialogue that superficially addresses the problem of prejudice.

Lisa Mantchev's 2015 " Strictly No Elephants" likens people to a menagerie of animals: "Pets," says the book's promotional message, "come in all shapes and sizes, just like friends." It sounds sweet, but it effaces the humanity and dignity that ought to be at the heart of what we teach children. In 2018, " The Big Umbrella" by Amy June Bates employed a different metaphor: An umbrella so big that when it starts to rain there's room for everyone underneath, whether you're "tall," "plaid" or "hairy." This month, actress Kristen Bell and her co-author released their children's book, " The World Needs More Purple People," a call to bridge differences by emphasizing commonalities. "Purple people come in every color you can dream up," the book says. Its inspiration, in Bell's words: "We wanted to create a road map for kids to first look for sameness."

If you're not black in America, protesting is the easy part

Like the other books, Bell's is well-intentioned and kindhearted - and she has been a constructive voice in recent weeks, as Americans have grappled with how best to address systemic racism. She has urged her white social media followers to check their privilege and pledged to "not ignore this conversation, even when it gets uncomfortable, even when I misstep." She bowed out of her role voicing the character of a biracial black girl, "Molly," in the animated series "Central Park" so the part could be recast with a person of color. She laudably vowed to raise her children as "anti-racists." But the "Purple People" message works against that goal, flattening out the beauty and individuality of diversity instead of celebrating difference. However unintentionally, it reduces equality to the notion that we all must adhere to one norm.

On the surface, an ode to sameness might seem timely: Protesters from different communities and different generations have passionately coalesced around the idea that "Black Lives Matter" - an idea that should always have been beyond debate, but that was widely derided just a few years ago - and made it a rallying cry for a desire to live in a more equitable society. But when we're helping children understand how people from different walks of life can coexist, prioritizing common ground too often obscures or erases uncommon experiences. What might seem like a balm - teaching colorblindness - can have the effect of washing out all colors except white, subtly inducing everybody else to present neutral, rather than vividly-realized, versions of themselves.

You shouldn't need a Harvard degree to survive birdwatching while black

Instead of opening an avenue for parents to talk about diversity, the colorblind "purple" metaphor steers parents toward talking to their kids about race without ever having to say the word "black." It's the Sneetches all over again, a euphemistic take that papers over uncomfortable conversations that all parents - white parents, in particular - should be having with their children if they want them to grow up as anti-racists. By indicating that harmony is achieved when everyone becomes more alike, rather than when people learn to embrace themselves and others for their complexities and differences, "purple" doesn't offer a path to talk about race so much as a detour around it. The only authentic human experience this reflects back to us, to borrow Bishop's construction, is the discomfort white Americans feel when talking about race. It leaves black children out of the conversation entirely, wondering why kids who don't look like them don't experience the world the way they do.

This, in part, is why I recently took the leap and became a children's author myself, and why I read books like Matthew Cherry's " Hair Love" and Grace Byers's " I Am Enough" to my daughters. I wrote " Kamala and Maya's Big Idea " because I don't want my daughters to think in euphemisms. They identify as black, and their great aunt and grandma (the main characters in the book) are role models that reflect the best of themselves back to them. I never wanted my kids - or their peers - to think of themselves as purple; I aspire to bring up children who cherish their own culture and revere that of their friends.

In 2018, according to the Children's Cooperative Book Center at the University of Wisconsin's School of Education, fewer than a third of all children's and young adult books in the United States featured a person of color as a main character. Only around one fifth were written or illustrated by a person of color, despite the fact that now most young children in this country are nonwhite. The disparity suggests a lack of industry access and of varying perspectives that emphasize diversity. But even when the subject in children's literature is diversity, we can still sometimes miss the point: We shouldn't want children to imagine a world with no differences. We should want children to value difference. Preparing them for a more just world doesn't mean teaching them to aspire to purple. It means helping them learn to celebrate black.

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Perspective | Color-blindness isn't a virtue. Let's stop teaching our kids that it is.

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According to its publisher, Dr. Seuss's "story of the Star-Belly Sneetches is the perfect guide for kids growing up in a multicultural world."

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One of the main missions of the Sinclair Library is to ensure that our collection and programming offers a diversity of perspectives to develop and affirm identities, create community, build and foster empathy, and inspire action. This newsletter contains a growing list of resources for the Lower School focused on anti-racism, equity, and inclusion for educators and families. Author Christine Taylor-Butler asked, "please provide 20 joyful books for every one book on racism. They need to know that POC kids are like every other kid." We attempt to do this through our collection, programming, and summer reading lists.

Please contact Julie Esanu, Lower School Librarian, if you would like additional recommendations or have suggestions for additional resources. Updated April 1, 2021.

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One of the main missions of the Sinclair Library is to ensure that our collection and programming offers a diversity of perspectives to develop and affirm identities, create community, build and foster empathy, and inspire action. This newsletter contains a growing list of resources for the Lower School focused on anti-racism, equity, and inclusion for educators and families.

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The Numbers Are In: 2019 CCBC Diversity Statistics

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The Numbers Are In: 2019 CCBC Diversity Statistics

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Each spring, the CCBC releases the numbers of children's and YA books by and about BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) received in the previous year. We're later than usual with the 2019 numbers due to the disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic. Additionally, work-from-home limitations mean we can't update the publishing statistics on our website. In the meantime, we hope that this blog will serve as a space to announce the 2019 numbers and provide a few visuals.

Brief explanations of our numbers and charts are included in this post. For a more thorough explanation, please see the Diversity Statistics FAQ on our website.

For the first time this year, we are counting books by and about Pacific Islanders. Previously, these books were included in the Asian/Asian American count; we learned that that was not an accurate way to represent them. Thank you to Uyenthi Tran Myhre for correcting us. We retroactively examined the 2018 numbers in order to extract Pacific Islander numbers from Asian/Asian American numbers for comparison in this post.

Children's Books By and/or About People of Color and from
First/Native Nations Received by the CCBC
2019

Last updated: June 15, 2020

Last Updated: June 15, 2020

Please note that a single book may be counted in more than one category (e.g., one book may have two protagonists, one Black and one Native; a single author may identify as Afro-Latinx). Therefore, "by" and "about" numbers in the charts will not add up to the total number of books received. Likewise, percentages will not add up to 100.

The two charts below compare 2019 to 2018 "about" numbers (US publishers only). We count a book as "about" Black/African, for example, if a primary character, significant secondary character, subject, and/or setting is Black/African.

In the chart above, take a look at the first two bars on the left, labeled "Black/African." In 2018 (blue), we received 390 books that had significant Black/African content, including primary characters, significant secondary characters, subjects, and/or settings. In 2019 (red), we received 452 such books.

This may seem like a significant increase, but it actually represents just a 0.5% change. Since the total number of books we receive varies from year to year, it is helpful to consider percentages rather than raw numbers when comparing years.

Above, take a look at the two bars on the left, labeled "Black/African." In 2018 (blue), 11.7% of the total books we received were about Black/African characters, subjects, and/or settings. In 2019 (red), that number increased to 12.2%.

The above chart shows the number of books by--which means written and/or illustrated--at least one individual who identifies with the specified category. Take a look at the first two columns on the left, labeled "Black/African." In 2018 (blue), we received 193 books written and/or illustrated by at least one individual who is Black/of African descent. In 2019 (red), we received 212 such books.

The above chart shows the percentage of the total number of books we received. Take a look at the first two columns on the left, labeled "Black/African." In 2018 (blue), 5.8% of the total books we received were written and/or illustrated by at least one person who is Black/of African descent. In 2019 (red), that number dropped slightly to 5.7%.

Now let's take a closer look at primary characters (US publishers only). Below are the number of books that had at least one primary character who could be identified as belonging to one of the following categories.

Please note: These numbers are not the same as our "about" numbers. In addition to counting primary characters, our "about" numbers also include significant secondary characters, subjects, and/or settings. The numbers below are only primary characters.

Black/African: 441 (11.9% of total books)
First/Native Nations: 37 (1% of total books)
Asian/Asian American: 325 (8.7% of total books)
Latinx: 197 (5.3% of total books)
Pacific Islander: 2 (0.05% of total books)
Brown skin (see note below): 343 (9.2% of total books)
White: 1,555 (41.8% of total books)
LGBTQIAP+: 115 (3.1% of total books)
Disability: 126 (3.4% of total books)
Animal/Other: 1,085 (29.2% of total books)

Note: "Brown skin" indicates books in which the primary character clearly has brown skin (indicated by illustrations or text), but there are no specific racial or cultural signifiers in the illustrations or text.

For ease of comparison, here are the above percentages in a bar chart:

What does all of this mean? Our numbers continue to show what they have shown for the past 35 years: Despite slow progress, the number of books featuring BIPOC protagonists lags far behind the number of books with white main characters--or even those with animal or other characters. Taken together, books about white children, talking bears, trucks, monsters, potatoes, etc. represent nearly three quarters (71%) of children's and young adult books published in 2019.

Finally, as indicated by the addition of the Pacific Islander category in 2019, we are still learning as we do this work how best to do this work. We are grateful for the feedback and voices of Arab and Arab American colleagues on Twitter and elsewhere who have helped us understand the importance of adding Arab/Arab American as a category; this will be included and reflected in our statistics for 2020 and beyond.

Update: A previous version of this blog post used the term "(dis)ability." It has been corrected to "disability." Thank you to David Gillon for pointing out this error.

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The Numbers Are In: 2019 CCBC Diversity Statistics

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Each spring, the CCBC releases the numbers of children's and YA books by and about BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) received in the previous year. We're later than usual with the 2019 numbers due to the disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic. Additionally, work-from-home limitations mean we can't update the publishing statistics on our website.

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Where is the Diversity in Publishing? The 2019 Diversity in Publishing Baseline Survey Results

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Where is the Diversity in Publishing? The 2019 Diversity in Publishing Baseline Survey Results

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Lee and Low

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The Diversity Baseline Survey (DBS 2.0) was created by Lee & Low Books with co-authors Laura M. Jiménez, PhD, Boston University Wheelock College of Education & Human Development and Betsy Beckert, graduate student in the Language and Literacy Department of Wheelock College of Education & Human Development

Lee & Low Books released the first Diversity Baseline Survey ( DBS 1.0) in 2015. Before the DBS, people suspected publishing had a diversity problem, but without hard numbers, the extent of that problem was anyone's guess. Our goal was to survey publishing houses and review journals regarding the racial, gender, sexual orientation, and ability makeup of their employees; establish concrete statistics about the diversity of the publishing workforce; and then build on this information by reissuing the survey every four years. Through these long-term efforts, we would be able to track what progress our industry shows over time in improving representation and inclusion.

Why does diversity in publishing matter? The book industry has the power to shape culture in big and small ways. The people behind the books serve as gatekeepers, who can make a huge difference in determining which stories are amplified and which are shut out. If the people who work in publishing are not a diverse group, how can diverse voices truly be represented in its books?

The results of DBS 1.0 were stark. 79 percent of respondents identified as White. 78 percent were women. 88 percent were straight. 92 percent were non-disabled. At a time when readers of all backgrounds were demanding to see themselves in books, the publishing industry came nowhere near to reflecting the rich diversity of the United States.

The Last Four Years

The numbers provided by DBS 1.0 contributed to a sense of urgency that has resulted in more diverse books being published in the marketplace today-at least on the children's book side. It is now 2020, and many powerful cultural events, changes, and movements have taken place in the four years since the first survey.
● Donald Trump was elected President.
● The#MeToo movement spread virally after sexual abuse allegations against Harvey Weinstein.
● Black Panther and Crazy Rich Asians, both featuring POC leads and majority-POC casts, broke major box office records.

Within our industry, too, important conversations have changed the landscape:
● Corinne Duyvis coined the term #ownvoices to highlight books where the creator and main character share some form of marginalization.
● Beth Phelan created#DVpit to help diverse creators pitch their work to agents and editors.
● Four educators of color founded#DisruptTexts to question the books commonly taught in high schools.
● Problematic books were canceled, re-illustrated, or rewritten, while The Hate U Give and other diverse titles became New York Times bestsellers.
● Authors of color became more vocal about their place in the industry and their exhaustion with the diversity conversation
● Drag Queen Story Hour started in San Francisco.
● The Romance Writers Association was forced to reckon with its own biases.

After all this . . . has the publishing workforce actually become more inclusive?

Diversity Baseline Survey 2019 Results

Methodology and Response Rate
We expanded the DBS 2.0 to include a larger sample set than the original survey, including members of the Association of University Presses (AUP) as well as literary agents. In 2015, there were 3,706 responses to the survey. In 2019, we received 7,893 responses, showing a 112 percent increase in responses from DBS 1.0 to DBS 2.0.

Like the first survey, DBS 2.0 took a year to complete, beginning in January 2019. Reaching out to companies and trying to connect with decision-makers took the most time. Some companies took a lot of convincing; others agreed to participate and then dropped out for myriad reasons. Ultimately, 153 companies participated, including all of the Big Five publishers, eight review journals, forty-seven trade publishers, thirty-five university presses, and sixty-three literary agencies of all sizes from across North America. You can see the full list of participants here.

The Diversity Baseline Survey (DBS 2.0) was sent to 2,609 reviewer employees, 17,100 trade publishing employees, 1,528 university press employees, and 516 literary agents for a total of 21,753 surveys deployed. DBS 2.0 had a response rate of 36.2 percent. The survey was sent to both children's and adult divisions of each company.

The DBS was sent out directly from each participating company's internal contact person. To ensure the integrity of the data, we worked with a professional survey company called Toluna that administrated and deployed the survey for us. The surveys were completely anonymous, and companies did not have direct access to the results.

All data was analyzed and aggregated by a small team at Boston University consisting of Laura M. Jiménez, PhD (Lead) and Betsy Beckert, a graduate student in the Language and Literacy Department of Wheelock College of Education & Human Development. The team at Boston University ensured the anonymity of individual respondents, and they were the only ones with access to the raw data. Excerpts from Laura Jiménez about the statistics have been included below and are indicated by " ".

Note: DBS 1.0 was deployed in 2015 and released in January 2016. DBS 2.0 followed a similar pattern and was deployed in 2019 and released to the public in January 2020.

Notes and Analysis: What the Numbers Tell Us

The Industry Overall

Race: According to the survey, 76 percent of publishing staff, review journal staff, and literary agents are White. The rest are comprised of people who self-report as Asian/Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander (7 percent); Hispanic/Latino/Mexican (6 percent); Black/African American (5 percent); and biracial/multiracial (3 percent). Native Americans and Middle Easterners each comprise less than 1 percent of publishing staff.

The 2015 survey reported that overall, 79 percent of people who work in publishing self-report as White. Given the sample size difference, this 3 percent change in White employees does not meet the bar for statistically significant change. There is no discernible change to any of the other racial categories. In other words, the field is just as White today as it was four years ago. "

Creating the list of ethnicities for a survey such as this is challenging. We received feedback from DBS 1.0 that some of the race categories were too broad or that subcategories should be separated out, e.g. Asian Pacific Islanders within the Asian American category. But we wanted to be able to compare data as well as to avoid any chance of compromising any individual's personal identifiable information (PII), so we stuck with the racial breakdowns we offered in the first survey, which was based on the US census, with a few adjustments.

Gender: The survey reveals that publishing is about 74 percent cis women and 23 percent cis men. " The 2015 survey reported that overall, 78 percent of people who work in publishing self-report as cis women. The current survey has 74 percent of the respondents self-reporting as cis women. Given the sample size difference, this 4 percent change in cis women does meet the bar for statistically significant change. These numbers may help explain why some feel that book publishing caters more to female readers. Among executive and board member positions this disparity evened out somewhat, with approximately 38 percent of executives and board members identifying as cis men. This reflects the reality that males still ascend to positions of power more easily, even in female-dominated industries.

Concerning our gender question, we had significant input from various experts (listed in credits on the last slide) who helped us vet the choices for this question. Even so, the gender question reveals that about 97 percent of publishing staff identify as cis men or women, meaning that they identify with the genders they were assigned at birth. How does this compare with the general population? We don't really know. That being said, the small number of genderfluid, non-binary, genderqueer, trans man, trans woman, and intersex people in publishing points to the need for publishers to make sure that books on these topics are examined for cultural and scientific accuracy by experts before they are published. We have a separate article on the need for targeted expert readers that relates to this issue. (Note: After receiving feedback regarding the wording of "woman/cis woman" and "man/cis man" in the survey, the terminology has been corrected to "cis woman" and "cis man" respectively in the infographic.)

Sexual Orientation: According to the survey, about 81 percent of publishing staff identify as straight or heterosexual. This category saw the most change over the course of the study. In the initial survey, 88 percent of the respondents self-reported as straight. This survey saw a statistically significant negative change in the number of respondents that self-reported straight at 81 percent. The change can be largely attributed to the number that identified as bi and pansexual, 10 percent. Not surprisingly, most of these are White women, but that again is most likely attributed to the fact that the field is overwhelmingly White women. There was a slight drop in gay representation to 4 percent, and lesbian to 2 percent, with asexual holding at 1 percent.

During the planning of DBS 1.0, we debated internally whether to include a survey question on sexual orientation, since it is a question that human resources departments cannot ask their employees. We ultimately decided that if we did not acknowledge this aspect of diversity, this segment of the workforce would remain uncounted and invisible. Four years later, as the current administration calls for the removal of LGBTQ data collection in the next census, including LGBTQ representation in our survey seems more critical than ever.

Disability : We received good input from disability advocate Ace Ratcliff on the wording choices for this question. This input may have led more people to self-identify as having a disability in DBS 2.0. " There is a statistically significant change from 4 percent self-reporting a disability in 2015 to 11 percent reporting a disability in 2019. The clear majority of disabilities are mental illness (45 percent), physical disability (22 percent), and chronic illness (20 percent). There is a high co-morbidity within this data of mental illness and chronic illness co-occurring. We did some initial investigation into this phenomenon, and these findings are consistent with mental health and medical findings. Although this is not the focus of this survey, we took this to signify that this data is falling into line with other, more established research strands.

One hypothesis for this growth is that it is not growth at all, but a change in the way the field, and our society in general, views mental-health issues. In other words, the field of survey respondents may have experienced an uptick in mental health-issues, but this data is also consistent with national surveys that find more people are seeking out and identifying as experiencing mental-health issues. " In a subsequent blog post, we will share more detailed data related to the disability question.

Departmental Observations

The DBS 2.0 results offer the opportunity to filter responses by department, giving us a better picture of how inclusive (or homogenous) various publishing departments are in relation to each other. Space constraints prevent us from discussing every department, but we wanted to highlight the data for some of the departments that play a significant role in shaping which books are published and how they get into the world: executive positions, editorial, sales, marketing and publicity, reviewers, and literary agents. We also included interns, to provide a glimpse at what our industry's future workforce may look like.

Data for these departments can be found in the slideshow above, and data from the previous study (for comparison) can be found here. A few interesting observations:
● More diversity at the top: The Executive Level saw some fairly significant changes in its numbers, with the percentage of people identifying as White dropping from 86 percent in 2015 to 78 percent today. In addition, the percentage of people identifying as straight dropped from 89 percent to 82 percent and the percentage of people with a disability increased from 4 percent to 10 percent. This is good news, since true change in company culture almost always requires buy-in from the very top.
● Editorial is even more White than before: The percentage of people in Editorial who self-identified as White increased from 82 percent to 85 percent. So, even though more diverse books are being published now, it's fair to assume that the large majority of them are still being acquired and edited by White people.
● Marketing & Publicity is more racially diverse than other departments: Of the departments we address in the slideshow above, Marketing & Publicity is the area with the lowest percentage of White employees (74 percent), although it is less diverse than other departments in the other areas we surveyed.
● More people identify as disabled in book reviewing than in other areas of the publishing industry: Nineteen percent of book reviewers identify as having a disability, while in most other areas of the publishing industry, the number is closer to 10 percent. This trend is in line with data from DBS 1.0. Perhaps this is because reviewers are able to work freelance or remotely, without the constrictions of a 9-5 desk job in New York, which is notoriously inaccessible for those with disabilities.
● Literary agent demographics are in line with the rest of publishing: We did not include literary agents in the first DBS, but their inclusion has not really impacted the numbers because their demographics match the rest of the industry: mostly White, straight cis women who are not disabled.
● Interns are significantly more diverse than the industry as a whole: Of the interns surveyed in 2019, 49 percent identify as BIPOC; 49 percent are on the LGBTQIA spectrum; and 22 percent identify as having a disability. These numbers are a dramatic departure from the overall industry numbers and signal a new, more representative generation of entry-level publishing staff. The question is whether many of these interns will be retained and promoted, or whether they will burn out or leave publishing for other reasons before their presence can truly change the industry.
● Comparing apples to apples, there's still no change: For those who wonder how much the inclusion of literary agents and university presses may have skewed the data, our last data slide removes these segments for a true apples-to-apples comparison to DBS 1.0. The largest change is in the sexual orientation category, which dropped from 88 percent straight/heterosexual to 82 percent. No other category changed by more than 4 percent.

What's next?

Although our baseline numbers have not shown a compelling change, in all cases there was change. As in other industries, increasing diversity in the publishing workforce is a challenge, and change has been slow in coming. But DBS 2.0 did have some positive takeaways. Only three of the Big Five publishers took part in DBS 1.0, so it is a sign of solidarity that all five participated this time. The addition of literary agents and university presses contributed to a bigger pool of participants and gave us a clearer picture of who makes up the industry.

The efforts to make the book community a more inclusive one is an ongoing-oftentimes herculean-struggle, conducted predominately by people of color. The encouraging numbers in the intern section indicate that publishing is trying to reach out to diverse populations. But keeping diverse employees engaged and believing they have a home in this industry is another matter. Without a clear career path and the promise of opportunities for a bright future, retention will continue to be a serious problem, and the needle will not move.

The world has changed a great deal from just four years ago. With so many diverse causes that run parallel to one another that sometimes it can be hard to keep in mind common goals. But until we all start to care about equity, we will not make progress, and any gains the industry makes will continue to be not statistically significant. So, the same questions that we asked four years ago bear repeating: How can company cultures be more welcoming for diverse staff? Do diverse staff members feel comfortable voicing their opinions? Are systems in place to make sure all staff are trained and well versed in diversity issues? And some newer questions to ponder: Have recent conversations on bias and privilege changed your perspective on the systemic problems that exist in society today? Has your empathy grown or receded toward diverse causes in the last four years?

The world is a diverse one. Publishing needs to accurately reflect the world as it is, from the books we publish to the people working in every facet of this business. A lot has happened in four years, and not all of it for the better. Four years from now, what will the next baseline survey show us? And what will those numbers tell us about ourselves?
For permission to reprint or press inquiries, please contact Hannah Ehrlich at dbs [AT] leeandlow [DOT] com

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Where Is the Diversity in Publishing? The 2019 Diversity Baseline Survey Results

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The Diversity Baseline Survey (DBS 2.0) was created by Lee & Low Books with co-authors Laura M. Jiménez, PhD, Boston University Wheelock College of Education & Human Development and Betsy Beckert, graduate student in the Language and Literacy Department of Wheelock College of Education & Human Development Lee & Low Books released the first Diversity Baseline Survey ( DBS 1.0) in 2015.

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My Story

I have been involved in the children's book industry for over 20 years. I joke that they accidentally let me in. Indeed, something must have been going on...stars momentarily aligned, portals briefly opened... because not only did I get "in," but my first book, Prietita and the Ghost Woman was written, translated and illustrated by all queer Chicanx people. Gloria Anzaldúa, Francisco Alarcón and myself.

AND not just that, it's a decolonized retelling of a traditional folktale, La Llorona; AND Prietita, the main character is a young genderqueer person; AND they're apprenticing with a curendera. I mean, oh my gawd, what?! This is amazing! Truly.

I was ushered in on the wings of a multicolored Alebrije singing the song of Xochipilli and Xochiquetzal on the wind, right? YES!

And, not so much.

It was 1996. None of us were closeted, but I know for myself, queerness was not what I talked about when I went on school visits. And on the rare occasion I presented with Francisco I never heard him broach the subject either, with anybody, not once.

Back in the day it was radical enough to be in a school talking about race and ethnicity, belonging and reflection, even equity with kids of color. So the character Prietita and I, put one foot in the proverbial closet. I stayed silent about their gender queerness to the kids, and when asked if I was married I never denied that I was partnered, but if possible I avoided talking about the truth of who my partner was.

A sage queer, I knew how to measure and sense; sidestep, to keep myself safe and solid. I usually had a day's work to get through and I needed to keep things moving.

Incidental homophobia would slow me down.

I'm tattooed, pierced, my hair is dyed and I dress fabulously! To the kids I was an edgy oddity that wanted to PLAY! But at every turn, I could see how my queerness might erase the work I was doing, work that I loved and was committed to. I had a part of myself that would go on autopilot with the kids, the teachers and principals. I was aware of what I was doing, but it was beyond my control.

I was teaching about First Voice and equitable reflection, but honestly, I only felt safe with a part of myself being heard and seen. I was protecting my heart, my livelihood and my life's work. Gentle avoidance and partial acknowledgments became a part of the game. It helped soften the edges as I skittered through situations that would clearly have been inaccessible to me or greatly altered as the BIG QUEER that I actually am.

I comforted myself with the fact that queerness was deeply embedded, coded, into the understory of all my books, whether illustrated or both illustrated and written by me. I knew as queers, we always search for ourselves and each other, between the lines.

First Voice, is the idea that a community should speak for itself.

Working with Children's Book Press changed me. I used the opportunities provided by the press to heal myself, and my own silence and invisibility and still do. Simultaneously, it was CCBC ( Cooperative Children's Book Center) that provided a sane-making, touchstone along the way to reference with their statistics on children's books by and about People of Color and First/Native Nations. I have been sharing them for as long as I've been making books.
The journey has been long. Children's Book Press began moving toward First Voice in 1975. It would be another ten years until CCBC would begin keeping stats for books by and about African American authors, and another 9 years before Native Americans, Latino and Asian Pacific Americans were included. Now another 24 years later, LGBTQ Americans are included in the numbers. 43 years.

Likewise, with 20 years of social justice work in the industry, it wasn't until 2015 after 31 years as an OUT QUEER, that I "formally came out" as an LGBTQI children's book author and artist.

Healing takes time that's why I always call out the heart and the bones of it. We get sick, have kids, dear ones pass. Presidents, politics, social movements. We have to bring our bodies and spirits and emotions through. We must negotiate safety and fury and find peace. It takes time for a paradigm to shift. It has to happen inside and outside. But it is occurring.

I have learned. Voice is a revolution.

The Background Story

VOICE: within a patriarchal, Western society those who can be heard is based on how close one adheres to social standards either by birth or behavior. As a consequence, many queer/trans/intersex authors and artists who create children's books remain silent about their private lives, especially if they're Indigenous or POC.

Across communities, the LGBTQI community has been severely marginalized through deep judgment about who we are. Historically, this has been used to create separation between queer/trans/intersex people and kids in society, even our own. Despite recent progress in marriage, parenthood, adoption, civil rights, social justice, California education initiatives and more, judgment and aggression still happen in both big and small ways. It can be social, political, legal, personal, professional, even physical and can weigh heavily on queer/trans/intersex people, often adding to the silence already experienced as Indigenous or POC.

As a result there is a growing trend. Just like with Indigenous and POC communities, many of the people writing about the LGBTQI community are not from the community, and consequently do not have to negotiate the same kind of structural and personal silence. Instead they are parents of queer/trans/intersex kids, as well as related professionals. They lack lived experience and often any connection to the actual LGBTQI community.

However well-intentioned, their work tends to perpetuate implicit bias and power structures that contribute to the very oppression they hope to mediate. (speaking specifically to children's books)

Not only do those writing from outside the community generally perpetuate the binary and erase its historical context;

- they often prioritize and give greater value to all things cisgender and heterosexual;
- fix emotions and related gender and queer experience as complicated, sad, scary and overwhelming;
- affirm frames that require queer/trans/intersex children to be exceptional, saviors or self-sacrificing;
- focus nearly exclusively on males, especially ones wearing dresses;
- and consistently include bullying narratives.
They also tend to be almost exclusively white.
When we look at the newly documented LGBTQI statistics, we can clearly see that the vast majority of children's books are by non-community members. And while authors could stay in First Voice or #ownVoice as parents and professionals, they rarely do. Instead they step in and speak as authorities and/or use their voice as the voice of the LGBTQI community.

This is problematic on numerous levels. And with great thanks to CCBC for providing yet another touchstone to move forward, the time to heal this must be now. It only makes sense that the same Social Justice frameworks developing for equity in children's books regarding race and ethnicity include the LGBTQI community, especially since queer/trans/intersex people are a part of every indigenous and community of color. It's time to bring this next level of the conversation forward and unite Indigenous, POC and LGBTQI equity in children's books. And beyond. These oppressions are intimately tied together.

Within a social justice frame it must also be noted that the next to be heard in LGBTQI children's books are almost exclusively white, cisgender voices of gay or lesbian people. While necessary and important, they tend to perpetuate uneven power dynamics, including implicit bias around race, ethnicity and sometimes gender. It goes without saying that when white voices are the only ones heard, it gives the impression that only white people are queer and trans.

Who's Controlling the Narrative

It's fascinating to look at the CCBC stats and literally see who's telling stories. Except for the Native American community (which I believe is in large part due to the amazing work of Debbie Reese) ALL MARGINALIZED COMMUNITIES have the majority of their stories told by authors OUTSIDE OF THEIR COMMUNITIES.

There are countless, amazing stories about Indigenous and POC and queer/trans/intersex people that ALL NEED TO BE TOLD, but it matters who is telling them. Not just because there will be greater meaning and veracity for a first voice/own voice author, but because our presence is needed. This is not a trend. This is not about ' diversity sells.' This is about real people and communities. The heart and the bones of it. We are here and we need to have our actual body, spirit and heart included for the change to be both real within and without, and final.

We speak differently, see differently, even feel and think differently and we can and should affect the world. This is our gift and power. Our stories and ideas cannot be co-opted then sifted through white, cis, straight authors and publishers and remain real. Beyond actual plagiarism, the very act of others telling our stories takes our power away, contributing to both real and systemic silence.

These stories about us are not actually about us. Ultimately, they can only ever be frames that show how white, cis, straight authors and society feel about, and see us. Even if they value us, it is still ultimately about them.

I have heard amazing tales of workshops at large conferences specifically designed to teach white authors how to write stories about POC. Is that why in the last 3 years stories about and not by have dramatically jumped for communities of color? What does this communicate and at what level-to Indigenous, POC, LGBTQI people? And what about to white, cis, straight authors and artists? That our lives are a publishing trend? That we are not adequate to tell our own stories? We cannot be trusted to speak our own truth? Or simply that our lives continue to be a source of income for the dominant culture, but not for ourselves?

Sitting at a table of librarians recently, I asked if they thought it was better to have a book that was deeply flawed, or not have a book at all. I thought we might have a lively discussion, and being librarians I thought they'd go for the books, but everyone agreed. It is better to have no books at all than books that are fundamentally flawed. A book out in the world stands as an independent authority. It generally doesn't come with an informed librarian, parent or teacher to point out where to apply critical thinking to see beyond the limitations of the author or how that author fits into a larger dynamic in society. It is what it is.

Books are power.

Children's books are raw power.

First Voice/Own Voice and Healing

I'm haunted by my first book. In my imagination, the spirits of Gloria and Francisco have entered the pages and are walking down the road with Prietita. A self-described dyke, a gay man and a genderqueer youth. Prietita is holding a drawing of Ruda. This is the herb that the curendera needs to help heal their mother. They're committed to finding it even though they must cross into forbidden territory to do so.

Published over 20 years ago, the queerness of this book has become more and more obvious to me recently. It was always there. But healing takes time.

First voice/own voice is an essential turn toward equity. Just like Indigenous and Children of Color, LGBTQIA2S+ kids should have access to stories by and about authors and artists just like them and not have to read between the lines. This open reflection, relevance and empathy contribute to a sense of well being, value and belonging in the world, making it doubly essential for queer/trans/intersex kids from those same communities. The ongoing stigma that separates and silences our community in relation to kids and family is changing, but MUCH more change is necessary.
Has that time come? Now that we're included in the count?
I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm finally ready.

QueerEternal/GenderNow

OUR VOICE is a REVOLUTION.

xomaya

More Links:

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My Story, Your Story, Their Story, Who Gets to Tell It?

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First Voice/Own Voice and Indigenous, POC, LGBTQI Children's Books. There is a growing trend. Just like with Indigenous and POC communities, many of the people writing about the LGBTQI community are not from the community. What does this communicate and at what level? That we are not adequate to tell our own stories?

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Ten Quick Ways to Analyze Children's Books for Sexism and Racism

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Ten Quick Ways to Analyze Children's Books for Sexism and Racism

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Louise Derman-Sparks and the Anti-bias Curriculum Task Force