This week we read essays written by Marc Aronson and Andrea Davis Pinkney, debating the merits of race- and/or ethnicity-based literary awards. Aronson argues that such awards encourage the balkanization of literature and make it easier for publishers, librarians, and the reading public to treat books written by and about people of color as a separate strand of literature.
Pinkney argues that, on the contrary, race/ethnicity-based awards open the door for writers and illustrators of color, and create a space for literature that would otherwise be ignored by awards committees (and, as a result, the literary establishment).
Reading the first two essays, I found myself thinking about Utah Phillips' spoken word collaboration with Ani DiFranco, The Past Didn't Go Anywhere. On the album, Utah talks a lot about issues of power and privilege, and about how we think about time and history. I was reminded of this album, because I think it's tempting to assert that we are living in a "post-multicultural" world in which books should be judged by their literary merit. But that assertion ignores the impact of hundreds of years of deeply embedded racism and presupposes that everyone has the same access to the structures of power.
Make no mistake about it, publishing houses and awards committees are part of the power structure. Both are still dominated by white people. Publishing is like a playground for the still-mostly-white liberal arts colleges and most librarians are white women. People tend to gravitate toward literature that speaks to them, which means that no matter how open-minded any given individual might be, as a group the literary world tends to favor authors that speak to a white, upper-middle class, female audience.
On one hand, I am drawn to Aronson's passionate defense of his position: so-called "multicultural literature" should be integrated into mainstream literature. It should not be relegated to a "separate but equal" shelf, hauled out during February and ignored the rest of the year. It should not be treated as if it is somehow different from "real" (aka, white) literature.
But I also agree with Pinkney's objections to Aronson's initial essay: the past didn't go anywhere. Hundreds of years of oppression and disenfranchisement does not simply flutter away in the face of how things should be. Awards for authors and illustrators of color serve the same function for "multicultural" literature as the old family resorts in the Poconos served for Jews: they provide an alternative option for a group that has been systematically denied entrance to white, mainstream establishments.
Reading Aronson's rebuttal to Pinkney, I was interested by how his opinion changed in the aftermath of 9/11. I was also impressed by his willingness to be transparent about the effect of 9/11 on his thinking. In particular, I think Aronson's emphasis on pragmatism makes a lot of sense. Perhaps race/ethnicity-based awards are necessary to correct past injustices, but we cannot use such awards an excuse to avoid addressing the ongoing corrosive impact of the past.
As a teacher, I plan to seek out a diverse variety of excellent literature for my students. I probably will rely on awards like the Coretta Scott King, the Belpre, and the Asian American awards to help me identify the best books to share with my class. However, I hope that as the years go by I will be able to rely less on those awards and find a wider variety of authors represented in mainstream awards like the Printz.
I am encouraged when I see authors like Paulo Bacigalupi and Gene Luen Yang being honored by the Printz committee. I think the more we integrate a variety of viewpoints into YA literature, the more we will break down the idea that some literature is multicultural (aka, marginalized) and some is mainstream (aka, real). The past doesn't disappear, but that doesn't mean we have to continue repeating the same mistakes. If we can encourage young people to distinguish texts based on their literary merit rather than the author's (or characters') skin color or national origin then we will be one step closer to Aronson's vision of a world in which multicultural awards are unnecessary.
Post-multicultural? No, we're not there yet, Blakely. But with teachers like you who care so deeply and work so tirelessly to inspire your students with literature that represents a rich diversity of human experience -- we'll get there!
ReplyDeleteWhat do you think of the proposal to keep it as an award for African-American literature, but remove the ethnicity requirement of the author? In other words of keeping the award for literature about a multi-cultural experience, but to allow authors of an race or ethnicity to be eligible for the award?
ReplyDelete@WilkieBeauregard-
ReplyDeleteI'm torn, because I'm not sure what the purpose of the awards are. If the goal is to encourage the creation and consumption of more quality fiction about people of color and/or marginalized groups then it shouldn't matter who the author is, right? But if, on the other hand, the goal is to create a space for authors of color who would otherwise be ignored by the mainstream...then honoring white authors misses the point.
This is one of the central problems Aronson's essay exposes: when we separate literature based on race/ethnicity (of the author or of the subject matter) we create artificial - and ultimately untenable - barriers separating one "strand" of literature from another.
There was a time when white authors simply didn't write about non-white characters (except for rare, and often racist, exceptions). The fact that we even have to wonder whether to honor white authors writing about people of color is a step in the right direction. It's also a sign (in my opinion - and also, I believe, in Aronson's opinion) that awards committees ought to revisit their core missions and determine how their awards can best respond to the literature of today in order to best encourage excellence in literature tomorrow.
I love Will's idea of having such awards be given to books that deal with/are about certain ethnic/racial groups but that don't place any racial/ethnic requirements on the author.
ReplyDeleteAs for Blakely's response, I really don't think that the purpose of such awards should be to "create a space for authors of color." It should be about work of high literary value that teaches the reader more about a specific ethnic or racial group.
Just because the writer of the Coretta Scott King award isn't black doesn't mean he or she has to be white either. The book could be written from the perspective of another minority. Also, keep in mind that some white people are minorities (I'm LDS...trust me, we're a minority) and have had similar experiences that could help them to understand the plight of African Americans and to write well about that topic.
I still recognize that I'm being overly idealistic and just want us to live in a perfect color blind world :P And, as much as I don't want to admit in, this statement of Blakely's rings true:
"People tend to gravitate toward literature that speaks to them, which means that no matter how open-minded any given individual might be, as a group the literary world tends to favor authors that speak to a white, upper-middle class, female audience."
I was mad at first when I read it; I didn't want it to be true, but she's right. I guess that's the thing we have to change...somehow.
Susie-
ReplyDeleteWill's suggestion to allow any author of any race/ethnicity to win awards like the CSK is actually one of the arguments set forth by Aronson. It's also one of the things that drew fire from his critics. As Pinkney's essay explained, the goal is not only to create a more diverse body of literature, but also to support the development of a more diverse community of authors and illustrators.
I believe there is an argument to be made that literature about any given group of people written by someone who is not a member of that group is substantively different from literature written by and about members of the group.
For instance, your argument that being LDS enables you to understand what it is to be a minority is true...to a point. Being LDS does not enable you to understand being a person of color, anymore than being Jewish enables me to understand being LDS. Yes, there are similarities. But we each have our own story, and those stories are not identical.
Saying that we need more fiction written about underrepresented groups, while also denying the need to to foster writers who identify as members of those groups doesn't feel right to me. I don't think it feels right to people like Pinkney, either. I understand how tempting it is to say that all that matters is finding the highest quality fiction, but I also understand what a slap in the face that must be to authors of color who are essentially being told, "Don't worry about telling your own story. We can do it better than you. Look! Here is your story. We wrote it for you, and gave ourselves an award for it! Are you satisfied now?"
Even though I know that is not your intention (or Aronson's) I don't think we can ignore the very real issues of power, privilege, and access to mainstream institutions that permeate every level of this discussion.