Earlier this week, we used the Twitter Moments function over on our Twitter page to compile all our previous tweets (plus some new ones; we've been having a lot of conversation on Twitter this week!) and Twitter threads related to Caribbean stereotypes in children's literature into a single Twitter Story for easy reference. However, something must be wrong with Twitter's website because tweets kept disappearing from the Twitter Story, so we've moved the conversation here.
Below are things we've tweeted related to clichéd representations (which sometimes amounts to negative stereotypes) of the Caribbean and its people in children's books. Feel free to join the conversation over on Twitter!
*There are lots of tweets embedded on this page, so the page may take some seconds to load. Please be patient!
Stereotypes in #kidlit #1: All afro-Caribbean women are subservient domestics who wear head wraps & gold hoop earrings #AuntJemimaStereotype pic.twitter.com/wbtk090RC2— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Illustrators: If you feel you MUST draw your female Caribbean character with a headwrap & hoop earring, you've entered stereotype territory. https://t.co/mPPx6aNk6y— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
I'll admit, I am guilty of this. But what do you do when you grew up seeing your mother wearing head wraps all the time? & with great pride?— Mosskat (@Mosskat) May 29, 2017
Stereotypes in #kidlit #2: The Caribbean= unpopulated Garden of Eden where you live in a 1-room wooden house. No such thing as a city/suburb pic.twitter.com/Vxs9Nl3RYI— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Extra stereotypical if the 1-room house is by the sea or there's some kind of palm tree in the illustration. #Caribbean #stereotypes #kidlit— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
For some Caribbean ppl., this is their reality. One bedroom in the "country. " Some never go to the city. How then do u tell ur story?— Sandra N (@TalkPatois) May 29, 2017
"The problem w/ stereotypes is not that they are untrue but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story." -C Adichie https://t.co/hCywjqJNIT— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
This is one of the reasons I always appreciated Andrew Salkey's Kingston-based novels.— Karen Sands-O'Connor (@ksandsoconnor) May 29, 2017
Salkey gave us nuanced stories about Jamaican children in urban settings. His landmark work is greatly underappreciated and under-examined. https://t.co/gnwbrY49Jg— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
That story's been told. A lot. It's OK to talk about the lifestyles of the majority now, I believe.— RSA Garcia (@RSAGarcia) May 30, 2017
I wouldn't say *the majority*, that'd be classist. But yes, the point is (as Chimamanda Adichie would say), a "single story" is dangerous. https://t.co/ua3deMwptp— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
How come you never see this Jamaica in #kidlit? Not Caribbean enough? Well it's an #ActualCaribbeanNeighbourhood in Richmond, Jamaica. pic.twitter.com/ciiiZBuriv— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Thousands live in HDC housing developments in Trinidad and Tobago. No palm trees👀 Won't see this T&T in kidlit #ActualCaribbeanNeighbourhood pic.twitter.com/8gL8Fqi1nf— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Stereotypes in #kidlit #3: Afro-Caribbean women wear traditional/territorial dress (Quadrille, Karabela, Jip, Jupe, Madras) in everyday life pic.twitter.com/5GKOZNtofE— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
They all have on the traditional quadrille dress. Either they're all Shouter Baptists or they're about to perform at a folk concert. Smh https://t.co/J1GRAa14l7— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
What book is the 4th photo?— Wadadlian Nutmegger (@WadNut) May 29, 2017
It's from KALENDA VOYAGE MUSICAL DANS LE MONDE CREOLE.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Thanks— Wadadlian Nutmegger (@WadNut) May 29, 2017
(Hint: Only the last illustration, from KALENDA VOYAGE MUSICAL DANS LE MONDE CREOLE, represents an actual quadrille dancer.)— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
Even female cats in the Caribbean wear traditional quadrille dresses as they go about their daily business 😂 #Caribbean #stereotypes #kidlit pic.twitter.com/moErqdB1cf— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 29, 2017
This is hilarious!— Rebel Women Lit (@RebelWomenLit) May 30, 2017
just one bit of a whole regime of sexist, elitist & racist language/images/frames used to talk about women and girls— gelede (@gelede) May 29, 2017
Where exactly is this conversation coming from? (I'm assuming it's meant to be a conversation) I'm unsure how to contribute— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
So, I browsed through the channel and now I understand the context. The Caribbean landscape is changing but for a younger generation— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
The people who are writing now, came from a generation who still dressed like that and lived in one room shanty's by the sea.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
You cannot ask a writer to write what he/she doesn't know about. There will come a time when the babies in these HDC houses will grow— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
And then you will see Caribbean books filled with their reality. Let's hope these children still know their culture and their history— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Even when not reflected in illustrations. I will always tie my hair, as will my niece because she knows it protects her hair from the sun.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
A good example of why people still do things that seem stereotypical because under the harsh Caribbean sun it makes sense.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Hence why I am confused that this is a stereotype. They aren't just a picture frame sea prop. I live in the hills, palms trees are here— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Responding to thread. Thanks for engaging @MahaliaGJ. Once again, no one is saying that the 1-room house by the sea & head wrap isn't valid. https://t.co/p6af18YH2n— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
The fact that Caribbean ppl find it so difficult/disorienting to go beyond palm trees, headwraps & 1-room houses by the sea proves my point— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
To say today's writers "came from a generation who still dressed like that & lived in one-room shantys by the sea" is a gross generalization— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
I've been working in kidlit for 7 years. I know lots of Caribbean kidlit writers. Most (not all) come from relatively privileged backgrounds— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Most traditionally published Anglophone Caribbean #kidlit authors are based in the diaspora, i.e., authors living in North America & Europe.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
So no, they don't live in a 1-room seaside shanty. I'm familiar w/ these authors early lives. Most didn't live in said shanty pre-migration.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
So the idea that these writers were only writing what they know is specious.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Of course there are Caribbean kidlit authors who come from severely disadvantaged backgrounds. Is that the only kind of Caribbean writer? No— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
I would question why children's publishers would only want to publish stories of Caribbean struggle & poverty over other types of stories.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
To unpack the stereotypes one needs to understand how traditional #kidlit publishing works.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Fact is, #kidlit authors rarely have control over who illustrates their book. That's the way it works. The publisher chooses the illustrator— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
The illustrations posted before need context. They were done by non-Caribbean illustrators. They're depictions of us by cultural outsiders.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
So the illustrators represent the way ppl outside the Caribbean view us. It's a 1-dimensional view that flattens a complex & varied reality— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
if this was the point you were driving at, which is a very valid point, you have a strange way of getting to it. 😄 Too much fluff.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
You should have indicated from the beginning who you were referring to. Not the authors but the illustrators who depict their characters...— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
...in a stereotypical way because they don't have a clear representation of what Caribbean life is like, whether town-house or town-shanty— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
This is a #kidlit publishing issue that each author has to work on changing starting with their own work. And illustration is an extension..— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
...of my story. If it doesn't fit my story, I don't want it. That's why I have to assume if the illustrations are there, it's what...— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
...the author wanted. Do they really have no say, or are they also not aware that these may not represent the people they are writing about?— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
If you are saying these authors are primarily from NA and Europe, how do we know they are fully aware either to say, 'this is not right'— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Yes, sad but true. It's a strange system. Authors often don't even see the illustrations until the final proofs. https://t.co/LP6BLp9cpd— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
As a Caribbean #kidlit writer then, you see the final proofs & don't like something in the illustrations. What do you do? You can speak up.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Sometimes the publisher will b able 2 make changes to the illustrations but sometimes there's nothing the writer can do. What's done is done— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Ramin Ganeshram (Trinidad/US), author of A BIRTHDAY CAKE FOR GEORGE WASHINGTON, had issues w/ the illustrations but couldnt get them changed— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
The illustrations were controversial. The book was pulled from the market. Ganeshram took the heat for something she had little control over— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Just one of the many (& often shared behind closed doors) horror stories that come w/ having little control over how one's bk is illustrated— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Because illustrations are a big deal. They are not side props. They reflect your story before anyone even opens or reads the book.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Also want to address @MahaliaGJ's point that "You cannot ask a writer to write what he/she doesn't know about." I very much beg to differ.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
"“Write what you know” is one of the best and most misunderstood pieces of advice, ever." - Nathan Englander— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
"It paralyzes aspiring authors into thinking that authenticity in fiction means thinly veiled autobiography." - Nathan Englander— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Hundreds of the world's best writers have basically said, in some form or another, what Englander said. i.e., use your imagination.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
I was not parroting a random quote when I made that statement. I was referring to the natural inclination of writers to write from...— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
...a place of familiarity, to depict characters who they feel they know. Which all writers do, regardless of genre.— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Well, the reason #ownvoices is a thing is becuz white (non-Caribbean) writers are allowed the freedom to write outside their own experiences https://t.co/yCX6jSWlaF— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Statistically, more #kidlit w/ non-white characters is being published by North American publishers but the authors are still mostly white— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
And the need for #ownvoices clearly applies to #kidlit illustration too. Maybe the hashtag #insiderillustrator should be a thing— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Becuz the white (non-Caribbean) illustrators depicting us in #kidlit aren't constrained by "a natural inclination to (draw) what they know".— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Note that the non-Caribbean (mostly white) illustrators have no problem using their imaginations to imagine US however they wish.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
So Caribbean writers should be free to do the same. To use our imaginations to imagine us however we wish even if it's not the literal truth— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Not what I meant but I agree with this! 👍— Nicketa Gomes (@MahaliaGJ) May 30, 2017
Thanks for engaging @MahaliaGJ. Good to back-and-forth with you. You have me thinking. Glad you spoke up, wish more would!— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) May 30, 2017
Lovely thread, but please note that this author also engaged in namecalling of the book's critics in national & international media. I am from the culture being caricatured -- I'm a Black American descendant of ancestors enslaved in colonial Virginia. https://t.co/vWD6u4IEcA— Ebony Elizabeth (@Ebonyteach) January 22, 2018
Yes, very true. While publishers/illustrators sometimes put authors in tough positions, Ganeshram wasn't as irreproachable as my tweet might lead those who don't know the entire story to believe. She DID have control over how she handled the backlash, but she stumbled there. https://t.co/FKvksONkSD— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
She also chose to write about history that wasn't hers in a way that was offensive. The illustrations weren't the only problem. https://t.co/vcT38CgtWw— Mikki Kendall (@Karnythia) January 22, 2018
I can see how my tweet, read in isolation, might mislead some to believe the illustrations were the only problem. They weren't. There were also serious issues with Ganeshram's writing/reading of Hercules and slavery. https://t.co/EqdaCcILWF— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Love your work & your excellent 'zine. Just had to correct the record -- we took a lot of heat for that incident. It was seen as WOC/BW getting punished while the other controversial picturebook (by WW) got away without consequences. I definitely hear that, too.— Ebony Elizabeth (@Ebonyteach) January 22, 2018
Thx! Absolutely. There's WAY more context to the A CAKE FOR GEORGE WASHINGTON incident than that 1 tweet. That thread was specifically about problems caused when authors can't control how their bk is illustrated. I too thought CAKE 4 GW & A FINE DESSERT were treated differently. https://t.co/6JLIUrE9J3— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
The racist depiction of Caribbean women in picturebooks from US publishers is distinct from, yet is not unrelated to, our Mammy stereotypes here. In a sense, other peoples' cultures get refracted through a problematic US lens.— Ebony Elizabeth (@Ebonyteach) January 22, 2018
Which is why I was not only surprised to see BIRTHDAY CAKE mentioned in that thread, but I was also hurt and disappointed.— Ebony Elizabeth (@Ebonyteach) January 22, 2018
It hurts me to hear that. The reason I used Ganeshram as an e.g. in the thread was because she was the only *public* e.g. I had of a Caribbean kid lit author whose bk had problematic illustrations she had voiced concerns over. I know other instances but those are classified info. https://t.co/l4ZUR0SXKp— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
I say in the tweet that Ganeshram "took the heat" for A CAKE FOR GEORGE WASHINGTON but as @Ebonyteach rightly points out, WOC in the US kid lit community also took the heat for protesting the book's racist depictions. I didn't mean to sideline those women in my tweet.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Sometimes by centering one issue it can seem like we're downplaying another, but that isn't necessarily the case. We're all focusing on different issues in our Twitter threads, but that doesn't mean our threads aren't connected. The same goes for our communities.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
There's considerable overlap in the issues African-American & black Caribbean communities are dealing with in kid lit & between our histories, & solidarity is important. But it's important to note that Caribbean ppl aren't just black ppl. Caribbean ppl are also white, indian etc— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
I proudly think of myself as a black Caribbean woman (altho I only realized I was black when I moved to the US) & yet my great-grandmom was a fair-skinned Venezuelan mestizo w/ straight, waist-length hair. There are Chinese Caribbean, Syrian Caribbean & Amerindian Caribbean ppl.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
It's very important for Caribbean people to be able to voice our concerns without always being seen as lacking in solidarity with African Americans just because we don't always have the same lens as African American ppl. Having a different lens doesn't mean a lack of solidarity.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
This is so important. I often have to try and explain that as Caribbean writer I am *super honored* to be tagged as afro-futurist in solidarity when my work is received as such, but that my filters are often overlapping Venn diagram and that I would never make that claim myself. https://t.co/ScmOKBYRcz— Tobias S. Buckell (@tobiasbuckell) January 22, 2018
There is often a lot of confusion when reading Caribbean stuff by Americans of many stripes b/c they assume its a variant of African American experience, and while there is common history, there is a variance over last 100 years between Caribbean and African American Experience. https://t.co/ScmOKBYRcz— Tobias S. Buckell (@tobiasbuckell) January 22, 2018
Thanks for backing me up here @tobiasbuckell!— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Totally!— Tobias S. Buckell (@tobiasbuckell) January 22, 2018
Caribbeanness as an identity is invisible in the US & to the US kid lit industry, so it's very difficult for Caribbean ppl to raise kid lit issues without having our issues co-opted as "black issues." Yes our issues are sometimes "black issues" but they're also Caribbean issues.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
We know Caribbeanness as an identity is invisible in the US & to the US children's lit. industry because Caribbean kid lit books are reduced to black history month tokens. African American kid lit books are too, but Caribbean invisibility in the US is a double invisibility.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
We're invisible in the US and to the US kid lit industry both as a presumed black group (reality check: Caribbean people are of all races; the original Caribbean people were actually Amerindians) AND because we're Caribbean.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Black people from Africa living in the US will relate to this experience of double invisibility in the US. This double invisibility is why Caribbean children's books get shelved blindly in the "African American section" of US libraries.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Right on! The same is true regarding blacks from Africa living in the US!— Readers Inspired (@ReadersInspired) January 24, 2018
Thx for confirming @ReadersInspired. I've seen kidlit by Nigerians, Kenyans etc. also blindly shelved in the 'African American Section' of US libraries. US kidlit publishing industry also doesn't recognize African as a distinct identity (not to mention African nation identities). https://t.co/nFbwvItZSD— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 24, 2018
My interest in the often similar experiences of black Caribbeans and black Africans (as opposed to African Americans) in the US and in US publishing was one of the things that led me to interview @GoldenBaobab foundress @missahenkorah in @HornBook: https://t.co/3Hl70dsaAn .— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 24, 2018
Going back to Caribbean stereotypes in kid lit, my thread wasn't only about stereotypes of Afro-Caribbean (black Caribbean) ppl in children's bks. Those are often the stereotypes ppl hone in on, but there are also lots of Amerindian Caribbean stereotypes in kid lit for example.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 22, 2018
Excellent reading. Publishing companies like to keep brown people and their “cultural costumes” in boxes. These images are easier to accept and more marketable. Another form of oppression - - keep the images in the past no matter how fictitious it is. A great great lesson. Thanks— Nancy D. Tolson (@nancy_tolson) January 23, 2018
True, but I also want to address the past vs. present thing. The stereotypes don't necessarily represent the past. Shouter Baptist women in Trinidad still wear quadrille dresses and headwraps for e.g.. My point was actually to say that these are not the ONLY Caribbean realities. https://t.co/hl5TLpSQcl— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
Judging by some of the responses to the thread, some ppl seem to think that by pointing out that post-Westernized Caribbean culture isn't represented in kid lit books nearly as much as pre-Westernized Caribbean culture, I'm forgetting or dismissing Caribbean history/the past.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
That's a false dilemma/black-and-white thinking/either-or reasoning. The both realities exist today side by side in the Caribbean, and everything in between. That's part of what makes the contemporary Caribbean experience so unique.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
But US/European publishers (as opposed to Caribbean publishers) continue to mostly depict only one version of *contemporary* Caribbean reality (i.e., pre-Westernized Caribbean culture) in kid lit. That's what I was pointing out.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
The West (Europe, the US) colonized (& simultaneously Westernized) the Caribbean for centuries & yet now, ironically, it's more comfortable for the West to deny that the Westernized Caribbean exists. This is clear when you read Caribbean kid lit published by US/UK publishers.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
US/UK publishers also don't often depict "the other Caribbean" in kid lit, you know, the Caribbean that's peopled with highly educated, empowered middle class and upper class Barbadians/Jamaicans/Haitians etc. Yes, there's a small elite upper class in "shithole" Haiti. Surprised?— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
We also need to talk about how Caribbean ppl ourselves can get *really* uncomfortable admitting that 1) we've been Westernized, and 2) social class is a big part of our societies. If we're not comfortable writing that into kid lit stories, then we're lying to ourselves/the world.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
The thing is, children's books are a visual medium & Caribbean ppl can struggle with how to navigate visual depictions of ourselves when our kid lit book is being published by a US/UK publisher & therefore the book's audience is American/European. Double consciousness creeps in.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
It's like...if I remove the coconut trees from the illustrations, will my picturebk 1) be "Caribbean enough"? & 1) Will it appeal to US/UK readers' expectations of Caribbeaness? My argument is 1) YES IT WILL, & 2) Who cares? We shouldn't be writing for the American/European gaze.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
To follow up on our recent tweets about stereotypes in Caribbean children's books...this illustration from the Haitian picturebook, TICADO ET LE SECRET DES GRAINES DE l'ESPOIR authentically presents two different sides of Haiti on *the same double page spread.* pic.twitter.com/tffQFzrZVB— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
The child protags live in a rural area & go to Port-au-Prince (Haiti's capital city) every day to sell crafts to tourists. Narratives where characters move from rural to urban parts of their Caribbean island (like ALL THE WAY TO HAVANA) are true-to-life & help debunk stereotypes.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 23, 2018
Another tweet related to our Stereotypes in Caribbean Children's Books thread. This illustration is from L’HERBIER CRÉOLE DE TI JOJO (story set in Guyana). It's an interesting example of an illustration containing a stereotype which simultaneously manages to debunk a stereotype. pic.twitter.com/B4ocslQOlz— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
The character fits the Aunty Jemima stereotype (head wrap, gold hoop earrings, quadrille dress, stout black Caribbean woman etc.) but she's in a Western-style Guyanese home which debunks the "Caribbean people live in wood and grass huts" stereotype.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
I find this illustration to be authentic in the sense that the characters' physical features look like those of black Caribbean people and the room and furniture looks like the kind of room and furniture you could find in a Western-style Caribbean house today.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
Also, although the grandmother *looks* like an Aunty Jemima figure (her clothing, the inevitable gold hoop earring, the physical stoutness), she's not depicted as a subservient domestic. She's reading a book with her grandson.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
I also find the illustration to be counter-stereotypical. It truthfully shows that the past (the old-fashioned quadrille dress) & present (a Western-style home) exist side by side in the Caribbean today. Of course counter-stereotypes can become stereotypes themselves.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
Which is why we need a RANGE of narratives by and about Caribbean people, and about the Caribbean, in children's literature. When the past and the present, stereotypes and counter-stereotypes exist equally in fiction, we get a full, authentic picture of humanity.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
Also note that the illustrator of L’HERBIER CRÉOLE DE TI JOJO is *not* an #ownvoices illustrator. Illustrators who are cultural outsiders *can* produce counter-stereotypical work but #ownvoices content creators have authorial authority & should be able to tell their own stories.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) January 25, 2018
If you're interested in diverse kidlit and #ownvoices representation, be sure to follow this thought-provoking and informative account. https://t.co/iHJ1Ng7EAA— Amanda Coppedge (@amandacoppedge) January 25, 2018
I tweeted before (http://bit.ly/2GAAMmh) about the Aunty Jemima stereotype of Caribbean women in kidlit. Here it is again in the forthcoming picturebk AUNTIE LUCE'S TALKING PAINTINGS. The inevitable head wrap & gold hoop earring. Lovely illustration but still an overused cliché— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 1, 2018
Yes a beautiful illustration but a cliched picture. I wonder how much more captivating it would be if the illustrator did not fall back on cliches
— Readers Inspired (@ReadersInspired) February 2, 2018
Some tweets have gone missing here. We are actively working on restoring them.
As an individual, we always have to make a call on what is more important: intent or interpretation. One we can only claim the other we cannot control.
— Philip Robinson (@phildmusic) February 2, 2018
Well, if you're saying children's illustrators can't control how people perceive an illustration, yes that's true. But illustrators & publishers CAN control how aware they are of stereotypes & whether or not they will continue to reduce an entire group to a single representation— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 2, 2018
This. (Also, those of us from the margins rarely get away with arguments about intent. Mal intent is assumed, often to our peril.) https://t.co/XqaKH05zGC
— Ebony Elizabeth (@Ebonyteach) February 2, 2018
Yes, that's true. Working without that principle will lead to more of the same.
— Philip Robinson (@phildmusic) February 2, 2018
When less than 0.9% of Eng-lang bks for young ppl published by N. American & European publishers per yr feature C'bbean ppl (25 bks a yr avg.) & 3 of those bks have an Aunty Jemima figure, publishers' intentions become less important than their responsibility to avoid stereotypes— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 2, 2018
Even if the illustration in question had nothing to do with racist slave imagery/gold hoop earrings/head wraps (let’s say the stereotype was that all Caribbean ppl are smart overachievers), any reduction of Caribbean women/men/children/places to a homogeneous monolith is harmful.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 2, 2018
To further interrogate the Aunty Jemima stereotype of Afro-Caribbean women in illustrated children’s books, specifically that ever-present head wrap...why are children’s publishers effectively censoring the afro-textured hair of black Caribbean women in children’s illustrations?— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
Because that's what publishers are doing when Afro-C'bbean women are so often illustrated wearing head wraps in kid lit bks. They're censoring Afro-textured hair out of #kidlit illustration. Stop keeping black hair "under wraps" in kid lit illustration. It exists, stop hiding it.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
In colonial times, black women's "exotic" hair attracted white male suitors which white women found threatening. So the Tignon Laws & others like it banned black women from exposing their natural hair & decreed that black women had to wear headwraps to maintain class distinctions pic.twitter.com/4P6UZwAb2b— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
So the policing of black women's hair is old. It's part of the reason why I'm disappointed to see *yet another* Aunty Jemima caricature (of Afro-Caribbean women) depicted w/ the clichéd headwrap in AUNTIE LUCE'S TALKING PAINTINGS. I hope @GroundwoodBooks changes the illustrations.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
We *have* to challenge the insidious bowdlerization of Afro-textured hair in children's illustration. We have to move beyond the blatantly aggressive "I love my hair" bks aimed at black children to the point where it's normal to see Afro-textured hair represented in #kidlit bks.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
And #kidlit illustrators, if you think you *need* to illustrate that Caribbean character in your picturebook wearing a head wrap or else your illustration won't be "Caribbean enough", please refer to this #ExtremelyCaribbeanEnough illustration by @VeloEspinosa from ISLANDBORN. pic.twitter.com/jDFhyydKNR— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) February 5, 2018
Was wondering if @anansesemlitmag would be so kind as to suggest some publishers. Especially those who publish Caribbean flavored books.— ⚜️Reena Nashira⚜️ (@reereethadiva) April 27, 2017
Well we don't like to think of the books as "Caribbean flavored", but check @bluebanyanbooks, Editorial Campanita & @CaribReads for #kidlit https://t.co/1eXRT5bQ00— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 29, 2017
Lol. Yes. The Caribbean (including the books) often gets associated with food and spice. Our books do have flava though. Right?— Nadia L. Hohn (@nadialhohn) April 30, 2017
Well ok I get it, you're saying that Caribbean people/kidlit books have a unique personality, a certain je ne sais quoi. https://t.co/Lb0lezVsQE— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
If "flava" means "a distinctive yet intangible quality felt to be characteristic of a given thing" then perhaps Caribbean kidlit has "flava"— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
But that is debatable and leaning toward stereotype.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It's truer to say that Caribbean children's literature is as varied and hybrid as Caribbean people.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
Actually, it's the wide and varied complexity/hybridity of Caribbean kidlit that is its truly unique quality.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
Perhaps you're also implying that Caribbean people/our books are stylish, vibrant, piquant, colorful etc.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
The problem is that's also a stereotype.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
There are many Caribbean people who aren't vibrant, piquant, stylish, colorful etc.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
There are many Caribbean people who are serious, listless, troubled, dowdy, nondescript etc.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
And by extension, many Caribbean stories do not, in fact, have "flava".— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It's possible that US reviewers who use the term "Caribbean flavoured" are talking about the distinctive yet intangible quality of the books— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
The problem is that most of these US reviewers don't read a lot of Caribbean children's books.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
So their assumptions of "flavour" are based on the handful of Caribbean kidlit books they've read.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
There's a reason why you rarely ever see reviewers writing about an "American flavoured" anything (book/musical/song/movie etc.).— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It's always an "African flavoured" book or an "Indian flavoured" film score, or a "Caribbean flavored" theme park etc.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It can't be that reviewers are preoccupied with the blandness of American society/culture.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
So there has to be another meaning to the idea of "ethnic flavor" they're touting.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
The language of "flavour" is related to the "melting pot" metaphor that pervades American thinking about diversity/multiculturalism.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
If minorities (read: immigrants) are only allowed to add "flavour" to the melting pot of American society then immigrants remain unessential— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
"Flavour" isn't essential in food, its value is mainly as a form of enjoyment, as something which can be, literally & figuratively, consumed— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
Also, adding flavour to food is arbitrary. You can add flavour if ya feel like it. You don't need a justifiable reason for NOT adding flavor— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
You can add however much flavour suits your personal taste at a given moment.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
You can also very easily FORGET to add flavour to food. And if you forget, oh well, life goes on.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
So it's basically saying to immigrants, our world/society was complete before you came along but since you're here, you can be the "flavour"— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It's saying to immigrant/minority authors that if we feel for a little flavour today, we'll read your book.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
But if we're not in the mood for flavour tomorrow, your book will stay unread.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
The Americentric concept of "ethnic flavour" is a nativist position.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
This nativism says "we'll add minority/immigrant perspectives to our view of the world but only if and when we feel like it."— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
...Only as much as suits our whims or tastes at a particular moment.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
So US reviewers/publishers constantly describing Caribbean-authored books as "Caribbean flavoured" reflects the ethnocentrism of US society.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
They're basically saying that American kidlit books are the standard, then, if you want, you can add a sprinkle of "Caribbeanness" to that,— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
Of course one doesn't have to be American to participate in Americentricism.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
When Caribbean people themselves describe books as "Caribbean flavored", they unknowingly participate in double consciousness.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
It's basically saying that 1) the "Caribbeanness" of the book is non-essential, just a little something extra added "for taste".— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
And well, 2) They're actually quite literally saying that the Caribbean is a flavor. SMH.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
And it seems like nitpicking to point out the problem with the term "Caribbean-flavoured" kidlit books, but words matter.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
Choice of words tells us a lot especially when a phrase is repeated sooooo often. *END OF THREAD*.— Anansesem KidlitZine (@anansesemlitmag) April 30, 2017
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