It’s that time again, and Ali over at Worducopia has come up with a lot of different options for the latest Diversity Roll Call. This one caught my eye: “For authors: talk about gender in your writing–For example, what’s your experience been with crossing over to the other side? Do you shy away from it? What do you think of the suggestion of switching a protagonist’s gender for the sake of sales/boy appeal/gender equity?”
I’m working on the sequel to A Wish After Midnight right now, and when I first started the novel back in 2003, I knew I wanted it to be told from Judah’s point of view (hence the title, Judah’s Tale). Yet when I began writing chapters, I couldn’t assume Judah’s voice as easily as I could Genna’s; or, rather, I had a nagging doubt about Judah’s authenticity–was he believable as a character? Or was I creating an idealized version of a teenage boy–the boy I wish existed? I’m a feminist, and one of my primary goals is to end violence against women and children. I think one way to do that is to address the rage and underlying pain that so many men direct at others, and most of my writing tries to represent that reality in some way. Am I preaching? I don’t know–maybe. Do I care? Yes and no. I reviewed Tyrell a couple of weeks ago, and I’m still thinking about the book; not its content so much, but rather the author’s intent: why such unabashed realism? Should an artist represent the world that IS, or the world she wants to inhabit? Is there a way to do both? Tyrell, in my mind, needs an intervention but the novel didn’t leave me feeling hopeful that that would happen. And a world populated by boys like Tyrell isn’t a world I’d want to live in. Yet that IS the world I occupy…so what can literature DO about that fact?
I think boys–and girls–need models of alternate masculinities. This is an unfortunate (and problematic) analogy, but if we think of masculinity as a “brand,” then every day young people go out into the world ready to shop, and they choose to consume different “brands” of masculinity. Patriarchal masculinity is the most popular brand right now, and has been for thousands of years…as I pointed out in my review, Tyrell wants to be “the Man,” the patriarch, the protector and provider for those he loves. In return, he wants a girl who will “take care of him” sexually and domestically (braid his hair, cook his food). But does he KNOW there are other options? As I said in my review, he has no male role models in his life who are holding down a steady job. He has dropped out of school, and doesn’t seem to think of college as a way of lifting his family out of poverty. Largely because he needs that to happen NOW, and education is a long-term investment. Tyrell loves his seven-year old brother, but won’t hold his hand because he wants Troy to be “tough”–the most important survival skill for a young black male: don’t be “a punk.” All of this is REAL, but it still makes me cringe. I want my books to offer an alternative to that kind of masculinity, because if you don’t represent a different option, boys (and girls) won’t know it exists. And it’s hard to perform an identity you don’t know about. You can’t buy a brand that’s not on the rack.
I’ve been having an ongoing conversation lately about just what “ghetto” means. Is it a place? A mentality? This is a conversation I wrote into AWAM, but when I reread those parts of the book, I’m somewhat troubled by what I left unsaid. Today, in 2009, I prefer to talk about “the ‘hood” when referring to black urban communities. For me, the ‘hood is a hybrid, fluid space, whereas “the ghetto” seems fixed–both in terms of imagination, and actual boundaries. If the ghetto is a place, what are its borders? My sister visited me in Brooklyn once and declared, “You live in the straight-up-ghetto!” And I was pissed, of course, b/c I knew my building wasn’t great but felt she was wrong to characterize my entire neighborhood as a ghetto. After all, I lived half a block from the Brooklyn Botanic Garden; Medgar Evers College and the Brooklyn Museum were a couple of blocks away. The ghetto, in my mind, was a place of physical and social degradation–empty lots, burned-out buildings, people only looking out for themselves. I lived in a community where most people got up every day and went to work; they did the best to love and protect their kids, and to look out for one another. Yes, there were drug dealers working out of our building, but they weren’t absolute villains; if it was late at night, the guys had their key ready to let you in, they never harassed me, and their “boss” once told me her daughter aspired to become a lawyer one day. It was not a perfect situation, but it was still a functional community. So what do we do about dysfunctional masculinity? Some would say Tyrell, and the thousands of actual boys like him, are simply products of their environment. My economist friend says these boys aren’t to blame because they don’t know anything other than what’s on their block; their world is limited and they’re doing the best they can. That doesn’t work for me. I think part of the problem is due to a failure of imagination…and that’s where ART comes in. Simply creating an alternate representation of masculinity isn’t going to end patriarchy. But it’s a start. Boys need to know it’s ok to express vulnerability and tenderness and fear…and they need to know they can find acceptance and support for being truly authentic, for being themselves and not acting like a tough guy all the time. A few readers have already declared their dislike of Judah, but that’s ok. That leaves me room to let him evolve in a realistic (yet optimistic) way; Rastafarianism is a patriarchal religion, so to be a different kind of man, Judah will have to go against the teachings of his faith…but sometimes that’s what it takes to be free.
Hi. I like how you’re processing the various masculinities (un)available to urban men. Yes, they really don’t have the options out there to “put on” except for some of the more hypertrophied versions of patriarchy. I might quibble with you that they do have access to other images of masculinity: the devoted father, the consumate athlete, the studious sage, the metrosexual male, the profeminist advocate, etc. But your point stands, since the problem with these is that they’re just images in the end. Picked up in fleeting glances from the streets and the silver screen, they aren’t full, viable lifestyles into which boys can sink themselves. A real conversion into a different type of manhood takes a long time, years even, to transfer, as by osmosis.
Yes–and maybe it requires a certain kind of actual, physical mobility, too…my economist friend and I also quibble b/c when I point out all the various masculinities boys can see on TV, he counters with, “But they can’t BE a person they just SEE.” Of course they can, I reply, but then I think about the ways boys/men (and sometimes women) terrorize boys who dare to try something different…you might not be able to be a different kind of man in your current neighborhood; the cost may be too high. And mobility has a price, too…I thought writing about this might help, but things aren’t looking up right now! Thanks for your response, though.
Those are such interesting questions, especially how able a female is to *construct* a male, and vice versa. I read about what some guy is doing and I’m constantly asking my husband, “do guys *really* think like this?” They’re such a mystery to me! Importantly, *are* they as susceptible to “good” role models? Because isn’t part of “success” in today’s male culture qualities we (women) would not want men to emulate? And how much is driven by hormones – i.e., Darwinian-driven hormones? Sure, Nate McCall can go around now and counsel getting off the street corners and being a responsible toward women, but is that because he is older now and can control those impulses? (And I don’t mean to disrespect him because he is doing a great thing devoting himself to helping get boys off the street, but have you ever seen a younger boy convert like that?) So much we don’t know! When I read your review of Tyrell I was stumped – would those who need to see another way even read this book? What would it teach to boys who aren’t like this but read it? Is it true what my sister (the D.C. cop) says, who claims these young boys are “beyond” hope? Or what if we got them as young middle school age boys into a program like KIPP – school from 7 to 3, 2 hours homework, and school every other Saturday, with kids and parent(s) signing a contract to comply? Does Kipp only apply to “saveable” kids anyway? Wish we knew the answers to all of these questions! Your posts are always so thought-provoking, but sometimes the answers seem to elusive to respond!
It *is* frustrating and challenging, but I’m always encouraged that folks are at least willing to grapple with these tough issues. I’m totally opposed to the idea that boys/men are “wired” to be aggressive and/or violent; I *must* believe that it’s socialization b/c otherwise, there wouldn’t be much point getting up every day. Not ALL men rape, batter, or terrorize others–THAT is all the proof I need, b/c THAT means it’s not the wiring that’s somehow to blame, and I wish there were more books and films about the boys who DO go to college and DON’T wind up in jail…Tyrell’s story deserves to be told, but so do all the other stories that we don’t get to hear. I think Geoff Canada has the right idea with the Harlem Children’s Zone: you’ve got to have strategies to transform entire communities–classes for parents, codes of conduct for kids, teachers, and parents, free healthcare, free meals, etc. B/c even a program that runs from 7-3 can’t counter the influence of what’s going on in a child’s home or on their block. And I think no one’s beyond hope–again, a kind of necessary belief, b/c I simply can’t accept that women will be under siege forever. Boys wouldn’t need to be “saved” if they were adequately being *served*…and so that’s where I’d like us to put more resources–into services for all youth, their parents, and other members of their community.
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I haven’t read Tyrell, so I can’t speak to that, but the basic rule of character development is that there must be growth, right? So if we start with a certain type of Tyrell and stuff happens to him and then the story ends with Tyrell unchanged, what’s the point? Maybe it’s “real,” but it’s not literature. Or is the character growth just in a completely different sphere of his life? Your post makes me want to read the book to find out for myself.
As for Judah, the same (or opposite, I guess) holds true. If he starts out as Zetta’s ideal teenaged boy on page one, there’s no place for him to grow to. He doesn’t have to start as a Tyrell, of course. But if you start with him striving to fit in, then struggling as he comes up against aspects of his culture that aren’t working for him, and then evolving to become his own person either within or outside of that culture? In my opinion, that’s a journey both boys and girls will want to read.
Thanks, Ali–that makes a lot of sense. If you’re going to read Tyrell–brace yourself! It did read more like a sociological study than a novel at times…
Two things came to mind when I read this post, and your review of Tyrell: one is Jackson Katz’s documentary, Tough Guise. I’ve shown it a number of time in classes, and students are often completely convinced by his presentation of the oppressive construction of masculinity. One of the things he says, though, at the end, is that we need better stories. I agree–what we are able to imagine in literature, and in popular culture, can have an impact. But what we also need, it seems to me, is better relationships. So many of the boys I’ve worked with in after-school programs simply want a man in their life to pay attention to them, and if that happens to be the drug dealer down the street, then that’s who they’re going to try to win approval from.
Which brings me to the second thing this makes me think of, and that’s The Wire: there isn’t much hope to be had in David Simon’s depiction of all the layers of oppressive masculinity available to urban youth in Baltimore, but one character manages to escape precisely because he develops a relationship with one of the older male police officers. It’s a tiny little storyline, but it seems like an important one.
Of course, as a woman, there’s little I can personally do in the way of offering positive male role models to the boys in my program, except to encourage men I know to get involved, to offer themselves. But stories have to help too. Thanks for continuing to make me think about this, Zetta 🙂
Hey, Jennifer–I didn’t know Katz had his own film; I liked what he had to say in Byron Hurt’s Beyond Beats & Rhymes, though, so will check it out. I have so far managed to avoid watching The Wire, despite the numerous times students cite it in class and/or bring clips in for us to discuss. It’s wrong of me, but in a way I feel like I know that story already. I know how it ends, and how it begins…but maybe one day I’ll sit down and give it a try. I think our activism is our example (how we treat the men in our lives), our teaching, and yes–the better future we can imagine.
Tough Guise is a great film, I second the recommendation, especially for parents of boys (both the fictional ones like Judah and the real-life ones who are constantly demanding snacks.)
Was it bell hooks who said art is more than to tell it like it is, it is to imagine what can be?
Zetta, I prefer reading books that impress me in much the same way you describe how you write and why.
When I began reading YA (I did not read much as a YA. We didn’t have the selection and if we did, I didn’t know where to find it), I approached it with the same expectations and standards I approached literature. And my lens was adult- oriented. What I’ve learned or had to remember is that children and young people process information differently. I had to adjust my lens. I am not saying I lowered my standards or expectations. What I did was try to think how would I feel if I were a young person reading this?
My daughter and niece are only two years apart. But when I ask their opinion on books they’ve both read around the same time, their responses are very different and it’s the where they are in their maturation that I believe significantly accounts for the difference. When I ask my daughter about books we’ve read, we almost always focus on different aspects and have different reactions even though we both like the book. Again, I am convinced that our differences in experiences and age weighs more than I understood when I began reading YA a few years ago.
What does this have to do with boys and Tyrell? I wonder how does a writer accomplish all that concerns you and do so in a way that young people are positively influenced by what they are reading?
I have been having an ongoing debate with my guy about do we need YA lit. He thinks a mature reader doesn’t need a separate genre. I think we do and that’s a topic by itself. I wonder does a young reader think beyond the character they’re presented with and question if that’s who they are and if what they see is all there is.
I’m rambling as usual. Let me read this a few more times. You’ve covered a lot and you have me revisiting old questions and some new ones.
Fantastic write. For me, there is nothing better than a write that makes me think.
Zetta,
A friend of mine who coaches youth football said about the same as your friend. He said the biggest obstacle for a lot of boys he works with is a lack of information. And imagination? That has to be fed. Many of our children are literally preoccupied with eating and staying out of harm’s way. What daydreaming? What reading?
The overwhelming negative imaging only compounds an acceptance of limitation and perpetuates a focus on survival. I think Tyrell accomplishes plenty even with its shortcomings: it provides identification and with non-readers, the first step is cracking any book. It really is that basic. There is no getting to alternatives if you can’t get them to first to look and to look they need immediate, literal identification.
I mostly agree–if a reluctant reader picks up a book b/c the guy on the cover “looks like” him, and he starts to read and realizes he has a lot in common with the main character, that’s great. But that’s also the moment for the author to pull a fast one and have a familiar character do something UNfamiliar…otherwise the expectation that’s set in the mind of that reluctant reader is, “My man better come out on top–with the cash & the girl!” Like Ali said–there’s no growth or evolution, only a mirror. So Tyrell doesn’t glamorize hustling, but it doesn’t critique it, either. And no matter what your reading level, you’re going to extract meaning from what you read. What’s Tyrell’s “message” to reluctant male readers?
Ok first of all I’m not a fan of Judah but I love Paul!! Is he coming back? I’m so excited for the sequel!! I did like the spotlight on Rastafarian culture, that was interesting. Your review should be up on tuesday!
I agreed with most of what you said abou guys in today’s society and Tyrell. I think girls and guys do need alternate masculiniteis, to know that not all guys are worried about being ‘hard’ or tough, some are sensitive or caring. Tyrell drove me crazy because he didn’t always see why it was so important for him to take care of Troy since no on else could. This was an awesome post and give me lots to think about!
Hey, Miss A–can’t wait to read your review! If Paul comes back, he’ll likely be maimed, so prepare yourself…
I just gave Tyrell to two teens I used to mentor; I also gave them your blog address, and am hoping they’ll become followers and possibly start a blog themselves…
That was really sad–watching Tyrell turn off his affection for Troy in order to toughen him up–it came from a good intention, but was so twisted…and you had to wonder who Tyrell might have been if he’d been shown more tenderness and affection when HE was a boy…
Zetta,
So if the writer the doesn’t pull a fast one, are you arguing the book is a failure or that there is a shortcoming in the work?
What I’m trying to say, is that I learned that there may be value in something even if it falls short.
I don’t personally like street lit or urban fiction as a general rule. I loathe Twilight. But there are teachers who will tell you Meyers was the gateway to continued reading for kids who prior to reading that novel were completely disinterested in books.
Not at all–every book has some value, and that value can range from totally insignificant to *very* significant depending on how it’s used and discussed. I think Tyrell absolutely has value, is by no means a failure, and could be the basis of a highly productive conversation around gender, race, and class in any classroom. I do, however, think that’s work a teacher or facilitator will have to do b/c the author didn’t write an obvious critique (or even a moral dilemma) into the narrative. But it definitely still has value! I haven’t read any of the Twilight books, but they didn’t get a great write-up in Ms. Magazine…if reading Twilight made you read *more* Twilight books or books about vampires generally, ok–not great, but ok. I’m not convinced that just having kids read should be a goal in and of itself; what matters most to me isn’t even *what* they read, but HOW they’re reading certain stories and what meaning they’re extracting from them. We’d never say, “It’s ok for teens to watch explicitly violent movies because it might lead them to more substantive foreign or independent films.” It’s not the practice of reading itself–or listening to music or watching videos; it’s whether or not kids have the critical skills to interpret the messages embedded in those songs and books and videos. I’m not trying to ban videos on BET or stop kids from watching them; I’d like to ensure they have a critical lens through which to view those videos so the content doesn’t end up mis-shaping their minds…
I love this analogy: We’d never say, “It’s ok for teens to watch explicitly violent movies because it might lead them to more substantive foreign or independent films.” So true! I do think there’s value in freeing people from the “I don’t read for pleasure” box they’ve shut themselves inside, though. Especially teens and preteens, who are in the process of defining themselves.
“but HOW they’re reading certain stories and what meaning they’re extracting from them.”
Zetta,
We don’t have these kind of conversations enough in the classrooms. Heck, we aren’t having this discussions enough on book blogs.
I was surprised my first year with my group to learn how unaccustomed the girls were to expressing what they got out of a read, what did they think it meant, what did they think the author’s intent was. Most said, they were simply asked questions that demonstrated they read the book. There was very little critical thinking involved.
I’ve heard from teachers in suburban white districts say their students even when their reading and comprehension skills are there, the kids are less engaged.
That’s one of the reasons why I love coming here. I can ask the questions and have the conversations I rarely have the opportunity to participate in otherwise.
Absolutely–and I have to check myself, too, b/c I’m lazy and don’t always want to include a study guide at the back of my books…even though I *know* teachers don’t always have time to develop activities and discussions for every book they teach. I’m sending you my latest book of plays for teens–I suspect drama might be the way to get kids talking and thinking critically about actions and words…they LOVE drama already, they love acting out roles, and then they can sit down and write a script of their own, which is much easier than writing a short story or novel…but I did NOT include a study guide, and think I better slow down, go back, and make one for each play. It’s too much to expect teachers to develop lessons and facilitate discussion and track kids’ progress. I didn’t know how to read a book critically until I was taught–and I didn’t learn that black feminist, post-colonial perspective until graduate school. So we can’t expect it to be automatic–it must be taught…