I’m not sure when I stopped caring whether people thought of me as “nice.” I’ve known for a long time that I’m not “sweet,” and I know some people find me intimidating because I’ve learned from so many Black feminists before me that “your silence will not protect you.” Yesterday morning I got back from Sacramento and despite jet lag went out in the evening to celebrate a friend’s 40th birthday. On the train ride home we were acting very silly and laughing hard and loud. I asked her why she doesn’t want to call herself middle-aged as I proudly do, and she replied that unlike me, she hadn’t always been invested in seeming older. I skipped a grade when I was 6 so I did spend much of my early academic life thinking a lot about my age; I knew I could compete academically, but I was afraid of doing socially inappropriate things that might lead people to realize I was younger than my peers. In college age only mattered because I stayed underage longer than my friends, but since I didn’t drink anyway, it wasn’t such a big deal. Somewhere in my thirties I started wishing I looked older; almost all of my friends have very visible grey hair and I’ve got just two white strands that can hardly be seen amidst my copious curls. I don’t like being underestimated and I think if I looked my age, perhaps people would stop referring to me as “a young woman,” which is what people call me right before they dismiss me or express amazement over my abilities. I should be articulate. I should be forthright. I should call out b.s. when I see it. I should speak up when something appears unjust. Why do people expect anything less?
I haven’t read any of Malcolm Gladwell’s books, but I read an interview with him recently where he summed up his latest theory about people who are disruptive in the best possible way. This is the gist of his theory: 1) be completely indifferent to what people say about you (disruptors “are what psychologists call disagreeable—they do not require the approval of their peers in order to do what they think is correct.” 2) develop an active imagination—reimagine the world by reframing the problem in a way no one has framed it before. 3) reframe the problem to remove constraints so that you can act with urgency.
It can be challenging when you’re surrounded by people who don’t share your sense of urgency. Day 1 of Kidlitcon was fabulous because right from the start I found attendees who seemed like potential disruptors. After years of chatting online, I finally got to meet Multiculturalism Rocks! blogger Nathalie Mvondo (on right with librarian/blogger Edith Campbell) and her opening panel was fantastic. Unlike traditional conferences, Kidlitcon had a very open format—presenters often started by asking for audience input and the code of conduct probably wasn’t necessary because almost all the attendees were women, which means conversations were conducted with courtesy and consideration. By Day 2, I noticed more attendees expressing a desire not to be “too negative,” which is unfortunate because sometimes rigor demands that we abandon the (socialized) urge to be pleasant and positive all the time. After the We Need Diverse Books panel, my friend and fellow publishing industry disruptor Laura Atkins and I had to take a walk around the block to blow off some steam. The night before we’d had dinner with Edi, Maya Gonzalez, and her beautiful family; we scarfed down tasty vegetarian food and lingered over apple spice cake drizzled with cider syrup…it felt very indulgent and yet also very necessary. So few people truly embrace change and aren’t afraid to be disruptive. I forget that sometimes because I’ve been a “troublemaker” within my family for decades and most of my friends are outspoken feminists of color. We tend not to wait. We don’t “go slow.” We try to build the reality we see in our dreams. Of course, everyone has to follow her own path and I left Sacramento reminding myself that what’s urgent to me won’t ever be urgent to everyone else. But we did meet new allies and I’m especially encouraged by the 20-somethings at Kidlitcon who seem poised to turn their anger into action. Watch out for the Twinjas’ Diverse Blog Tour and brace yourself for the unfiltered reflections of Sarah Hannah Gómez. And don’t count out we middle-aged mamas who are still plotting revolution offline…
Zetta, it was so good to meet you. I think we are twins, a little bit.
Alright, Hannah. We can be twins in an alternate universe/fantasy kind of way–so long as I retain seniority!
bahahaha as you wish!
Totally understand what you mean, Zetta! My sister and I both see the urgency. While many were wondering how to contribute to the diversity movement, Guin and I had very little to contribute because since Day 1, we’ve only read and promoted books that feature diversity. So how do we add to the conversation without coming off as annoying, lol.
When we started blogging that’s all we ever wanted to do, talk about books not featuring the “default” narrative, some time before the #WNDB movement. And we both really admire your dedication to the cause, because like us, you were talking about this well before the #wndb campaign.
It was insanely surreal meeting a powerful presence like yourself and was so honored to meet you and sit in on a panel with you. We totally have to do something again where I’ll be more prepared, lol!
You were totally prepared for our discussion, Libertad, and we were all impressed to learn about your Diverse Blog Tour initiative. It really is hard to accept that folks move at their own pace and along their own path…but I’m glad we’re on this journey together!
Reblogged this on and commented:
The first posts about the KidLit Conference on Blogging Diversity are up. I hope you check them out and add your voice!
Thanks, Nathalie! You were such a soothing presence at Kidlitcon–thank you for being so gracious AND so persistent in bringing the conversation back to action.
Thanking you again for coming to California all the way from the East Coast, Zetta. I am so glad we finally had a chance to meet. I’ve never seen you afraid of tackling a tough topic, asking out loud what make people uncomfortable, and I especially learned from the way, throughout the years, you’ve been giving a voice to teens otherwise silenced and walled within the injustice they’re up against. I hope you never stop. We’re all learning from you; I, for sure, have been.
You’re touching lives with your books and blog posts.
Keep being a disruptor! Speaking only for myself, I can say that you’ve been a huge influence on me over the years, and I have to think that you have influenced others as well. It was so great to see you at Kidlitcon. I wish we’d had more of a chance to talk. I didn’t realize that you had skipped a grade as well. I skipped the 8th grade and started high school at age 12. I also looked young, so I had to deal with the “child” label for most of high school.
Whoa–I can imagine what that transition must have been like. It was so great to see you, Sheila, and thank you for being so engaged throughout all the panels. A little positivity goes a long way!
Being nice. Being honest. When I read Neal Shusterman’s short story about “slot mongers” and “people of chance” – his new words in this dystopia – for American Indians, I said WTF. I put WTF in my review and sent it out as I usually do. A librarian wrote to me and said that WTF was inappropriate for a review and that she stopped reading my review when she came to WTF.
I’m not nice. And sometimes, I curse. And I stand by that WTF. For goodness sake! WTF!
I curse, too! and the “nice” rule is especially tricky when you toss kids/teens into the mix…so many ways to silence women of color who are trying to speak their truth.
[…] to add: Some of my wonderful co-conference goers and presenters have been wrapping things up, too. Zetta Elliot, for one. Charlotte, for another. More as I find […]
I’m of the opinion (cause I have to be) that those who work with soft voices can also be effective agents for change. It is not in my personality to be loud, direct, or forceful (mostly) but there are other tools, and sometimes if you are perceived as sweet, you can deliver (in a sweet voice) effective zingers to people that who otherwise might have plugged their ears. And if you are usually quiet, then when you really have to yell, the contrast amplifies your voice…And someone who seems nice might be working behind the scenes, involved with lots of things that no one ever sees,
So don’t assume that the quiet people lack conviction! she says, firmly.
Hi, Charlotte! First of all, thank you for reviewing The Magic Mirror on your blog—I very much appreciate that you gave my self-pubbed book a chance. As for the disruptor debate, I think there’s a big difference between being “nice” and being “quiet.” I’m quiet! I’m an introvert and conflict-averse, and I suspect many bloggers share those traits; the internet can be a fairly safe way to engage with the world, despite the occasional troll. And there’s nothing wrong with choosing sweetness as a strategy to create change, but there’s also a need for rigorous critique and a soft voice–which is close to silence sometimes—can’t always be heard in critical moments (I think of MLK here: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends.”) That means that those who are most at risk yet dare to speak out may not know that you’re an ally—and those engaging in problematic behavior may assume they have your tacit approval. I don’t doubt that quiet people have convictions and may act upon them behind the scenes, but silence—or quietness—can operate as consent in certain contexts. I’m mainly critiquing a desire not to be seen as disagreeable, not wanting to rock the boat, going along to get along. Marginalized people need allies who can use their relative privilege to take risks…
True enough! Quiet because of not being a loud person and quiet because of not saying something when you need to speak up are two very different things! And I hope I do speak up. It’s just that I’ll never manage strident, or even loud…although now I have the song “When I grow up I want to be an old woman” going through my head, and maybe some day I will be!
Z, thank you for writing this – there were some things I wished we’d had time to go back to and dig into — I react SLOWLY and tend to do a slow burn rather than be articulate right off the bat as so many seem to be, and I now wish to go back and say, “Hey, wait, what — ?!” about quite a few things. We got off track to my mind, too – clearly voices spoke up to put us back into action, but we got mired. I think breaking into smaller groups and each chewing on a specific piece of the question would have been helpful. But, this is what we have blogs for, and I will just keep track of what I wanted to say, and get it out there on my slow boat.
Meanwhile, don’t be too anxious for those silver hairs – they do NOT play nicely with the other hair, and tend to stand up like Buckwheat’s cowlick. It’s not even cute. (Although I ADORE Laura’s hair. And Leila’s. I aspire to that, or at least to a seriously visible dramatic Rogue-style streak!)
Hey, Tanita. Breaking into small groups is good but also time-consuming; doing a 5-minute wrap up listing specific actions is another possibility, but maybe it was enough for us to find one another this time around. I’m not crazy about academic conference so the informality of Kidlitcon was a welcome change. And I am SO excited b/c I think I’ve got ONE lone white hair right at the center of my hairline! The blond hairs I yank but this one I will wear like a badge of honor. My hair doesn’t know what it means to behave so bring on the crazy grays!
So glad we finally got to meet!