A Book Born 5 Years Ago

 Forty-one years ago on this day, my daughter was born. And five years, 1 month and 21 days ago, my book was conceived.

I’ve been posting about my book on the Tulsa Race Riot (really a massacre, not a riot). I’ve been posting about some criticism/advice I’ve been given, since my book’s main character is young and Black and male, and I’m ancient, white-as-notebook-paper and female. (In case you want to catch up, I wrote this post and then this post.)

My book has not been published yet. An educator-artist is working on the cover, and my publisher (My publisher! My publisher!) is doing a final wade-through on my manuscript. The goal? A print schedule that will allow me to go to Tulsa (with books) for the 100-year anniversary commemoration activities at the end of May, 2021.

When I approached a nationally-known expert on the Tulsa Race Massacre (I’ve spoken to her at several national conventions) to ask her to read my manuscript and write a blurb, when she learned it was not an #OwnVoices story, she respectfully declined… and gave me some suggestions as well as some information.

image by Pixabay

One of the things she said made me stop dead in my tracks. She said, “I struggle with teaching the Tulsa Race Massacre at this point because I've heard from colleagues that Black Tulsans feel both glad that the story is out, but taken aback by the number of projects created about it by white people. As if their pain was material for others.”

There is no way I want to profit in any way on the backs of the massacre’s victims. No way.

In the comments to my posts, there were some great suggestions. Donate some of the book’s proceeds to a charity. Create a college scholarship for a Black Tulsan. That made me think of the Greenwood Cultural Center, an educational center focused on the Tulsa Race Massacre.

As a teacher, I know how tough it is to scrape together money to go on field trips. Perhaps my proceeds could help pay for classroom trips to the Greenwood Cultural Center. Then I considered what an impact various writing opportunities have had on my life. What if the money from my book could pay a young Black Tulsan to write a performance about the Tulsa Race Massacre for the Greenwood Cultural Center? A rapper, a songwriter, a movie maker… What if they received a grant to create something that could be seen on a screen at the center?

This is what I’m leaning toward currently. The other ideas I’m considering came from comments to my post. What other ideas do you folks have?

Sioux Roslawski is the author of a soon-to-be-published middle-grade novel about the Tulsa Race Massacre. If you'd like to read more of her writing, check out her blog.

Read More »

4 comments #OwnVoices, the Greenwood Cultural Center, the Tulsa Race Massacre

Important Decisions About Big Issues Part 2

Imagine you’re Black and gay. Your name is Kosoko Jackson. You write a novel about a Black gay man in Kosovo in the 1990s. And you end up cancelling the publication of your book (a month away), the 55,000 copies already printed go straight to the recycling dumpster… all because you’re criticized for not being qualified to write about that place and era.

It’s a true story. When I read it, I recalled that several years ago, I read about a lesbian writer who was stalked on the internet, to make sure she was indeed a lesbian. In some ways, the #OwnVoices movement has gone too far.

In other ways, it’s not possible to go far enough.

                                                                  image by Pixabay

I grew up in a world of bland, more-white-than-beige books. The Dick and Jane books had no diversity. Carolyn Keene (a man) wrote the Nancy Drew mystery books I inhaled as a pre-teen… and they were full of nothing but white characters. When I was a kid, I cried for Wilbur when he lost his friend Charlotte in E. B. White's classic. When I got to middle and then high school, I read Richard Wright and fell in love with Langston Hughes.

Today, young readers are more fortunate. There is some diversity. But not enough. 

These days, I’m donning my flak jacket in preparation for the grenades that are ultimately going to be lobbed at me. After all, I’ve written a story from the perspective of a young Black man. I’m white, female and in my 60s. I wrote an earlier post about the obstacles I’ve faced when it comes to this manuscript/book. Do I have the right to tell this story?

I say yes, but here is why:

I’ve done lots of research over the span of four years. I’ve pored over articles and books and videos of first-person accounts of the Tulsa Race Riot (Massacre).

I’m fired up. I’m a teacher, and I’m upset that students don’t know about the Tulsa Race Riot (Massacre). I’m appalled that grown-ups are ignorant of it. Passion fueled the first draft of my book, then set fire to it because it was pure crap… and the embers burned for so long, I had to start from scratch and write the story again--the next drafts, better.

I was an educator in a school in Ferguson, Missouri for more than a decade--during the time when Michael Brown was killed. There were protests because of Michael Brown… but no protests over 300 massacred in Tulsa a century ago (the 100-year commemoration will be in May 2021). 

Henry Simmons--my main character--spoke to me. I know it sounds too fantastical to believe, but it’s the only way to explain it. Things happened to Henry, he saw things, he dreamed dreams--and none of them were plotted by me. His life unfurled in front of me as I typed--sometimes my fingers hurrying to keep up. 

My wish is that dozens of Black writers tell the Tulsa story. Picture books. Middle-grade books. YA novels--more novels like Dreamland Burning--because the massace is a story that should be read by every American. As more diverse authors are embraced and celebrated and published, I hope there is room for all writers to tell all stories… as long as they stay true to the characters and as long as the story is burning a hole in the writers.

In the article that told of Kosoko Jackson, Rosenfield ended with, “But there's still time for the industry to course-correct, not by sacrificing its focus on diversity, but by relinquishing its stranglehold on the stories themselves. A colorful and creative future lies in welcoming and supporting authors from all backgrounds — and then letting them use their voices to tell whatever kinds of stories they want.”

Henry’s voice told me the story he wanted to be told… 

Sioux Roslawski is a middle school teacher, and a freelance writer. If everything works out and all the stars align, her book about the Tulsa Race Massacre will be published this spring. If you’d like to read more of Sioux’s writing, check out her blog.

Read More »

10 comments #OwnVoices, Dreamland Burning, Kosoko Jackson, Sioux Roslawski, the Tulsa Race Massacre

Important Decisions About Big Issues

I will begin by apologizing. I’m sorry. It’s not the first apology--when it comes to my soon-to-be book--and I know it won’t be my last. 

I apologize for being white and female and old, and for telling a story from a Black and male and youthful perspective. I’m sorry I am the one telling Henry’s story… or rather, I’m sorry I’m telling Henry’s story and not a male POC author. I wish someone else had told it.

But Henry chose me, not somebody else. 

When talking about this about-to-be-born book, I usually add: I didn’t write Henry Simmons’ story. He came alive when I had over 25,000 words and then scrapped them all and started from scratch. Things happened to Henry and he saw things and he realized things… and I was merely the conduit. I know that sounds like an excuse for this not being an #OwnVoices story. I also know that the above is full of a great deal of “I this” and “I that,” and I don’t mean it to be. 

I mean to be telling the horror and loss and injustice and the loss and the loss and the loss of the Tulsa Race Massacre. 

A little background information: I wrote a manuscript about the Tulsa Race Massacre (sometimes mistakenly called Tulsa Race Riot, but there was no riot). After sending it out to over 120 agents and publishers, I finally got a yes. The manuscript is going to become a book. The 100-year anniversary of the massacre is coming up in May. I plan on being in Tulsa with my book. 

                                                                  image by Pixabay

                                      This is a sculpture in Tulsa. During the massacre, Black people

                                              were often shot and killed despite having surrendered. A.C. Jackson

                                               a local surgeon who was recognized nationally as a gifted surgeon, 

                                             was shot in his front yard even though he said to the small mob, "Here

                               I am, I want to go with you." Jackson was only forty years old when he was murdered.

                            

But do I have the right? Do I have the right to even tell the story? 

I recently contacted a nationally-known and well-respected expert on the Tulsa Race Massacre. She and I are both educators; I’ve met her at national conferences. Would she be willing to read my manuscript and possibly give me a blurb for the book cover? She said she’d love to… and then she asked the million dollar question. Who was telling the story? When I told her it was told from the perspective of a young African American male, there was a reflective gap in time. And then she respectfully said no… and she gave me some suggestions. 

• Rewrite the story from a white person’s point of view--not really possible in this case 
• Wait 10 years until the playing field evens out, until there are more diverse stories told by authors with more diversity--Does my lardy body have 10 more years?
• “Boycott” publishers and refuse to submit work until more Black stories are told by more Black authors 

She also said some Black Tulsans feel saddened when people are making money off of their pain and suffering. That made me stop--as a writer and a human being. 

I’ve made some decisions. I’m going to continue with this on my next post (or two) because it’s too huge to cover in just 500 words. But I’m interested in what you think. Is this a story I can tell? 

And please be honest. Please.

Sioux Roslawski's writing has been published in 15 Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies. She's more than halfway through November (and NaNoWriMo) yet hasn't made as much progress as she'd like, since she's writing surrounded by her middle-school students. If you'd like to read more of Sioux's writing, check out her blog.

 

Read More »

13 comments #OwnVoices, Sioux Roslawski, The Tulsa Race Riot

The Chameleon

I was thinking about what to write for my post this week when I read yesterday’s very powerful post by the always eloquent Angela Mackintosh. It helped me decide how I wanted to use my voice today. I want to admit that I am a privileged white woman who still has a lot of to learn about what it means to be black in the year 2020.

I am a chameleon. My mother is Hispanic but mostly speaks English. This is not really something I thought much about until just a few years ago. When I was in middle school, my family moved from Texas (where there is a large Hispanic population) to the mountains of western North Carolina. I looked a little different, but my classmates thought I was “exotic.” It made me feel special. I don’t ever remember anyone making fun of me or my mother because our skin was a little darker than theirs. Maybe they did, and I just didn’t know it. We didn’t have a lot of black students at our rural school, and to be honest, I never thought much of it. An old classmate of mine shared a podcast episode this week about the Tulsa Race Riots, and mentioned how we had never learned about it in any of civics or history classes in high school. She was right. I never heard the name Emmett Till until I had long graduated from high school, either. There was a whole segment of our United States history that somehow became whitewashed to us.

Because I didn’t learn about systemic racism or any of these less-talked about events in history, I never considered myself racist. In fact, when my grandmother from Louisiana showed up to my high school graduation and asked my mother loudly in the auditorium where all the “people of color” students were, I was shocked. And yes, she used another word for “people of color.”

But life went on for me. I grew older, and ended up in the suburbs of Charlotte, where black residents are in the minority. My kids attend a small charter school where there isn’t a whole lot of diversity, and it’s because of systemic racism. At our school, we only have one bus route so if you are lucky enough to get into the school by lottery, if your parents have to work full-time and can’t take and pick you up from school, you likely can’t attend.

My kids have learned about Emmett Till, the history of lynchings in the United States and how systemic racism works in their current curriculum, so that’s a start. But, I’ll be honest. After seeing the blatant hatred and racism against anyone who isn’t “white” that has continued to divide the country since the last election, I’ve withdrawn into myself. My son doesn’t really want to tell people he is Hispanic because he has friends who have made jokes about the need to “build the wall.” I’m worried someone will point their finger at me in a store because I “don’t look like I’m from around here.”

And I’m not even black. I read a great, eye-opening article by Lori Lakin Hutcherson that explained white privilege. I have it. My kids have it. My husband has it. My husband doesn’t have to put a stuffed animal in the back of our car to show that he is a “family man” and not a “drug dealer” when he gets pulled over by the police in his nice sedan. I don’t have people question that I actually made it through college because of the color of my skin. I’ve never had a teacher point out that I’m the only person of color in a classroom. Yes, all these things happened in the article I mentioned above. I also know there are people in neighboring communities who have called the police because black men were jogging in their neighborhood, or in one case, taking a walk around the block with their children. These black men LIVED in the neighborhood.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m trying to gain the courage to learn more about how I can be a part of the change. Simply saying, “I’m not racist,” is not going to cut it. I need to do more, be more, make sure my children are more. I have to get outside of my comfort zone and know that I will be verbally attacked for standing up for #BlackLivesMatter. It’s a sad state of our country that I have to admit. But I’m willing to educate myself and make those sacrifices. It’s the least I can do, or things are never going to change.

Renee Roberson is an award-winning writer and editor from North Carolina. Learn more at FinishedPages.com.

Read More »

7 comments #OwnVoices, Black Lives Matter, racism in America, Renee Roberson, white privelege

Who Has the Right to Write It?

So, before I begin this post I should explain a bit of the backstory, in case you haven't been subjected to my previous prattling and blathering before this. I am trying to snag an agent/publisher for a manuscript. It's a middle grades historical novel. The main character is Henry, a 12-year-old African American.

I am a white senior citizen female.

My son was a 12-year-old boy (two decades ago). Have I been around lots of students that age, both black and white, during my teaching career? Yes. Have I tried my best to depict Henry in a respectful and nuanced way? Yes.

But as a writer who's white-as-notebook-paper, do I have the right to tell the story of a person of color?

Some editors think I don't... or at least they think I might have difficulty getting my story published, since #OwnVoices is a current trend in publishing. This movement supports a gay character being written by a gay writer, a Hispanic character being written by a Hispanic writer, and so on.

photo by PxHere.com

I actually worried about this when I began this project. I consulted a friend (who's black). I wrote in the author's note (for a manuscript that was in its initial stages--a definite case of putting the cart before the horse) that I felt I had the right to tell the story because of the shame and regret I felt in regards to this part of our country's history. After all, it was white people who did all the horrible things during this event.

Here's the rejection letter--

Dear Sioux:

Thank you for your interest in ____ Agency.

This is a really important concept and you're obviously a talented writer. However, even though this story is grounded in history and deals with important subject matter, the writing feels a little "familiar". Additionally, and this comment has nothing to do with the quality of your writing, you may face some #OwnVoices concerns in relation to this story. While there must be a space for providing different perspectives on terrible chapters of our past, I think the trend at the moment is towards promoting #OwnVoices takes on these kinds of issues. Of course this is a subjective view, and I'm sure others will feel differently, but, for now, I’m going to pass.

I wish you all the best for your continued writing journey. 

Thank you, again, for sharing this with me.


Do I appreciate the time this agent took to write me a personal response? Yes. Yes. Yes. Do I try to keep the phrase "talented writer" closer to my heart than "the writing feels a little 'familiar'"? Most definitely yes. Am I happy with the dilemma I now face?

No.

I now have lots to think about as I slog forward/sideways/backwards in this writing process. I know my life is better because of Jacqueline Woodson (a gay writer of color) and Sherman Alexie (a Native American writer) and Leonard Pitts and Nikki Giovanni and Shay Simmons and Maya Angelou. But my life has also been made richer because of writers like Arthur Golden (a male who is not Japanese), who wrote Memoir of a Geisha. He did loads of research and interviewing, and became a geisha via his writing.

In my research on #OwnVoices, I came upon this from a Filipino rapper:

Ego,

It wants to fight me,
Ruby, don't take it lightly,
Just focus on plottin’ nightly,
'Cause we know it’s never likely,
If I don’t,
Then who will write me?

                                                  -Ruby Ibarra, “The Other Side, Welcome”

The last two lines spoke to me, because there are no books--for children--about this event, except a YA novel. I'm saddened because perhaps if I don't write this story, who will?

I'm going to end with a link to a thoughtful discussion that Lisa Bodenheim sent me. Janet Reid, a literary agent, had some words that gave me a glimmer of hope: 

"But if the question is whether I want the stories told or not, I vote for having them told. And I'd vote for having people tell their own stories, but sometimes that's not an option... I think the only thing to do is keep querying. You don't need every agent to say yes; you don't even need two. You need one, who sees the value of your work and wants to champion it."

I'm looking for just one...

Read More »

20 comments #OwnVoices, Janet Reid, Lisa Bodenheim, Ruby Ibarra