Many Black Girls Still Say White Dolls Are Prettier

Almost two years ago, I wrote a post, here, about Kiri Davis' high school project, A Girl Like Me, which recreated the ground-breaking experiment conducted in the fifties by psychologist Kenneth B. Clark. The test was conducted again in 2009, and it seems there is a little progress, at least where boys are concerned. But the majority of girls continues, sadly, to thing that pretty is white...


   

      In GMA Test Many Black Girls Still Say White Dolls Are Prettier - Dolls - Jezebel - Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

Thanks to Lee and Low Books's blog for bringing that new experiment to our attention.

"Bi-Racial, Not Black... damnit"

This above is the title of a trailer I saw on Facebook, a few days ago (watch the beginning, and then click again on the video to see the interviews.)

I have already commented on my feelings, as the mother of two biracial children, when facing the tendency to consider all children with some African or African American blood as black. It took me a while to warm up to Obama because of that only, because I felt that by declaring himself black, he somehow rejected his white mother AND white grandparents who raised him. I had to read his book, Dreams from My Father, to understand his search for identity and the way he came to terms with it, himself. And I've always liked and admired Tiger Wood's refusal to be labelled  a Black man, considering his diverse heritage, and how he came up with his own word (cablinasian).

Not that the subject comes up that often. We do not live in the US, and even though I often miss it and wish at times I could be back in Park Slope, Brooklyn, I've also always felt that it might be better for our daughters to grow up far from all the race issues that are so big over there. Not saying that there aren't race issues in other countries. Do I wish. But they don't seem to be as raw, painful and overly present as they are in the US.

Yes, racism is strong in India. The whiter the better. Still, Indians are brown people, which means that my children blend in perfectly, here. Recently, as we waited to hear about our next post, a couple of Latin American countries came up as possibilities, one of them being Argentina, and even though I did not veto it (I have a list of requirements that evolves with time, and our experiences; up till now, it included good internet access, a good school - although, as experienced here, what you see on the Internet or during a first visit of a school is in no way a guarantee that said school will live up to its promises - reasonable supply and security situation, not necessarily in that order) I had growing misgivings about it, and when it turned out that we're not going there, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Why? Well, Argentina is known to be a country of white people, and as I said to my husband, "If we must live in a society that is more backward than forward when it comes to race issues, I'd rather be in a brown racist society than a white one."

Anyway, the video and its title stirred some conversation. The documentary film maker, Carolyn Battle's website, mentions "Private Conversations" as a title for the movie, so not sure how the other one came about - catchier, maybe. No matter, I found it very interesting. 

I often wonder about how my children perceive themselves? Do they even think about it? I'm not sure. As mentioned before, here, I always tell them they're cinnamon in the case of the older one, and toffee brown, for the younger. But they're very aware of the fact that I'm white, and Dad is Black. The other day, we were at the beach in Goa, and two dogs, a white one, and a black one, were walking together, and my husband took a picture and they ran to show it to me, saying " this is Mom and Dad." But do they, or will they, one day, feel that they need to belong to one race or another, as did most of the people interviewed in this trailer? Will they feel rejected by one race or the other and feel they don't belong anywhere? 

One thing is sure, as a white mother of biracial children, I was glad to see this video. It may not be politically correct to say this, but I refuse to subscribe to the "one drop rule." I've said it before and I repeat it here. It has nothing to do with rejecting the black race, and all to do with stating the facts. My children are no more black than they're white, so why should anyone (including themselves) deny their whiteness? Reminds me of a time when teachers would ask children at the beginning of the school year, in France, whether they were from another country, and I would get up, along with the few other children of immigrant parents, and the teacher would invariable ask me to sit back because "You are French." It made me so angry. I was and felt as much French as I was and felt Spanish. To me, there was a clear line running down the length of my body, right in the middle, and one part was French, the other Spanish, and telling me that I was French only just because I happened to have the "right" passport felt profoundly wrong. I was only 6 or 7 at the time, so unable to articulate this as clearly as I do it, now, but I vividly remember my feelings.

Children (and adults, too, for that matter) should be allowed to embrace their heritages and diversity in all their fullness, wholeness and richness. No one should feel that they have to cut or ignore parts of who they are just so they can fit into the boxes offered them. And if the need to fit into a box is stronger, then create new and accurate ones that "feel" right, like Tiger Wood. 

One aspect of the debate on diversity in children's books : the name of the characters

Mitali Perkins launched a new great discussion about diversity in children's books, here, and here. I was glad to see one question address the issue of the lack of diversity in the characters' names. I ranted enough about this (well, I had Amadi do it, actually) when it was decided that I had to find him a new name; Ifeanyi (his original name) was deemed too strange, too difficult to read. I could understand the publisher's and editor's concerns and I know they had the book's best interest at heart. This is not so much about them, as it is revealing of a general, mainstream approach to all things considered even mildly different, therefore possibly threatening, at the very least difficult -- and who has time for difficult, right? 

As a sidenote, I shared the name anecdote with the children at the Vidyaranya High School, here, in Hyderabad. I wrote Ifeanyi on the black board, without having said it, and asked them to read it. They all did, flawlessly. Of course, these children are all at least bilingual (English and Hindi, and/or Telugu, and/or Tamil, and/or Urdu, and/or Bengali... etc, etc.) Maybe one answer to that particular problem would be to put more emphasis on the need for American children to learn at least one other language (and when I say learn, I mean as in being able to actually speak it, really, not just playing around with a few strange or funny-sounding words here and there, words forgotten almost as soon as they've been heard.)

Ethnic awards : is it time for a new approach?

I have been suffering from Blogger's Block, lately. Petty, mundane, and not so petty or mundane life worries seem to fill out my mind. But then, I came across an important debate on Read Roger's blog, today, and it seems fitting to mention it here, right after a post celebrating the inaugural of Obama.

Should awards like the Coretta Scott King or the Belpré live on as they are, or should the whole concept of awards based on the ethnicity, identity of the author/illustrator be entirely reframed?

As I read Marc Aronson (do note that the article was written in 2001) and Esme Codell's arguing the need to rethink these awards, and in light of what we hope to be a new era, one that made it possible for a global citizen with white and black blood (I mention the white blood first because his mother, who carried him and pushed him into this world, was white, and so she comes first; if his mother had been black, I would have switched the order) to be elected as president of the United States of America, I found myself nodding a lot. But then, Andrea Davis Pinkney and Yuyi Morales (look up Yuyi's input in the comments section of Esme Codell's post) contributing their own thoughts had me thinking some more.

And finally, there was Richard Michelson's conclusion, that somehow wraps things us for me: "... while the majority must open its gates to the minority, it is up to the minority to decide when they want to put out the welcome mat. Clearly we are not there yet."

Doesn' it all boil down to this? Yes, atrocities and injustice created this world where affirmative action and ethnic awards like the Coretta Scott King and Belpre's awards are needed if the voice of the minorities are to find avenues to make themselves known and heard. The question is : can I objectively write the previous sentence in the past tense? Has the world changed so much that minority authors can hope to see their work published and appreciated for their content, and without the help of awards based on the identity of the author or the artist? Has the world changed so much that authors or artists who belong to the majority can be included, so that these ethnic awards would be exclusively about the quality of the work, and no longer care about the identity of their author/illustrator? 

The majority, to which I belong, would like to say : YES, it has. Because majority people like me, who understand that being "non racist" requires active and conscious work, somehow feel cheated when a minority refuses to include them. I mean, I'm NOT a racist, and I work hard at not only embracing and advocating an inclusive multicultural world, but also at fighting any residual thought or impulse born from my being a white person who was brought up in a predominantly white world. It is my will and my dream that my biracial children grow up and experience a world where the color of their skin will never cause them sorrow, frustration or any other negative emotion or experience. Doesn't, shouldn't that count for something?

Well, the response ultimately lies with the minority, those who were (are)  wronged, persecuted, and silenced for too long. How long will it take for them to feel, judge and declare that things have now truly changed and they can finally let go of all the hurt and the past? Who can say? But as Richard Michelson states : "clearly we are not there yet."

Where does that leave us, as far as ethnic awards are concerned? Might the answer lie somewhere between both extremes : let the Coretta Scott King Award and the Belpré live, maybe until the much awaited "new" reality declares them as belonging to History, and therefore obsolete. In the meantime, new awards could be created that " honor books entirely based on identity - but not that of the author, only the themes in the books," (as mentioned by Marc Aronson, about the Lambda Literary Awards). 

Seems to me this whole, necessary debate, is about how to best negotiate a fundamental transition. I also like Mitali Perkin's conclusion : "I'll fight to the end for NO APARTHEID in WRITING." I'll drink a virtual glass of champagne to that.

Food metaphors to describe skin color

After publishing my post, yesterday, I left a comment on Mitali's blog: 

"Hello Mitali, chiming in from India, where the Diwali celebrations are deafening. I greatly enjoyed this discussion, even though I did wonder about your point number 10, and the apparent ban on food metaphors to describe skin color (which I personally see as loving and positive). But then, I remembered that the whole discussion is meant in the context of the third person narrators's point of view in a novel. Thanks for sharing this with us."

Here is Mitali's response:

"Hi Katia, number 10 is mainly because food has been so overdone in ethnic description that it almost sounds cliche. The point being that we're writers, so it's time for some creative new linguistic play."

OK, so I had it right, regarding the need for writers to stretch their writing skills and imagination, but (and maybe this is me, being my usual non-compliant self) I still like the food metaphors, for the reasons mentioned before. Maybe I can keep some of them, and try and introduce them in more creative ways. 

Have I ever mentioned how I tend to resist and balk when told that I shouldn't do something? Tell me to do something while giving me a good reason why I should, and I'm right there with you most of the time. But tell me : you should not do this, either because it's not done, or because it no longer is, and this cocky contrary little Katia springs up with a hand on her hip and goes : "Oh yeah, says who, and why?" 

That alter ego is sometimes right (if only in the sense that it pushes me to think more, to question, to challenge), sometimes dreadfully wrong (as in simply being a manifestation of a rather stubborn streak.) And it usually takes me a while to figure that out. So, I will continue thinking about this... which is all good, anyway.

Further thoughts on the discussion about the ways authors should - and should not - describe their character's race.

I've been thinking a lot about the discussion started by Mitali, and her 10 points summary. I want to report some of the comments I found on Mitali’s blog. 

Cynthia Leitich Smith said : "Thank you, Mitali, for yet another thoughtful post. It reinforces your global point, I think, that I'd urge writers to use specific tribal affiliations rather than Native American or American Indian generally--so long as that information is available/applicable to the narrator POV. It also discourages defaulting to Hollywood stereotypes or "fungible" Indians, who make little to no sense to insider readers." 

And Mitali responded: “When it comes to describing cultures, specific is always better than general. And more interesting, too. A story set "somewhere in Africa" won't match the authenticity of a book set in a particular village in Mali, for example.”

Absolutely. Amadi's ethnicity, for instance, is a crucial element of the story in "Amadi's Snowman". He's an Igbo boy, and it is because of this particular heritage, with its traditional emphasis on trading, that he mistakenly assumes he's fine knowing his numbers and doesn't need to read letters. Which doesn't minimize the universal quality of the story: resistance to change, reluctance to learn something new and unfamiliar, in this case, reading. But the character and his particular story could only happen within the Igbo context.

I’ve also been thinking about the last point of the summary: “Unleash your creativity when it comes to descriptions of appearance. It's unanimous: stay away from food metaphors when it comes to describing skin color. Scrupulously avoid cliché when talking about a character's appearance. Let's invent fresh ways of describing the human diversity on our planet, and set our young readers free to enjoy fresh ways of seeing it.”

When I read this, my first reaction was: What's wrong with food metaphors, as long as they convey a positive message? Now, I totally understand and agree that writers need to stretch their imagination, and always try to come up with new ways of describing things. That's what writing is all about. Still...

One book that I read often to my biracial daughters is Karen Katz' "The Colors of Us." A 7-year-old discovers the many shades of browns that humans come in by taking a walk around her neighborhood. Cinnamon, French toast, creamy peanut butter, chocolate brown, peachy, honey, "reddish brown, like leaves in the fall" (that's one that departs from the comparison with food), cocoa brown, butterscotch, bronze and amber (another departure from food), ginger and chili powder, coconuts and coffee toffee. And when the child sets out to paint everyone, she says " their names aloud. Cinnamon, chocolate, and honey. Coffee, toffee, and butterscotch. They sound so delicious." And they do. 

And don't all parents tell their small children that they could eat them up. I certainly have, often, and still do from time to time. And ever since my daughters were born, I have told them that their skin was cinnamon for the first one, and more like toffee for the second one. 

The Danish mother of one of my youngest daughters' friends was telling me, one day, about their Indian nanny’s reaction, the first time she gave a bath to the 3-year-old girl: she kept laughing and saying that her bottom looked like "two little white buns." Obviously, the food metaphor works throughout the whole color spectrum. I personally see it as a natural and rather loving way of describing the color of someone’s skin. 

But then, I went back to the discussion, and was struck, the second time around, by a point I had kind of overlooked before. The whole conversation is about the description of characters from an omniscient 3d person narrator’s POV, in novels.

In other words, the omniscient narrator of a novel should not be caught describing one of the story’s characters as having a skin the color of cinnamon, or peach, or anything else. Now, that makes more sense to me. 

 

Discussion about writing race in novels

Mitali Perkins launched a thought-provoking discussion about writing race in a novel. Here are some of the responses she received to the question : Should an author describe the race of a character or leave it to the reader's imagination? I couldn't resist copying and pasting some of the responses she's gotten so far.

If a character is of a certain race in writer's mind, why not describe it? Otherwise the reader assumes it's dominant group, right? — Sarah Rettger

I'm not an author, but I'd think that if it's important, then it will come out in other ways, such as in the reaction of others to that character. — Kathy Christie Hernandez

How important is it that the reader understand the author's original intent, and how much can the text speak to his/her experience apart from it? I think details on race, especially in your genre, will help some readers identify with the characters, while other readers may gloss over those details to find something more universal to identify with. I would vote to describe race. — Rena Chinn

For me, I'm torn because my character's race has nothing to do with the current story. I know she's black, though, and in her background, I know how that plays into the choices she's made to get to where she is when this story happens. I see her clearly in my mind, I have to give her a bit of a physical description, as I would for any other character. Where I feel stupid is, natch, that I don't describe any one as Caucasian or mention that my hero is probably half-Jewish, so why would I describe this character as black? But I also feel, when I describe her, that if I don't make it clear what she looks like, I look like I'm avoiding this detail of who she is. It all comes back to the fact that, in my head, her being black is an important part of why she lives where she does. And the book will (hopefully) be part of a series and maybe in one of the later books, this bit of background that's tied to her being black, may come out into play. — Becky Levine

How does one "describe" race since race is a social construct? Color-related terms? (Then we end up with awful similes and metaphors - many to do with food!) — Pooja Makhijani

In my current WIP (middle grade) the protagonist is Indian (or South Asian-American, or Indo-American, or of Bengali heritage - what do we call it?), but the story really has NOTHING to do with BEING Indian. However, her background, and her family's background, add texture to the story. But if her heritage is not integral to advancing the story, then how much attention should I call to her "ethnicity"? I'm happy with the book the way it is, but readers and reviewers may think otherwise. — Anjali Banerjee

I think in some books it's important for the plot (Come a Stranger by Cynthia Voigt, or The Moves Make the Man by Bruce Brooks, Jaqueline Woodson's Maizon trilogy are a few that come to mind right away), but it can also build plot -- you don't realize that the character is of xyz ethnicity until something happens in the plot. I like that picture book artists are being more inclusive, using many different types of children in their illustrations ... Overall, "show don't tell" comes to mind. — Suzi Wackerbath

When a "white" character comes on scene, I don't think I've ever read "a white girl with blonde hair." But if a person of any color is described for the first time, I see a lot of "African-American boy with light skin" or "Asian-American girl with long hair." It's a little off-putting as a reader, plus isn't it kind of klunky? — Justina Chen Headley

I think Sarah may have hit on one of the key things here--that idea of assumption that a character is from the dominant race. Yuck--not to Sarah at all, but to that feeling that we (I!) DO do this. So then, what are we doing when we identify a character by race/ethnicity--are we playing into some idea I wouldn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole? — Becky Levine

I also reacted to Sarah's comment -- because no, I don't assume the character is of the dominant race. I don't assume the character is of the dominant race. As a child, I was always looking for cues that a character was of MY race (Asian), and would take physical cues, such as black hair, as evidence to support my wish. I think if it fits in naturally, if it matters what their race is, why not? But I'm also all for being vague, and using a broad variety of physical traits for your characters. It makes a difference. — Alvina Ling

I, like Sarah, would tend to assume. — Jackie Parker

Alvina, I probably should have phrased that differently -- when I assume a character is white, it's just as likely that I'm assuming s/he looks like me. I went to college in an environment where identity politics were huge, so I'm very conscious of the fact that I continue to make these assumptions. With my latest WIP, I've run into this from the writer's side. I submitted the first few chapters to my critique group, and one critique partner said that based on my main character's voice, she knew just what the character looked like -- Drew Barrymore in Ever After. I didn't describe the MC physically in those chapters. In fact, she's a mixture of English, Spanish, and Afro-Caribbean, something that comes out in a later scene (which I've now moved up in the story) where she meets characters with skin darker than hers - and notices it. A cross between Drew Barrymore and Eva Mendes is a little closer to what I was aiming for, but without being explicit about the main character's background/appearance, that wasn't coming across. And to Pooja's point, I'm definitely not using food metaphors to do it! — Sarah Rettger

I remember reading The Princess Academy in early 2007 while preparing for a trip to China and Tibet. While reading the book, I imagined the characters to be from this part of the world. I don't recall physical descriptions of race or ethnicity, but reading about traders, the mountain pass, village elders and the harsh living conditions made me think this. The girls pictured on the cover were faceless and I didn't take any cues from them. I don't know if this is what Hale intended, but I enjoyed my reading of the book this way. I was terribly disappointed when the paperback copy of the book came out with the image of very white girl on the cover. This image made me rethink my reading of the book and wonder what I missed. When I read, I picture my characters based on the setting and cultural cues the author provides. And must say, I like it this way. — Tricia Stohr-Hunt

Just a week ago someone in our (writer's) group asked me what my character looked like -- she has leg braces and crutches and dark hair, but there was a complaint because no one exactly knew her race. I think it's an identity thing and important to certain human beings for some reason. Maybe adult human beings more than young adults? I'm with Pooja; I find it hard to describe sometimes, and God help me if I default to mocha or chocolate or caramel... (because the paler alternatives are almonds and bananas and peaches. Which is just as ridiculous.) — Tanita Davis

I think it's important not to use "race" and "ethnicity" interchangeably. (i.e. My ethnicity is South Asian [or whatever we're calling it these days]; I don't know what my race is.) As a reader, I'd like to see even more books with non-white characters. (We've come a long way, but there's more work to do!) And I think it's important for readers of color to recognize themselves in the books that they read. If we, as writers, have to be more explicit about it (sans food metaphors), why not? Alvina, as a child, I didn't see myself in any of the books I read. But, I imagined my favorite characters looked like me. In my head, even Anne of Green Gables was a dark-haired, olive-skinned gal! — Pooja Makhijani

I definitely struggle with this, because I have characters with various ethnicities in the YA novels I write -- many of whom are of mixed ethnicity and somewhat ambiguous in actual appearance (in my head, anyway!), not just in their descriptions on paper. In fact, that's an important theme in one of my novels, which sort of spoofs the whole food-metaphor idea. Sometimes I end up slipping in a person's last name somewhere and using that as a clue to ethnicity, but it can't be used as the sole cue for appearance, or the writing may fall into the trap of assuming that everyone of a particular ethnicity will look the same. I feel like it's a tough line to walk, because I really want to include a variety of characters in my novels but as part of a normal environment, NOT necessarily as a plot point. As someone of mixed ethnicity who grew up in a fairly diverse environment, a lot of my YA settings reflect my own experiences...but unless it's part of the plot, I try to rely as much as possible on implication through small telling details rather than directly stating somebody's ethnicity, if possible. So far, anyway... :) — A. Fortis

I second Pooja's comment about race versus ethnicity. We should not use the terms interchangeably. "Race" generally refers to biological (phenotypic) characteristics. "Race" is not particularly useful when we talk about humans, as all humans are about 99.9% identical in genetic terms. There's more genetic variation *within* groups than *between* groups. This kind of homogeneity is unusual in other species, apparently. "Ethnicity" is a social construct, a cultural classification. We have many ways of interpreting and defining ethnicity. We also have to consider the tension/relationship between our role as artists -- telling a story and being true to the story -- and the culture in which we move. In a way, we're asking, what is our responsibility, as writers, to the society at large? An interesting aside -- the Indian cover of my novel, MAYA RUNNING (Penguin-India) shows a black silhouette of a teenage girl on a pink and white background. The North American cover (Random House) shows a brown-skinned girl, clearly Indian, with a huge image of Ganesh above her head. Hmmm. — Anjali Banerjee

Find Mitali's summary of the discussion on her blog, Mitali's Fire Escape : Ten Tips On Writing Race in Novels

The Princess Problem : there may be ways of circumventing it ?

For all the parents like me, out there, sick and tired of the whole Pink Princess thing - as if pink Barbies weren't enough - there is a good article on Anti-Racist Parents titled : "The Princess Problem : There is more than one way of being pretty" that shoots a much-deserved cyber bullet into the infuriating brainwashing that our children are exposed to, thanks to the mass-marketing of white dolls or white movie characters always getting the "enviable" part of the princess heroine.

The other day, only, I was reading Snow White to my daughters for the first time ever, it seems, and I started jumping words and whole sentences when I saw that Snow White was born with a skin white as snow, which of course made her the most beautiful girl. Problem is : my older daughter can now read, and what worked when she was little, not longer does now. She noticed something amiss, looked at the book, and caught me red-handed. I told her I was annoyed to see white people constantly portrayed as being the most beautiful, because it's an old lie, and everyone is tired of it, and if some are not, they definitely ought to be. I never know whether my reaction is a good one, when this kind of thing happens. I guess honesty is always right, and even if I don't convince them, right now, some nuggets of those conversation will hopefully remain lodged somewhere in their psyche. My youngest daughter has taken to saying all the time that she loves her Scandinavian friend's hair because it's smooth and platinum blond. I simply respond that her hair is different but just as beautiful.

To go back to the whole princess thing, it's hard, because I remember being fascinated with princesses, as a child. And living in a totally white world, I never even thought that princesses could or should be anything but white. So, there are two problems in one, really. First, princesses don't have to be all light-skinned and blond. And second, what's so enviable about the princess waiting helplessly for the prince to rescue her?

Anyway, that article mentions several titles of books that show princess heroines with brown skin. AND there is apparently a book that also discusses the whole Princess thing by asking a sound and much- needed question : "What does a princess do?" Indeed.

I can't wait to be in the US, this coming summer, so I can check these books out and buy a few. And they just reduced the baggage allowance on transcontinental airplane journeys. OK, that's totally off-topic.

To end on another off-topic, it is HOT in Hyderabad !

Black Doll White Doll

In her last article on New Demographic, Carmen Van Kerckhove mentions a short documentary filmed by 17-years old Kiri Davis as a high school project: A Girl Like Me. She decided to repeat an experiment conducted by psychologist Kenneth B. Clark in 1954, in which he showed a black and a white doll to black children, and asked them to choose the one they preferred. The vast majority chose the white doll.

Over fifty years later, Kiri conducted the same test on 21 black children in New York City, and 15 chose the white doll.




Kiri Davis's experiment is conducted in the US. But I'd bet that if someone conducted the same experiment here, in India, the vast majority, if not all the Indian children, would also choose the white doll over a brown or a black one.

Maybe this experiment should be conducted everywhere in the world. Because seeing the child who not only chooses the white doll, but when asked to show the bad one, chooses the black doll, and then, when asked what doll looks like her, hesitates a fraction of a second, and then pushes the black doll towards the filmmaker... I don't know that I can ever forget the expression on the face of that child. Carmen's title for that article is "What is the human cost of racism?" Well, we see it on the face of that little girl. And it is heartbreaking.

Ranting about Barbie !

On Sunday afternoon, we went to one of the big department stores that have sprouted all over Hyderabad over the past two years - I'm not kidding, this place is changing FAST.

First, we went to a music store and my 7-year-old ran straight to the DVD display and soon came to me with a Barbie movie in her hand... and a pleading look on her face.

Goodness, but I HATE Barbie! I would like to lit a bonfire and throw if not ALL the Barbies of the world, at least an enormous percentage - how about a good 50 per cent - of the white Barbie dolls in it and watch as all that sickly plastic melts into nothing.

Back to the music store: I tried to distract my daughter, to show her other movies - Hey, The Jungle Book is finally here! Remember the Jungle Book? Mowglie, Bagheera, the bare necessities of life? "This is for babies", she said with a look of disdain on her face. Shame on me, but I sent her to see her father, knowing he'd probably buy it. My husband, the black guy in this family, doesn't have, nor understands all my hang-ups about Barbie. And yeah, he bought it. And now, I hate myself. Let me add that we barely ever visit department stores. So, it's not like this scene would happen every week, or even every month. And since we don't receive any TV channel in our house - it's a choice - the kids can only watch videos and DVDs carefully chosen... usually. Later, I did tell my daughter why I don't like Barbie - in case she'd forgotten since my last rant on the subject - but even as I spoke, I tried to imagine what she might be thinking. "What is wrong with Mom? Why does she hate Barbie so much because she's blond and has blue eyes? Mom is blond and she's got blues eyes too. OK, her figure is not quite as shapely as Barbie's, and she's definitely older, but hey, Mom could be Barbie's mom, maybe!" Oh, dear!

Then, we went to the areas where they have all the toys, and the nightmare continued. There were about eight shelves of toys, one for Fisher Price toys for babies, one for craft toys, play-doh, beads, etc, and the rest, all the other shelves that represented the whole toy display for the department store, had guess what ? Barbies!!! And guess some more ? Not ONE brown Barbie. There was one white Barbie with brown hair and brown eyes - WOW ! - and all the rest were the usual sickly display of blond, blue-wide-eyed Barbies being a teacher, to a blond child of course, being a veterinarian, etc. Even the dogs are blond, for Pete's sake! And then Polly Pockets : same. All blond. We live in INDIA ! Where people have raven black hair, brown skin in all possible shades of brown, from very light to just as dark as any black person - some women and men, especially in the south where we live, have darker skins than my husband. What message does that send to all the children who look at these dolls and get them as presents, or they wouldn't be there, right ? Even the Indian Barbies are basically as light as the white Barbie, only they wear saris.

Maybe we should just avoid department stores. I'm only hoping my daughters - the little one who is 3 has started to become interested in Barbie dolls, as well - will not ask one for Christmas. Or maybe I should order a brown one for each of them right now and have them sent to me. That way, I won't be stuck, if/when the letter to Santa comes and it's too late to order brown ones and have them delivered all the way to India.

More thoughts and questions about anti-racist parenting from the point of view of a white mother

I've been reading more blogs written by multi-racial parents over the past few days. Basically, anyone interested in these issues, anyone concerned by them, parents of multiracial kids, parents who've adopted children from other races, seem to agree on a number of things: Racism is difficult to fight because it's everywhere, it's such a part of the social fabric that it permeates every aspect of life: it's on TV (and that's why we don't receive any TV channel in our home. We own a TV and we watch DVDs that we have chosen); it's in books; it's on the shelves of every toy store (I loved reading posts of parents sharing my concern about the supremacy of blond Barbies, and the dearth of dolls representing multiracial children,) etc.

Things start getting a little more difficult when the issue of whiteness comes into play. Basically, are white people capable of fighting racism? And it should be understood that the white people I'm referring to are not those who deny the existence of racism (that's another issue altogether), but white people who recognize that racism is a major problem and are willing and ready to do what's necessary to eradicate it from the world.

I'm a white person and I belong to that second category. I agree that white supremacy is hard to destroy. It sucks. The white supremacist approach to society allowed slavery and colonialism to happen. And it perverted the thinking of generations of people all over the world. If I cannot drive in the streets of India without seeing huge billboards advertising soaps or skin products that will make your skin "fair" - read lighter, whiter - it's because for so long, the people of India were made to believe that white was better, white was where the power/the money are. And they still believe it. It's everywhere. Before coming to India, I lived in Nigeria, where women destroy their skins in their attempts to make it lighter. For the same reasons. And I could go on and on. Yes, white supremacy has done some horrible things to the world. I agree. Now, what ?

I am white, but I'm not a racist. Or rather, I am white, but I'm not consciously a racist. By that, I mean that I understand how growing up as a white person in a dominantly white society is bound to have perverted some of my thinking, IN SPITE OF MYSELF. I'm aware and I want to fight my white outlook on things as much as possible. I want to live my life with open eyes, and an open mind and heart. I want it, first and foremost, because I hate injustice. Injustice makes me sick and angry and disgusted. That's who I am, who I've always been. Now, to that, I have to add the responsibility of being the mother of two bi-racial children who may, some day, face prejudice.

I read a comment somewhere that said : "being actively anti-racist for white people often means attacking their own privileges." This, to me, feels like an over-simplification of a very complex issue. I will not deny feeling sometimes defensive. It's hard, being part of a majority that's acted badly. Just ask the generations of Germans who came AFTER the Second World War. They had/have not participated in the Nazi horror, and most of them felt/feel? very much ashamed, but they still had/have? to bear that terrible legacy. Why? Because they happened to be born in the country where it all started, where it all developped, where it was all allowed to happen. Feeling defensive is natural and I'm also aware of that. But how could I possibly give a damn about seeing my white privileges attacked, if these privileges have the power to hurt other people, especially my own children?

My kids are what matters, much more than my need to voice politically correct ideas and to feel good because I know that I’m right. What I want is for them to be happy persons, well balanced. I don’t want them to be eternally angry at the world because I don’t think that will make them happy. Not to say that a healthy dose of angry criticism is not sometimes - often? - necessary. But anger is not the emotion I want to instill into my children’s souls at such a young age. And I’m weary of hammering concepts – however proper and correct they may be - into their young brains. I'd prefer a softer approach.

So, once more, I’m NOT rejecting the concept of being actively anti-racist. Of course not. Rather, I wonder what being an active anti-racist parent actually means? How do mothers/parents go about being actively anti-racist in the BEST, LESS DAMAGING way for their children, without being too forceful and obvious, without the subject of race becoming an issue? I mean, we are all part of the human race, and ideally, that should be the beginning and the end of the discussion.

For some people, it may seem as if I’m taking the easy way out. I'm not so sure. I’m searching. I’m questioning. I’m spending time writing in this blog, reading. If I look around our home, I also realize that we have created an environment which is as multicultural as it can possibly be. My husband and I have travelled and lived in many countries and it shows on our walls, in our furniture, on our books and CD shelves and even in our wardrobes. Is that enough? I'd like to think that it is, but of course, I can't be sure. Time only will tell. In the meantime, I can only keep searching and wondering. Most probably I’ll blunder my way along, but isn’t parenting (white, brown, black and all the shades in between) a massive and humbling circle of trials and blunders, anyway?

How does a white mother best prepare her bi-racial children to face issues of racism?

I've been guilty of procrastinating an awful lot, lately. I have a good excuse, mind you. The number of interesting blogs out there is simply mind blogging, euh, no, boggling. Anyway, I came across an interesting new one - for me - titled My Sky - Multiracial Family Life

Of course, the question raised was bound to hold my interest: how important is racial identity?

I could not help but add a comment, and as I wrote it, I realized, once more, the extraordinary magnitude and complexity of the issue: are white people as aware as they should be of the need to actively fight racism?

Actually, having now lived in India for a while, with a Black husband who's had to deal with the blatant racism of people barely darker than he is, I wish I could widen the debate, because the white/non-white approach seems to reduce it. But of course, that would make things even more confusing... as if they weren't already.

There was an interesting conversation on the same topic on Alvina Ling's blog, last year.

My interest in the issue is two-fold. First, I can't imagine not fighting racism for simple human reasons. Racism is NOT acceptable, period. The fact that I married someone from a different race had basically no incidence on that statement. I was always shocked by racism. Did marrying a black person make me more aware of racism in general ? Frankly, I'm not sure. We met in New York, ten years ago, and lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn, which was home to a wonderfully diverse population of artists, mixed-race couples, same-sex couples, etc, etc. Whenever we went to France, I never felt that people were bothered or shocked to see us together - now, I'm NOT saying that France has no problems of racism, far from it. But, again, I never felt directly concerned or threatened by any particular racist attitude towards us. My take on the issue was basically that racism must be fought at all costs, and that means racism coming from anyone. I read books about that because I'm curious. And that was it. But then, of course, I realized that if we were to have children, I would have to think long and hard about how being bi-racial might affect them. I'm the type who searches for answers in books. I always have. I have dozens of books on races, racism, color issues, and raising bi-racial children, on my shelves. And so, I started approaching the issue a bit differently: as the mother of children who may suffer from racism, some day.

This is where things become far more complicated. Because it's very, very hard to get out of one's white skin. Even when that white skin belongs to a person whose natural inclination is too denounce and cry in outrage against any form of injustice, and racism is one of the worst forms of injustice there is, it is extremely difficult to view the world through eyes that are not coloured by our whiteness. It takes an active decision. It is a conscious choice. And even then, we'll need to fight a natural tendency to overlook things, to maybe shrug and overlook a situation that we'll think is borderline, but that the person who is not white will judge hurtful or unacceptable.

But as a mother, I want to protect my children. Of course, I want to prepare them for the times they might have to fight prejudice. But I don't want to traumatize them with heart-breaking stories of slavery and inhuman suffering. Not before they are a little older, a little stronger. I do realize that avoiding an issue in hopes that it will not present itself is not a good option. I have read to them all the books I could find about diversity, about the beauty of living in a world with children of different colors. I tell them frequently that their skin color is gorgeous. When I comb their hair, I tell them how I love all those lovely curls. And I suppose that the fact that we live outside of the US, in an expatriate and multicultural community, also makes it easier for us. And yet, when I read posts like the aforementioned one, I can't help but wonder if I'm doing enough.

Time shall tell, I suppose. My second-grader asks more and more questions, and probably, questions about race will soon pop up, and I'll know the time has come to tackle that issue. But, frankly, I'm in no hurry. And I don't know if it's because I'm a mother who'd rather avoid painful, difficult issues, or because I'm a white mother who'd rather avoid painful, difficult issues.

Fate? Coincidence? And who are you climbing trees with this week?

Last summer, I attended my very first SCBWI conference in Los Angeles. It was exciting, fun, inspiring, and totally exhausting. By the time I crashed into bed, I was so full of all that had happened during the day that my mind continued to buzz all night long and I barely got any sleep. I met people who came from all over the world. I heard many different languages being spoken among conference attendees. Thanks to that, and to the genuinely friendly atmosphere, I felt totally at ease, and that's rare enough to be mentioned, as I'm at my most awkward in big groups and crowds.

Where is this going, you ask? Well, on the second evening of the peer critique group session, I arrived a few minutes late and was shown two tables where I could sit. I hesitated a fraction of a second and chose the second one. I sat as discreetly as I could and took out my manuscript. After a few seconds, I noticed that the woman sitting next to me was staring at the address at the top of my first page. I looked at her and found her eyeing me with an air that was part unbelieving part suspicious.

She: "You live in Hyderabad?"
Me: "Yes."
She: "Hyderabad, India?"
Me: "Yes." (starting to think : so what's wrong with that?)
She: "That's my hometown!"
Me, eyes now wide open: "Really ?"
You can imagine the rest.

Coincidence? Fate? Just another proof that our world is so much smaller than we imagine it to be? I'm not a religious person, but I believe in signs, in life sending us signals and even tests. And I don't believe in coincidence, not this type of coincidence anyway. What where the odds that I, currently living in a south Indian city, would sit next to THE person (out of the 600 + attendees) who grew up in that same city, at a children's writers' conference in Los Angeles, California, half a world away? And that it would be precisely at a peer critique group where she was bound to see my address on the first page of the manuscript ? I mean, I sat next to a lot of people at that conference, and we sometimes exchanged a few words, but my situation is so complicated - French and Spanish, writes in English, lives in India, currently vacationing in Florida in order to see my husband's family as the situation in Haiti no longer permits that we travel there with our small children... stop to catch my breath - that I usually chose to give a short cut or it would have taken too long to explain it all within the few seconds or minutes we had between talks or riding the elevator. The way I see it? Life, destiny, wanted me to meet this new friend.

Anyway, Rilla came to Hyderabad to visit family over Christmas, and we saw each other. We ended up climbing the very old Golconda fortification walls at sunrise AND a very tricky, slippery 500-year-old African Baobab tree that I had been unsuccessfully trying to locate for some time. We had an absolute ball, and here we are, in the early Hyderabad morning light, talking, talking, talking :

And my point? Well, I just love that story so much that I can't resist telling it over and over again. And because I just LOVE it when life sends me surprises like that. I consider them an invaluable gift. Because even though Rilla is part American part Indian living now in California, and I'm part French part Spanish living now in India, even though our backgrounds differ quite a lot - our childhoods couldn't have been more different, even if she also read in the dark at night - we share a common passion for writing. We both have an interest in multicultural themes and issues. And I think that we all need to meet, talk and laugh with people who come from different backgrounds - social, religious, racial, etc - and chances are we'd better understand how we can all get along.

At that same conference, one of the authors who really stood out for me was Jacqueline Woodson. The world needs more authors like her, who actively seek not only to denounce, but also to bridge the gap between people. She gave a great presentation, and read her last picture book SHOW WAY. It was so beautiful I had tears in my eyes. Someone asked her a question : "Do you think there are still fences in America today?" She was referring to JW's picture book THE OTHER SIDE, where two girls living in a segregated town strike a friendship in spite of the fences that separate their worlds.

Jacqueline Woodson's answer (I quote from memory, so if anyone who was there reads this and thinks that some words are not exactly the ones she used, please, don't sue me :) : "If you haven't had dinner with a black person or a mixed race person at least once in the past week, then, I'd say there are still fences in America today."

How simple, and yet, how very powerful ! Can the whole world do that ? Make sure that we have dinner - or climb trees - with people from a different race and/or religion, and/or sexual inclination... at least once a week ?