“You had me at hello!”  That’s what I said to Paula on 9.19.07 when she sent me an e-mail asking me to consider an invitation to join The Brown Bookshelf.  Honestly, there was never anything to consider.  I knew from conversations with Paula that she would not be a part of anything that would be done halfway nor would she work with anyone who would not give tons of energy, effort, and ideas to see the project all the way through.  I essentially had yes in my mind from the moment I started reading the e-mail.  The more I read, the more excited I became for I saw the potential that could come to pass as a result of The Brown Bookshelf merely existing.

So why The Brown Bookshelf?  Why now?  Because it’s time.  It’s time for a change.  As Mahatma Ghandi once said, “Be the change you are trying to create.”  The Brown Bookshelf wants to be that change.  We’re committed to being the squeaky wheels in the literary community.  The Brown Bookshelf team is passionate about children’s literature as readers, writers, and illustrators. 

In Don’s blog from Monday, he stated that as an African American writer and illustrator, he sometimes feels that although he’s been invited to the party, he’s standing in the corner with the other African American writers and illustrators.  Well, as a self-published writer, I feel like I am standing outside of the building where the party is being held peeking in the windows looking at my traditionally published counterparts enjoy the fruits of their publishing journey. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am not knocking them, hating or whatever the euphemism might be.  On the contrary, I am happy for my counterparts because I see them as my peers and mentors.  I’m motivated by their success and learn from them.  However, I have decided to stop standing outside of the party.  I walked inside with my own chair, sat down, and began taking notes.

I’m a triple minority within the literary community – a Black and self-published author who writes young adult fiction.  I travel within three circles trying to find my way and my comfort zone when my primary goal is to write a good story that connects with readers, young and old.  When I was a teen, you could often find me reading Sweet Valley High and Babysitters Club books, but where were the books with characters that resembled my friends and me?  Maya Angelou once said, “The need for change bulldozed a road down the center of my mind.”

When I received Paula’s invitation, I saw The Brown Bookshelf as a bulldozer coming down the road filled with books by and about African Americans.  The bulldozer is overflowing with books about our past, our present and our future.  I saw Sharon Draper’s books on the bulldozer next to books by Tia Williams, Angela Johnson, Jerry Pinkney, Brenda Woods, Kadir Nelson, and Jacqueline Woodson.  We have books by Nikki Grimes, Charles Smith, Jr. and Mildred Taylor sharing space with Paula Chase, Varian Johnson, Kelly Starling Lyons, Don Tate, and my own.  We are The Brown Bookshelf.

When I first heard that less than two percent of children’s books published last year were written by African American authors, I was shocked. I felt blessed to be a published, black children’s book author, but saddened there were still so few of us in print. Sometimes we’re faced with big issues and it feels overwhelming, like the enormity of it can just swallow us up. Other times, we search for small ways we can chip away at the problem.

I found a way I could contribute when Paula invited me to be part of The Brown Bookshelf. The idea of belonging to a group dedicated to celebrating African-American children’s and YA authors filled with me with hope. It will take time for children’s book publishing to be more inclusive of African-American voices. But The Brown Bookshelf is embarking on a mission we can tackle right now — letting parents, librarians, teachers and others know about wonderful black authors and books they’ve written.

I had an experience recently that shows why that’s important. An African-American man came up to me at a Washington children’s book festival. I could tell from his frustrated expression that something was wrong. He said he wanted to buy a series with a black girl character as a Christmas gift for his young niece, but he had been told there were none out there.  I’ve seen that look of pain before. I’ve seen it in the eyes of disappointed moms who find few children’s books by black authors in their local bookstores, in my own eyes as I’ve searched for a special book for my daughter.

But in this case, I could help. For nearly three years, I’ve facilitated a book club for African-American girls. After I found out his niece’s age, I recommended some series he could check out — Willimena Rules! by Valerie Wilson Wesley, the NEATE series by Just Us Books, Carmen Browne series by Stephanie Perry Moore.  The man wrote down the titles and thanked me. His frustration was replaced with joy.

The books are there, but people have to know about them. That’s what The Brown Bookshelf is doing: We’re bringing children’s books written by African American authors from the margins to center stage. I’m so happy and proud to be part of this special initiative. Please pull up a seat and join our celebration: It’s show time.

When Varian first explained to me the concept behind the Brown Bookshelf — to highlight other African American writers and illustrators of children’s literature — I was ecstatic. Chills rolled down my back as I read his invitation to serve as a committee member. I don’t say that for dramatic flair, I really had goosebumps.

For awhile now, I’ve wanted to connect with other African-American children’s book creators for the purpose of elevating our presence in the publishing world. But I had no idea what to do. Instead, I did nothing. A negative voice inside my head told me that no one in our industry is really interested in African-American authors and illustrators. The voice convinced me that I was powerless to make change. Thankfully, Varian and Paula didn’t listen to any negative voices and charged ahead.

I entered the field of children’s publishing 23 years ago, illustrating mostly for educational publishers. My first trade picture book published in the spring of 2006, with Jump At the Sun. Since then, I’ve gone on to illustrate 7 more books, about one per year. I’ve traveled to many places, promoting my books. I’ve networked and met many people along the way — authors, illustrators, editors, agents, teachers and librarians, willing to help me to reach my goals. I’ve earned my way to sit at the table inside the children’s publishing castle. I’ve enjoyed the journey. Still, I’ve often felt like an outsider (or an insider standing in a dark corner).

In my spare time — if there’s really such a thing — I keep up with children’s publishing news. I like to know who is writing about what. What editor has moved to which house. What books are receiving industry-wide buzz — I love this stuff! But I’ve come to the realization that I’m not the only one standing in the shadow. Along with me are many authors and illustrators of color, more specifically, those in the range of brown to black.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not a whiner. This post isn’t about sour grapes. This post, and the entire Brown Bookshelf initiative, is about encouraging change by, hopefully, flooding the shadows with light, by bringing more attention to a few other deserving people.

Perhaps, you’re thinking, people of color are not in the shadows. What about… (fill in the blank)? And don’t forget…(fill in the blank). Haven’t you heard of…(fill in the blank)?

And to that I say, Yes! I know about…(fill in the blank). I am a big fan of…(fill in the blank). (fill in the blank) has worked hard and deserves to shine under the light. The problem is, too often, the light is so narrowly focused on…(fill in the blank), that others are left sitting in the dark. Alongside me. And I ain’t much of a conversationalist.

So, how do we fix the problem? Well, the answer is too large for me to fit inside of one blog post (which means I don’t know the answer). But I think the answer has to begin in my own backyard, with people of color. And that’s what caused the goose-bumps I mentioned at the beginning of my post — Varian and Paula, and the rest of The Brown Bookshelf team, all African-Americans, doing what we can to make a difference, not by asking the publishing industry to make a change for black people, but by fostering change for ourselves.

My goal is to post a blog here about 4 times per month. What will I blog about? Among other things, trade news, things I hear about on the blogosphere or elsewhere. I’ll blog about things of general interest to writers and illustrators of children’s books. Often times, I’ll blog about my own personal experiences, same as I do on my personal blog. But mostly, I’ll post reviews of brown books.

What is a brown book? Well, the answer gets kind of messy. In my opinion, a brown book would be any book with African-Amerian interest, regardless of the race of it’s creator. But that definition might defeat the purpose of the goals we’ve outlined for this initiative. So, for that reason, when I post book reviews, I will focus on books by and/or about African Americans only. And I pray the industry — and you — will tune-in anyway.

Before I wrote my first blog post here, I was terribly nervous. Felt like I was standing at a podium, about to give a speech before an audience of hundreds. Possibly, thousands.

My team members at The Brown Bookshelf are long-time, polished writers. I started writing about three years ago. Primarily, I’m an illustrator. My words aren’t always right. I have issues with grammar and tense and redundancy and spelling. Sometimes my writings appear under siege, attacked and demolished by a  punctuation A-bomb — dashes and commas and colons landing in all the wrong places.

Since I began writing, I’ve learned many things about myself. Most important, I’ve learned to be myself. I can’t express myself the way Varian or Paula or Kelly or Carla can. But I can present the best Don Tate that anyone can. I ask that you please bare with me.