Well, there it is: my big, fat body.  I’m standing in the Gulf of Mexico, in the middle of a luxurious vacation with a group of my closest friends, enjoying my life and my world and having a wonderful time with people who love me, but I can see as how this would gross you out.  What with me existing and everything.

On Monday, Marie Claire published an blog in their online Year of Living Flirtatiously column called “Should “Fatties” Get A Room?  (Even on TV?)” by Maura Kelly.  I’m not going to link to that article because (in my opinion) Marie Claire is currently loving all the page views and publicity.  But I first read about it on Jezebel, where there’s plenty of excerpts from the article and a link you can follow to it, if you’d like.

Anyhow, the article went viral, Kelly issued a completely awesome non-apology and it started a really good conversation about about if fat people, like, have a right to exist even if they make people like Maura Kelly upset “simply by walking across the room.”  Well, OK, there’s actually been much more conversation, commentary, and insight written about it and I’ve appreciated it, really, and I’ve appreciated that so many people spoke up and said, “This is offensive, this hurts me, this isn’t OK.”  That part is awesome.

But at the same time?  What in the holy hell?  There is no both sides.  There is no “let’s talk about Maura Kelly’s points!”  She doesn’t have any points.  She does not have an argument.  She wrote an offensive, hateful piece that isn’t well written or edited and isn’t really coherent.  This doesn’t mean “why bother responding?”  as most of you know, I *always* think it’s worth responding.  But … wow.  That this is what we’re responding to?  It’s almost shocking.

Almost, I say, because on the other hand, it’s not shocking at all.  It’s barely a surprise, I guess, to me as a fat person.  That’s what it means to be fat, after all, that people can “seriously” write things like this for a major national publication and get away with phrasing it like a question.  Should fat people be allowed to make out?

I wasn’t always aware of fat activism, part of it, you know.  I didn’t just spring into being this way.  Wading out in the Gulf of Mexico, the sand under my toes and the water deliciously cool on a hot day, I think that was maybe the first time in my adult life I was in a swimsuit without some sort of cover-up trying to hide my body.

It felt so good.

Understanding my body was not my enemy, understanding that people do not have an unalienable right to comment on and judge my body, that my body is not part of their conversation – that changed everything.   Maura Kelly, Marie Claire, that ridiculous blog, they deserve a response.  And that response is: shut the fuck up.

OK, fine, that’s simplifying it a bit.  What I mean to say is: my body is not yours for public discussion.  How I walk across a room, how I kiss a man, how I eat a pretzel, how I look in a swimsuit with clear blue water washing over my skin – that is not yours to feel repulsed by, to wonder about, to comment on at all.

That’s mine.

This is how my fat activism started: the awareness that my body was mine.  It grew from there, spurred on by conversations with a very smart person who knew about body politics and encouraged me to think about it, by my development as a feminist, and, oh yeah, by my reading.

In reading others stories, I saw my life and my struggles reflected back, and I knew that I wasn’t alone.  It is this connection that has always made reading so powerful, so important to me.

Over a year ago, I started planning a program for the 2010 YALSA YA Literature Symposium.  The idea?  To look at the many books published for young adults (in the last five years) dealing with fat issues, fat characters, and even fat acceptance.  These books (some good, some bad, some trying) that had characters that were learning to make peace with their bodies, to stand up for themselves, to figure out who they were – these books I thought could be a connection for so many teenagers.

One week from today, what began, over a year ago, as an idea for an author panel program will now be a half-day pre-conference.

I hope that this is just the beginning of the conversation, the first step in getting word out to librarians (and teens!) that there are books being published now that reflect a world full of different bodies and different sizes and these voices can help teenagers (can help anyone!) learn to stop apologizing for their bodies and start telling people like Maura Kelly that they’ll walk across the room without any shame and she doesn’t get the slightest bit say in it.

I hope you’ll join the conversation and spread the message.  It’s the most important thing we, as a community of librarians, reviewers, and writers, could ever say to Marie Claire or Maura Kelly.

It’s the best response we can give.

(additionally: if you’re coming to the symposium, please let me know, I’m super-excited about getting to meet up with as many people as possible!)

“The world changes in direct proportion to the number of people willing to be honest about their lives.”
–Armistead Maupin

Happy National Coming Out Day!

I thought it was important to begin this post with the word “happy” because … well, that’s an important part of an important conversation, something that shouldn’t be forgotten.

Recently, as most everyone knows, a rash of suicides involving young men from all across the country has seized the national conversation.  All of their suicides were undoubtedly linked to sexuality and gender based torment, intimidation, and harassment.  (see how much more accurate and powerful those words are instead of “they were bullied.”) While we know that LGBTQ teens are more likely to commit suicide, while we even know that the harassment of LGBTQ students is endemic, there was something about these suicides that made people really stop and think.  It really took hold when Dan Savage launched the It Gets Better project, which has moved beyond “going viral” and is now everywhere, with celebrities recording PSAs, your mom posting that video of Ellen on Facebook, and People doing a cover story.

And while “it gets better” is an absolutely vital message, one worth spreading, while it’s amazing this has made people actually talk about what the nightmare of being harassed as a LGBTQ kid (or even a child who is perceived to be) is like – I think it’s important that it doesn’t dominate the conversation and become the only message.

To that end, I was reading an article in the New York Times about a LGBTQ support group for 11-14 year olds and one bit stuck out in my mind.  The leader of the group was showing them videos from It Gets Better and encouraging dialogue about Tyler Clementi.  One boy, aged 12, said: “But he was in college.  I thought it was supposed to get better after high school.”

It’s our job, as librarians, as people who work with and are involved in the lives of teens and children, to let them know that, yes, it gets better.  But they can help make it better, it can be better now.

How do we do that?  Here’s five simple steps I recommend all librarians who work with children and teens take. (or teachers!  or teen advocates!)

1. 1. For all of you who spread the message of the It Gets Better Project on Facebook, Twitter, your blog, or anywhere else, please take a minute or two to share the Make It Better Project.  Make It Better is an initiative for teens to  help make it better in their schools and communities.  There are YouTube videos of teens speaking out and a whole bunch of tools and action steps for interested teens.  Teens deserve to know that they have the power to share their stories too, to be part of making their world better.
2. 2. October is GLBT History Mont, so celebrate GLBT History Month at your library.  At my library, we have just about every kind of seasonal or thematic display you can imagine, why shouldn’t your teen section have a display for GLBT History Month? Visit and use the resources of the amazing online GLBT History Month which, every year, features the biographies of 31 GLBTQ icons.  (this year some of the downloadable bio-sheets will include Maurice Sendak, Jane Lynch, and Jamie Nabozny, who spoke out against bullying when he was still a teen.)  You can feature books by LGBTQI authors and books with queer content.  If you’re worried about possible objection, you can start planning for next year now.  I wrote a more comprehensive guide for how to do this in the Summer 2009 YALS, but I will say that one of the most important elements is using what you have.  For instance, I used my library’s long range plan and mission statement in my proposal, something my administration was wild about and gave us real standing and justification if anyone in the community complained.  (and not only did no one complain, but the head of the adult services department was inspired and bought a bunch of new books and made a display in the adult section.) If you start the research and planning now, by next October you’ll have something amazing ready to go!
3. 3. Don’t tolerate hate speech in your library.  My library Code of Conduct forbids “obscene language” and I consider “that’s so gay!” and all derivatives to be just that; obscene.  You can’t control what teens will say out of your earshot, but you can monitor what they say around you and in public spaces where you can hear.    More than that, you can use it as a teachable moment, a chance to discuss why this language is unacceptable, hurtful, and, yes, obscene.
4. 4.  Related to that: make use of the tools and information provided by ThinkB4YouSpeak, a joint project between GLSEN and the Ad Council.  While the whole site is full of useful information, worth particular note is the Download & Share section, where you can find downloadable .PDFs that challenge teens casual use of slurs.  Think what great conversation starters and/or shows of support these would be if printed up as flyers or posters in your teen area!
5. 5. Buy those books!  Yes, here we are again, back at the what might be the simplest of steps.  Buy the books.  Get them on your shelves.  Have them available for teens who are browsing Amazon or your catalog or “heard about it from a kid at school.”  Buy the books that may get stolen off your shelves, that no one may ever ask you about but someone might find and be anchored by.  Read reviews, share good titles on lis-serves, on blogs, with colleagues.  Include LGBTQI titles on your “If You Like Sarah Dessen…” read-alike list, on your “Recommend Books for High School Students” list.  Booktalk one during a teen advisory meeting.  Familiarize yourself with YA authors who often write books with LGBTQI content and keep a watch for their new titles.  Contact publishers or stop by their booths at conferences to tell them we want more: more diversity, more titles, more age ranges, we want to buy more.  Buy the books, put ‘em on the shelves, put them out there as our way to change the conversation, as our way to show LGBTQI teens an accurate reflection of their world, a world where it can get better, a world where their lives and their stories matter and are told.

Now is the moment, as librarians and adovcates for teens, to do something for the teens that we serve, to do something that can matter in their lives.  Now is the moment that we can stand up for what’s right, when we can do something that could actually save lives. 

It does get better, but we can help make now better.

And we can be happy about it.

REJOICE, THE BLOG IS BACK FROM THE DEAD!!  (peeks around) I hope some people are actually still out there reading?  Hello?  Please forgive my absence, I hope some readers are still around!

ZOMG, has it really been over a month!?? I can’t believe it’s been this long between posts!  Getting back in the habit of regularly blogging has been harder than I expected!  (I kept a personal blog for years.) Part of me is still holding on to the idea that unless I have something really significant to say or to discuss in depth, I shouldn’t post.  I am working to overcome that though and trying to remember that saying something is the most important part!

Besides that, I was on blissful vacation from September 8th to September 21st, spending 11 glorious days in Toronto at the Toronto International Film Festival.  I saw 33 movies in 9 days and didn’t have a lot of energy or focus for blogging!

But! I’m going to make a post about some of the Canadian books I picked up and about the amazing promotional initiative Indigo, the Canadian version of Barnes & Noble/Borders, ran: The Teen Read Awards, where Canadian teenagers were invited to vote on their bookish favorites, like Best Hottie, Best All Time Favorite, and Best New Writer.  Just by voting, teenagers could win all sorts of prizes,  from movie tickets to eReaders and a trip to Toronto!  The voting promotion was everywhere in their bookstores and it all culminated in an awards ceremony/big party with live music, author appearances, and more prizes.  HOW AWESOME IS THIS?

In the meantime, this is something that has been in the back of my mind for a while . . .

Do you ever get not-at-work requests from your friends/family for reader’s advisory?  I get so many requests on Facebook from friends.  “I was wondering if you could make a list for me of books for my 12 year old niece/reluctant reader I tutor/9 year old niece/13 year old friend of my family who loves to read?”  I love these requests, of course, compiling these lists and is such a delight.

Of course, you start out any reader’s advisory by making sure you completely understand what the person wants.  As my newest round of this started, I asked my friend a question that I think should be standard in any reader’s advisory interview, particularly one where you can’t actually see the person you’re recommending books for.  The question?  “Should I be looking for books that feature characters of color?”

My friend’s delighted response?  “I hadn’t even considered that!  A Hispanic main character would be fantastic!” (my friend ended up buying Confetti Girl by Diana Lopez and Twelve by Lauren Myracle.  Do you know about the amazing Confetti Girl?  You should!)

I hadn’t even considered that!

But librarians have.  (Librarians should.)

Shortly after that, a teacher came into the library and asked me for books about Native Americans to read to her 3rd grade class.  “I’ve done the same books over and over,” she said wearily “can you recommend something new?”

Looking at Cynthia Leitich Smith’s Jingle Dancer (illustrations by Cornelius Van Wright and Ying-Hwa Hu) and Joe Medicine Crow’s Brave Wolf and the Thunderbird (illustrations by Linda Martin) I could see her eyes light up.  “These are … different.” She said.

I had the chance to explain why it’s important to use books created by Native authors and illustrators and why they’re so different from the same books she’s always used.  She nodded the whole time, as if I was telling her something both new and that sounded familiar and right to her.  When she was checking the books out she told me, smiling, “I knew coming to ask you was the right idea!”

At the time, I just basked in the glow of a satisfying reference interview, that feeling you get when you know you’ve answered a patron’s question in the exact right way.  Later, though, I had time to consider the impact of these recommendations.  It started when I tweeted Cynthia Leitich Smith (you should follow her on Twitter already!) about this interaction.  She thanked me for recommending Jingle Dancer and then said “Expertise in an area like Native American #kidlit is yet another reason why librarians are so necessary to schools/communities!” which sent a thousand thoughts clicking in my brain.

Expertise.  I guess I wouldn’t have used that word, maybe not right away, but there it was and it suddenly made so much sense.

I started to think about all the students who would now be exposed to these titles through this teacher, the students who had maybe never heard a Native voice in their classrooms before.  I thought, too, of my friend buying a book for a young girl who would now see Spanish words, a culture of her own, reflected back in a book.

It’s our jobs to consider this, it’s our job to think about this impact.

It’s our job to be experts.

Or to at least try as hard as we fucking can.

To work at it, to be diligent about it, to consider it, to know that it matters.  It’s important to know books that feature characters of color, to think about the audiences that will read the books we recommend, to make sure our collections, services, and knowledge base are diverse wide-ranging and that we, as professionals, are prepared to use all of this to fulfill those oldest of library science laws: every reader his or her book and every book its reader.

None of this is lip service, because all of this matters.  We matter.