I AM EVERY GOOD THING

(Nancy Paulsen Books, 2020)

 

Written by Derrick D. Barnes

 

Illustrated by Gordon C. James

 

Goosebumps. A laugh. A smile, followed by repeated nodding. Several moans, the equivalent to saying, “Amen.”

 

That’s a summary of my visceral response to a read-through of I Am Every Good Thing. It’s truly a good thing. It’s a book every Black boy needs to experience, time and again. If it made me feel affirmed, if it reminded me of The Cup Half Full, I can only imagine the power it has on Black boys and Black men. 

 

I came upon this book after reading a CNN news story last week about an Alabama school district rescinding its invitation for author Derrick Barnes to visit three of its schools due to “contract issues and a parent’s ‘concern’ regarding Barnes’ social media posts.” A close read seems to indicate that the “contract issues” are a red herring, part payment already having been made for the author’s appearances. This is what a district PR machine must add on to distract from censorship and the anti-woke version of cancel culture. 

 

More on the controversy, below, but first let me highlight the content of this extraordinary book which exudes empowerment. The book opens with a Black boy of four or five, flying through the air in red Converse shoes and a richly colored cap, his smile bright, his eyes looking back as a child so often does in a “Watch me, Daddy” moment. It’s the first of an entire gallery of gorgeous oil-painted illustrations by Gordon C. James. The text:

I am

A nonstop ball of energy. 

Powerful and full of light.

I am a go-getter. A difference maker.

A leader.

 

Yes! Everything is affirming, a variation on the title, I am every good thing. This is what we want children to believe about themselves.

 

The book proceeds to show Black boys of various ages playing in the snow, looking through a microscope, splashing about in mask and snorkel, listening intently to something on headphones, standing in the forest. There’s a two-page spread of a Black boy skateboarding and I couldn’t help but think of Tyre Nichols. 

 

There’s a page of amusing, cocky bravado, the text reading:

I am a grand slam, 

bases fully loaded.

I’m a nasty two-handed dunk,

holding on to the rim,

just to remind you that

I’m still the man.

Believe that.

The illustration shows a laughing boy being raised to the basketball net by an equally gleeful father figure. 

 

Every page has nuggets of text that oozing pride and personality. Lines like, “I am a sponge, soaking up information, knowledge, and wisdom. I want it all, and I am alllllll ears” are destined to makes readers, young and old, grin. This is as delicious as anyone’s favorite home-cooked meal.

 

Barnes understands the weight on Black male shoulders and doesn’t shy away from more serious messaging as in the following text:

Although I am something like a superhero,

every now and then, 

I am afraid.

 

I am not what they might call me, 

and I will not answer to any name

that is not my own.

I am what I say I am.  

 

I could go on. This is the kind of book where I want to highlight every passage. (I ADORE the page that references paper airplanes!)

 

Photo on Barnes' Instagram,
November 8, 2022

So what caused a single parent’s concern, leading to the cancelation of the author visit? The vague “social media” issue is problematic. What does the writer take from this? What do students, staff and parents in the district take from it? Free speech is of great value but, given that Barnes was presumably visiting elementary schools, not all speech is suited to a setting with younger learners. It’s possible there were things to consider, but nothing specific has been raised. It feels like Barnes and his work have been tainted by an unspecified social media post or posts. That’s deeply concerning to me. 

 

As a former school principal, I listened to many parents express concerns over curriculum, presentations, teaching styles, disciplinary decisions, food served at events and student interactions off school grounds beyond school hours. Parents have a strong, valid interest in their child(ren)’s learning. Sometimes a discussion helps find common ground. Rarely do things end with agreeing to disagree. On a few occasions, however, I have honored a parent’s request for their child to opt out of a lesson or school event. It would take some extremely troubling social media posts to all-out cancel a speaker. What did Barnes do?

 

I searched Twitter, where people tend to rant, and it appears Derrick Barnes does not have an account. I found his author website and his only social media presence appears to be on Instagram (@authorderrickdbarnes) so I scrolled through his 120 posts from the past twelve months. (Is a third grader going to scroll beyond that? What would motivate a parent to search further?) Zero concerns. 

 

Most posts promoted his books. There were several touching posts about his love for his family and how proud he is of how his sons are growing up. His posts are written with the same positivity as Every Good Thing. There’s a post from May 12, 2022, celebrating his twenty-first anniversary. The words written about his marriage and his wife are beautiful. May we all feel this way in long-term relationships! There’s an October 24^th post about his weekly practice of leaving voice messages to each of his four sons to fill them up with positivity and a genuine belief in them. Amazing! If anything, I was tempted to follow him, something I don’t do much of when it comes to people I don’t know personally.

 

I’m going to take a darker view of things and, yes, consider the author’s cancelation as being based in racism, however it may otherwise be cloaked. This kind of conjectur
e is what comes up when a school district fails to adequately explain its actions. Barnes’ books and characters focus on Black people. He’s Black; he’s writing what he knows. The district he was supposed to visit is in Hoover, Alabama, a rapidly growing suburb of Birmingham. According to Wikipedia and the 2020 Census, 92,000 live in Hoover—68% white, 17% Black. Birmingham, a city with declining population, has 201,000 residents—23% white, 68% Black. As in so many places in America, the races remain geographically divided due to a multitude of reasons but, for many, choice is a factor. Hoover is “comfortably” white and a scheduled visit by a Black author may have been uncomfortable, at least to one parent. 

 

While the CNN article stated that, according to the school superintendent, there was no concern about the content of Barnes’ books, I can’t help but wonder if his highly acclaimed graphic novel, Victory. Stand! Raising My Fist for Justice ruffled someone’s feathers as it centers on American athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos’ Black Power protest at the medal ceremony at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City. It was a controversial action from more than fifty-four years ago, a significant moment in the tumultuous civil rights consciousness of the ’60s. Maybe a single parent wants to believe civil rights issues are a thing of the past. Maybe this parent felt emboldened by some state governments wanting to censor, edit or whitewash Black history. 

 

Speculation, of course. Nothing else to go on. 

 

The truly unfortunate result is that several classes of young learners were denied the opportunity to have an author visit. They didn’t get to hear Derrick Barnes read one of his picture books like I Am Every Good Thing, The King of Kindergarten or Crown: An Ode to the Fresh Cut.

 

Speaking of school visits, Barnes says in the CNN article, “You see in their [Black children’s] eyes how much it means to them. When they meet me, a Black man, an author, and see I’m not an entertainer, an athlete, or a rapper. They see what else they can be besides the stereotypes that are starting to seep into their psyche.” Barnes also noted the importance of his visits and books to non-Black students: 

It’s even more important for White children to see Black, 

Brown, Asian, Muslim characters. If they don’t see those 

kids in their immediate environments, these books serve 

to counter stereotypes they’re taught. They get to learn 

about different cultures while also seeing the similarities, 

how we live, how we dream, the things we all fear, the 

things that bring us joy. But they won’t realize this if 

they only see themselves.

 

I can only hope the publicity from the cancelation of the school visits will lead more readers, young and old, Black and non-Black, to the books of Derrick Barnes.  

 

 

 

  

SHADES OF BLACK: A Celebration of Our Children

Written by Sandra L. Pinkney

Photography by Myles C. Pinkney 

(Scholastic, 2000) 

 

After George Floyd’s death on May 25th of this year, there was a resurgence in the Black Lives Matter movement and a sense that America and the world had reached a pivotal point. No longer was it enough to sing about a better future somewhere down the line as in “A Change Is Gonna Come”—a song that was first recorded fifty-six years ago, after all. The time for real change seemed to have finally arrived. World leaders and corporate CEOs were acknowledging “systemic racism” and people who chose to peacefully protest reflected a greater diversity. In the publishing world, some magazines saw changes in editorial boards, recognizing that their composition still looked glaringly White. Books like Caste by Isabel Wilkerson and White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo lingered on the bestseller charts and it seemed like every agent was seeking #ownvoices books with BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and People of Color) characters. Long time coming. 

Thankfully, the book world had its share of powerful Black writers prior to 2020. Alice Walker. Maya Angelou. Toni Morrison. Langston Hughes. Alex Haley. Zadie Smith. James Baldwin. Roxanne Gay. Terry McMillan. August Wilson. Some of my favorite creators of children’s books include Jacqueline Woodson, Walter Dean Myers, Zetta Elliott, Jason Reynolds and illustrator E.B. Lewis. 

 Still, I’ve often heard people of color talk about how hard it was to find books with characters they could physically identify with when they were growing up. When my local library finally reopened, the first books I checked out were Marita Golden’s Don’t Play in the Sun: One Woman’s Journey through the Color Complex (Doubleday, 2004) and Shades of Black by the husband and wife team of Sandra and Myles Pinkney. I was surprised and heartened to see that Shades of Black is twenty years old. 

Through words and photos, the Pinkneys celebrate the different hues and textures of the skin, hair and eyes of Black children, with each of the three sections beginning with the affirming statement: 

          I am Black 

               I am Unique 

Skin color is compared to different foods, with text such as “I am the midnight blue in a licorice stick” or “I am the radiant brassy yellow in popcorn.” Each accompanying photo depicts a child interacting with the food item that resembles the child’s skin tone, be it the “velvety orange in a peach” or the “gingery brown in a cookie.” 

 The section on hair texture and style compares hair to natural fibers like “stiff ringlets in lambs wool” and “the twisted corkscrew in a rope.” Again, a child with the referenced type of hair is photographed with the natural item. It ends with the proud declaration, “All of my hair is good.” 

Eyes are compared to colorful stones and a Black child appears in each photo to show the similarity of his or her eyes with shiny pieces of unakite, onyx and tiger’s eye. (I learned a few new terms myself!) 

The book ends with the following passage: 

          I am Black 

               I am Unique 

          I come from ancient Kings and Queens. 

          When you look at me, what do you see? 

               I am Black 

          I am proud of me 

Pride and joy arise from the text but are further emboldened in the striking photos of happy, confident Black children. This is a book I can see parents and teachers reading to children over and over again, instilling a positive regard not just as to a child’s own particular skin, hair and eye color, but in the broad range of hair types and skin and eye colors in the Black race. It also can serve to help non-Black children see and celebrate the broad range of appearance in any race. 

Photos of people can often look dated, but Myles Pinkney’s portraits look as current and relatable today as they would have two decades ago. 

A quick internet search shows that the book remains available for purchase on sites like Scholastic, Amazon, Chapters, and Barnes and Noble. You can also fine a read-aloud of the book on YouTube.