Moving Forward

(art featured here created by my mentee)

I'm not going to talk about the disaster that is the American Dirt fiasco. So many other better-qualified people have already written poignant, heavily examined, and brutally honest pieces on the book, it's marketing, and the impact it has on the publishing community. Instead, I want to focus on the more positive movements and actions that have been taken to uplift and support Latinx creators since this shit hit the fan.

The beautiful thing about book twitter is just how fast (and vast) recommendation lists for better reading pop up in light of these events. Especially bloggers and writers of marginalized backgrounds: they look the fuck OUT for each other. They will hoard new debut announcements like a dragon would a shiny copper penny; no matter how small the project may seem, chances are someone is ON IT and will NOT rest until everyone knows how glorious their new find is.

I've been bookmarking everyone's lists to browse through for my next library trip because good lord there is SO. MUCH. OUT. THERE. And so much more to come! Anyone who says that there aren't enough Latinx creators just hasn't found The Horde™ yet, and this is coming from a Latinx creator. The problem isn't a lack of voices, it's that the voices we seek are usually silenced under the blaring million-dollar marketing campaigns advertising for status quo works written by predominantly cishet white writers. 

And with these boosts in lists, allies in positions of power or influence are the most crucial in getting these postings seen. While marginalized people are putting in the blood, sweat, and tears to support and promote each other it means nothing if the Powers That Be™ continue to shut the doors on significant opportunities that would change representation in media. I've been lucky and privileged to have allies in my corner fighting for my right to create honest work that represents my experience, even when it's not tragic or palatable for the general white audience.

However, at the end of the day, I'm a relatively unknown freelance creator who lives in a small town that might as well be nowhere as far as Big Publishing is concerned. I don't have the financial powers to back every Latinx debut that crosses my feed. I don't have the time to read every blog or listen to every podcast when I'm struggling to pump out my own content. Big events and movements that bring awareness to the issues I care about don't happen near me. It feels disheartening knowing that no matter how much I try to support those in my community and fight for those causes, I'm ultimately powerless to the whims of those with bigger pockets and platforms.

But lately, I've been given the chance to do something. And while it seems small in the grand scheme of things, it's massive when looked at from the other side.

I've been mentoring my Dominican hairdresser's daughter, spending one day a week just drawing for an hour or two and teaching her what I can at a pace that works best for her. It's something that brings me immense joy and reminds me to stop being so precious with my work and to just...go wild. 

When I was her age, I was lucky enough to have parents who supported my love for drawing by constantly gifting me supplies and How-To-Draw-XYZ books when the things I wanted to create were out of their own realm of knowledge. Even just those small acts of encouragement meant everything to me and gave me the confidence to keep going long enough to turn it into a passionate profession.

My mentee's parents are incredibly kind, loving, and supportive but wished they had more time and experience to help foster her love for drawing the way they wanted to. So being able to give to their daughter what my own family and teachers had given to me is something I never thought I'd have the honor to do. And the best part is that as I'm working with her, her parents are right by our side watching and learning along. 

It's such a small moment, but it's these kinds of moments that have stayed with me through the hardest points in my life. I remember the innocence of my childhood, how free I felt expressing my wildest ideas, and the joy of getting to share it with the people I loved. So to be on the other side of the table, encouraging her to add more sashes and colors and crocs to her Highly Accomplished Dr.Princess like others had done with me, is overwhelming. Representation is more than just what we see on paper; sometimes it changes our entire view on life to see someone like ourself doing the things we only dreamed of. Even if she doesn't turn art into a career, I want her to know she can.

Despite how dystopian the world feels right now, I'm thankful for everything that has allowed me to get to this point. What happened with American Dirt isn't a new occurrence, and unfortunately, I doubt it'll be the last time a white voice is hailed as revolutionary while own-voice creators are silenced and hidden in the background. 

So we'll keep talking. We'll keep being loud. And we'll keep uplifting each other as the industry tries to push us down. Because we're here and we have our stories to tell, even if we're not given seven-figures to do so.