Mirrors and Windows: Lucille Clifton and African American Identity in Children’s Books

In March 2024, the Guest Editor of this Special Issue on African American Children’s Literature attended the first of its kind—a day-long symposium specifically devoted to African American children’s literature. The event, “African Americans and Children’s Literature: A Symposium and Exhibition”, included a range of diverse perspectives; among them were African American authors, bookstore owners and distributors, and illustrators. The following opening plenary address by Sidney Clifton further contextualizes historically and socially this historical event and this Special Issue.

• Short Biography of Author

Emmy-nominated producer Sidney Clifton has over twenty years of experience as an Executive Producer and Development Executive overseeing animated and mixed-media content, currently serving as Head of Animation at Mattel Television Studios. Prior to this role, Clifton served as a producer and Senior Vice President of Animation and Mixed Media at The Jim Henson Company. Prior to the Henson Company, she worked with Deluxe Animation Studios, Riot Games, Bento Box Entertainment, and Film Roman Animation.

Sidney Clifton’s productions include the Children and Family Emmy-nominated Slumberkins (2022) for The Jim Henson Company, where she also produced the animated Harriet the Spy (2021) series; Black Panther (2010) for Black Entertainment Television; Mosaic (2007) for POW! Entertainment; Hellboy: Sword of Storms (2006) and Hellboy: Blood and Iron (2007) for the Cartoon Network; Stan Lee’s The Condor (2007) for Anchor Bay Entertainment; Me, Eliose! (2006) for Starz Media; and The Happy Elf (2005) with Harry Connick, Jr. for HC Productions.

In her role as mentor to emerging writers and artists, Sidney Clifton has been a featured presenter, guest, and commencement speaker at colleges and universities across the USA. Her commitment to developing and supporting underserved communities of storytellers and creators was the catalyst that launched The Clifton House—a writers and artists workshop and retreat space at her childhood home in Baltimore, Maryland. Sidney Clifton is the daughter of US writer, poet, and educator Lucille Clifton (1936–2010).

Lucille Clifton attended Howard University in Washington, DC, and published eleven books of poetry and twenty children’s books. Publishing her first book of poetry Good Times in 1969, Lucille Clifton received both the Coretta Scott King Award for Everett Anderson’s Good-bye (1984) and the National Book Award for Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems, 1988–2000 (2001). In 2007, Clifton received the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize (2007) and served as Poet Laureate of Maryland (1979–1985).

• Sidney Clifton’s African American Children’s Book Authors Event Keynote Address delivered on 2 March 2024

(Keynote video recording here: https://tinyurl.com/m6vne48c)

I was honored when award-winning author Jonetta Rose Barras asked me to give the keynote at the inaugural African American Children’s Literature Symposium. The event, curated in partnership with humanities scholar Bernard Demczuk, PhD, was presented by Esther Productions Incorporated, The Black Student Fund, and The Institute for African American Writing. When asked, I accepted with no hesitation. Ms. Barras was a colleague of my mother’s, National Book Award winning poet and Coretta Scott King Award winning children’s book author Lucille Clifton.

As Lucille’s daughter and President of The Clifton House (www.thecliftonhose.org), I am committed to educating our communities about the triumphs and struggles of our artistic and literary icons. I have been a producer for twenty-plus years, working primarily in animation. My passion is to continue their creative legacy by elevating authentic Black voices always, in all ways. I am my mother’s daughter, and I represent her honesty, integrity, and creative courage.

About thirty years ago, my mother was giving a reading in New York City. A local elementary school asked if she would be willing to come for a visit and speak to the children, and she happily obliged.

As was her custom, after she spoke with students, she asked to visit the school’s library to check their selections, make recommendations, but mostly to see if they had any of her books. They did not.

She asked the librarian, “I notice you don’t have any books about Black children?”

The librarian replied “No, we don’t.”

“Why not?” Mom asked.

“We don’t have any Black children in this school,” the librarian responded.

“But you have books about bunnies…,” Mom continued.

Years earlier in 1970, Lucille Clifton had six children in elementary school; her four girls and two boys were active and curious and beautiful and unabashedly Black. In 1970, there was still unrest in our country; her husband—my father Fred Clifton—was active in the National Black Assembly, working toward racial justice and equity. And poet Lucille did what she was called to do for her Black sons and daughters: she writes children’s books that do not yet exist, celebrating their lives in all their rich and sometimes complicated glory.

As we are all aware, in the 1960s and 1970s [in the US] while we were still fighting for representation in media, the mainstream children’s literature industry did not pick up this fight. Books featuring Black protagonists written by Black authors published by mainstream publishers were all but nonexistent. Books featuring Black children often perpetuated stereotypes or portrayed limited narratives.

One exception is [white author] Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day (1962), a popular book that featured a Black main character. This book won the Caldecott Medal in 1963. Keats said that “All children should be able to see themselves in books they love”. I cannot comment on Keats’ motivation. Whether or not his intentions were genuine, and despite the popularity of the book, there was little immediate impact on the publishing of Black children’s books by Black authors.

Mainstream [i.e., white] editors and publishers lacked, and in many cases still lack, understanding and appreciation of or real care about the value of diverse perspectives. This is not news.

It is also not news that access to diverse literature is essential for Black children’s sense of self and also for promoting empathy, understanding, and cultural competence among all children. The lack of representation in and access to Black children’s books by Black authors limit opportunities for cross-cultural learning and contribute to a narrower worldview among young readers, creating narrow-minded, dangerous adults who perpetuate dangerous and divisive mindsets that still impact us today. Here is where our passionate independent writers, publishers, and booksellers have stepped in to bridge that gap. We are grateful for your sacred work.

As a poet and children’s book author, my mother described her job as providing mirrors and windows—mirrors reflecting our own lives and windows into the lives of others which can help us fully understand our kinship to the world at large.

This she did brilliantly, telling stories that reflected the varied experiences of undeniably Black people, moments large and small.

Mirrors and windows and strong leaders, entrepreneurs, and advocates.

Because of my mother’s success in poetry, her then agent Marilyn Marlowe at Curtis Brown, Ltd.—“one of the world’s leading literary agencies representing a wide variety of established and emerging authors of all genres since 1914”—who was a strong advocate for her clients, was able to set up her books with mainstream publishers, primarily Dutton, Holt, Rinehart and Winston and Henry Holt. Did having a white agent advocate who was once described as a “bulldog” help? Probably. But Mom’s work also stood on its own. Her stories exhibited a radical beauty that helped build the foundation on which the storytellers that followed could solidly stand.

A few of these stories, all beauties, large and small:

The Black BC’s (1970) takes the form of a poem for each letter of the alphabet as it celebrates the contributions and US history of African Americans past and present.

Don’t You Remember? (1973) is about a little Black girl who thinks everyone makes promises to her that only she remembers.

The Boy Who Didn’t Believe in Spring (1973) takes place in the middle of the city when eight-year-old friends King Shabazz and Tony Polito go in search of a season they have never seen before and find it in an unlikely place.

Good, Says Jerome (1973) is the story of nine-year-old Jerome who does not want to move, go to a new school, or leave his friends, but his older sister Janice Marie allays his fears.

My Brother Fine with Me (1975) is the story of Johnny’s little brother Baggy who decides to run away, and his big sister is okay with it. Maybe.

Amifika (1977) is the story of a little Black boy so afraid that his father won’t remember him after a stint in the army that little Amifika looks for a place to hide before his father comes home.

And the beloved, 1970s award-winning Everett Anderson Series books, written in verse:

• Some of the Days of Everett Anderson (1970) describes the typical days in six-year-old Everett’s week.
• Everett Anderson’s Christmas Coming (1974)
• Everett Anderson’s Year (1974)
• Everett Anderson’s Friend (1976)
• Everett Anderson’s 1,2,3 (1977)
• Everett Anderson’s Goodbye (1983)
• Everett Anderson’s Nine Month Long (1987)
• One of the Problems of Everett Anderson (2001)

As an example of continuing the legacy of Black children’s literature and storytelling, I am currently working with brilliant writer and three-time Emmy nominee Keion Jackson to develop the Everett Anderson books into an animated series for young children. This series celebrates Black boy joy with a beautiful six-year-old who lives in the projects with his loving mama. There is joy, even to quote my mother’s poem, “in the inner city, or like we call it, home.”

Lucille Clifton’s cultural authenticity was not without controversy, however, even within Black communities. When her book All Us Come Cross the Water (1973), illustrated by the extraordinary artist John Steptoe, was published by Henry Holt, critics bristled at the concept of her using colloquial Black spoken language in children’s literature. She even got a letter from an elementary school teacher stating that she would share the book with her students, but when reading aloud to them, she would change the title to “All of Us Have Come Cross the Water”. Mom did not respond to that letter. I am grateful that my mother’s cultural integrity and creative courage would not allow her to submit to the fears of her critics. In her life and poems and her children’s books, Lucille Clifton was honest, audacious, funny, nurturing, and courageous. That is what it takes for storytellers. Being mirrors and windows takes courage, passion, and persistence.

Consider All Us Come Cross the Water

Our lives. Our voices. Specificity. In 1973, writing a children’s book referencing being “born with a veil over her face”, talking to Big Mama, the neighborhood Panther’s Bookstore, a man with wine in a paper cup was revolutionary.

My deepest gratitude to the participants in this groundbreaking inaugural African American Children’s Literature symposium; to the passionate, talented writers, illustrators, entrepreneurs, booksellers, and independent publishers who have taken up the call to action for our Black children’s sake, showing them that there is a future and all of them are in it.

And finally, to one of my Black author inspirations and Sheroes, Ms. Sharon Bell Mathis.

Ms. Sharon’s book Listen for the Fig Tree (1974) was one of my all-time favorite books as a young Black girl, and I believe it played a large part in my path toward producing. She may not remember this, but after I read the book, I sent her a letter for casting suggestions when it became a movie because I was SURE that was going to happen.

Today, as then, I am grateful for the stories and am honored to be in the company of “Mirrors and Windows. Creative Courage. Passion and Persistence”. Pass it on.

Thank you.