I like to read. I am in a book club. One of my favorite things to do when given free time, is to read. But when I scroll my kindle screen or cast my eyes at the books piled by my bed or on the actual bookshelf, they echo the Amazon best seller list or Goodread’s best books list. There is nothing wrong with that. But I am reading the same books as millions of other people. What about the books millions are not reading. What about the books, equally compelling, but not on some list. So, I went searching.

 

For the last year or so, I have intentionally been trying to diversify my bookshelf. It started with choosing and reading books written by POC and women, and pitching those when it was my turn to select books for my book club. It then expanded to reading genres that I don’t always read. It has taken me so many wonderful places, seeing things I would not have seen.

 

I read many YA (young adult) books by authors of color that were so good. Darius the Great is not Okay, about a young Iranian-American kid challenged by depression and being different. I loved I am not your Perfect Mexican Daughter, another coming of age story of a girl in Chicago who struggles with the loss of her sister and dreaming of college. The Love and Lies of Rukshana Ali explored what it means to be gay, Muslim and a teenager today in America. Those were just a few of the books that I read when I went looking for books in genres and authors of color that I would not normally stumble across. I am so glad I went looking.

 

Beverly Cleary died the other day. I read and liked her books. But I did not see myself reflected back in them. I now know there is a term for that, ‘windows and mirrors’. Windows show us something different than us, mirrors reflect back a lived experience similar to ours. Growing up, most of the books I read were windows. It was not till college that I read Sandra Cisneros, and saw someone like me reflected back. Now there are so many books for kids, that reflect back and celebrate the diversity that is America and the world. I feel happy for today’s youth.

 

When I was a kid, the dolls were all white. Most had blond hair, like Barbie and some had brown hair. But they were white. More windows. I did have a Marie Osmond doll as a kid, that at least had dark brown, bordering on black hair. That was as close as my parents could find to a doll that looked like me, a Latina. So one year my mom made me a doll She called it the Crisy doll, named after me, mu childhood nickname. It was brown with black hair, like me. I liked it, but I also lived with my stepmother, a white woman and for many complicated reasons, I did not feel like I could hold and love the doll freely. So she lived under my bed. I would pull it out at night to snuggle and then put it back under the bed at night, afraid to be caught sleeping and loving it. A complicated mirror.

 

Recently, I have been reading mystery books, a genre I am always exploring. I used to love reading the #1 Ladies Detective Agency books. I still do. I loved the mini-series starring Jill Scott on HBO, but part of me felt weird, guilty, unsettled that I loved these books about a black African woman written by a white British author. I know it is the job of a writer to imagine and create characters and worlds beyond their own. I get that and yet I wanted to read those same books, written by people with lived experiences in what they wrote about.  It took some sleuthing, but I found a good book called Bluebird, Bluebird about a black Texas Ranger solving a crime, that involves race and justice in the South. When I finished that book last week, I headed back to my local bookstore that has only SciFi, Fantasy and Mystery. I still am really not a fan of the first two genres, but giving it a try as they are my son and husband’s favorite genres. It took even more sleuthing than the first time to find a new mystery book by a POC author, but I found a book called Reckless about an orphanage and a murder in Georgia. I glanced at the author photo, and though she looked familiar I did not recognize the name, Selena Montgomery. At the counter, the clerk smiled and said, “So you discovered her second talent,”. He pointed to the author picture and said. “Stacey Abrams.” Yes. That is who it was. Wow! Talented politician and mystery writer. I am so glad I have gone down this meandering trail of discovering new authors of color. Where will it lead me next? What new window will I look through? What story will reflect back to me in a mirror?