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Mental Health in YA Lit and Serving Teen Readers

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At the YALSA Young Adult Services Symposium in Memphis this last weekend, I had the honor of moderating a panel of contributors to my anthology (Don’t) Call Me Crazy. Our goal was to highlight some of the best when it comes to mental health and illness in YA lit, as well as how to be an effective advocate when it comes to working with teens and these topics. To take this beyond that panel, I wanted to pull together a resource guide to mental health in YA books, as well as some of the key highlights of our discussion. The below book lists are those with titles vetted by the panelists, including myself, Hannah Bae, Christine Heppermann, S. Jae Jones, and Shaun David Hutchinson.

Mental health in YA lit and serving teen readers. A resource guide for teachers, librarians, and other teen advocates. ya books | ya lit | mental health | ya mental health books | mental illness | mental illness and teens

Great YA Books About Mental Health: Titles and Resources

  • Over on School Library Journal, a guide to nuanced and thoughtful approaches to mental health in YA lit. I put together this piece as a tool for helping find high quality, inclusive, and intersectional mental health experiences.

 

  • In honor of World Mental Health Day in 2018, (Don’t) Call Me Crazy contributors talked about the most important mental health books they’ve read, along with what they’ve written about the subject.

 

 

 

  • This is a reality so many teens experience, but it’s not explored quite as much as it should be. But here’s a start! YA books about social anxiety.

 

  • I find reading to be a challenge sometimes, when I’m dealing with anxiety and depression. I pulled together some of the tips and tricks that have helped me while reading with mental health challenges.

 

Mental Health, Mental Illness, and Teen Readers: Topics Worth Discussing

Whether or not you heard the panel discussion, there are a number of things we discussed that are worth thinking about or discussing within your own libraries. Here are some vital mental health related topics to consider:

  • Why is it vulnerable to discuss mental health? Whether or not you experience mental illness, mental health is in and of itself still often taboo. What holds you back from discussing it and how does it make you feel when you do? If you’ve been at the receiving end of someone discussing their mental health — particularly teens — how does it make you feel? Why? In what ways do you navigate those conversations?

 

  • What makes for a “good” depiction of mental illness in YA? I wrote a bit about the idea of “getting it right” over on To Write Love On Her Arms that’s worth thinking about, since there’s a lot to chew on when it comes to the idea of a “right” depiction of mental illness. 

 

  • #OwnVoices stories– books about a particular experience or background written by an author who shares it — are especially powerful when it comes to mental illness stories and this is particularly true when it comes to intersectional explorations of mental illness. When it comes to talking about mental illness, though, it can be tricky to know whether or not a book is #OwnVoices if the writer doesn’t disclose that in the book itself or openly on the website/social media. How can you as a librarian take this into consideration in your collection development decisions? What about in your reader’s advisory decisions? How and where might it be appropriate to connect teen readers with authors who are open about their mental health?

 

  • Are there YA books or depictions of mental illness in the pop culture that teens consume that are actively harmful? What makes them so? 

 

  • While we’ve certainly seen an increase in mental illness representation in YA, we can all agree there are holes. What’s lacking? What do you hope to see more of as more writers share stories that explore mental health? What are you seeing with teens that deserves more representation in the books written with them in mind? 

 

  • How can librarians use books that explore mental health with teens? What are some resources beyond the books for librarians to know in order to be the best advocates for their teens possible? Kelly talked on panel about developing a book display with compassion and care after a teen suicide rocked her community, written about here, as well as about her experience being part of Port Washington, Wisconsin’s project to have a community read of (Don’t) Call Me Crazy, 

 

 

Integrity, Climate Change, Social Justice, and Other Necessary Facts: A Reading List

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Something I’ve been wanting to do more of is round-up links of interest for older posts we’ve written here at Stacked, as well as older posts you might be interested that Kimberly and I have written elsewhere. Being that we’re on year eight at STACKED, there are so many things we’ve touched upon and dug into, and much of it is perennially interesting.

In the spirit of a US administration bent on the idea of “alternative facts,” denial of climate change, the closing of the investigation into the Flint Water Crisis, and bills meant to restrict access to affordable health care, reproductive choice, and more, it’s hard to want to keep on fighting. It feels like every day is a set of new laws, new proposals, and new stories.

The one place that has been a light — teenagers.

 

A Resource Guide To

 

We’re all aware that Teen Vogue is one of the best journalism sources out there right now, and that’s because they know their audience is smart, savvy, social justice minded teenagers. Teens have been at the forefront of leading marches and protests, and it’s teens who we keep seeing show up again and again to do the work.

I keep trying to find a way to build a booklist that adequately captures what it is teens are thinking and doing, and I realized that we’ve covered so many of these topics here on STACKED That it made a lot more sense to do a big round-up. So here, find yourself big book lists of YA reads covering topics of reproductive rights, social justice, climate change, doing what’s right, truth telling, journalism, and more.

Because the kids? They’re all right. Even in fiction.

And it might be that fiction is where we find the answers that allow us to fight on another day.

Please note: when we changed blog hosting services last summer, some of our older posts got a little weird in their formatting. We’re working on updating those where possible. They’re entirely readable and usable; just sometimes, the images look funny or uneven. Also note that this isn’t comprehensive.

 

 

On Science and Climate Change 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Women’s Rights and Feminism

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Journalism, Censorship, and Integrity

 

 

 

  • A guide to talking about tough books with teens. While this focuses on books relating to sexuality, violence, drugs, and more, the same principles are applicable to talking about the current media and political climate (and women’s/queer rights). This might be a post we revisit, with a focus specifically on those arenas.

 

 

 

On Inclusivity/Race & Diversity 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Inclusivity/Queer & LGBTQ Rights and Issues

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • On micraggressions and queer phobia in the public library.

 

 

Disability

 

 

 

Socioeconomic Class 

 

 

Committing to Diversity When You’re White: A Primer

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I used to read pretty white. And honestly, despite paying a lot of attention to what I’m reading, I still read a lot of white people. My goal is roughly 1/3 of my books being written by people of color this year, and though I think I am on target — half of the books I read in July were by authors of color — I know 1/3 is still a small target.

Making a commitment to diversity as a white person is hard, but it’s essential. For people like me who are gatekeepers in some capacity, it’s vital to be aware of the entirety of the world around you, not just your immediate space.

 

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Intersectionality is essential. I’m privileged, and I have no problem saying as much. I’m white, able bodied, cis gendered, and present heterosexual. I fall on the lower end of middle class, but I can pay all my bills and afford the small things I want in life without worrying how dinner will get on the table. While I’ve got mental illness to contend with, I’m able to afford medical care and treatment to make them manageable. The biggest roadblock for me anywhere is that I’m female and that I’m fat (a social disadvantage that yes, indeed, has ramifications, but it’s not insurmountable). I take it as my responsibility, then, with this level of privilege to make sure I shut up and listen to those dealing with any disadvantages I don’t have. Black women are faced with racism and sexism, and if they’re queer, that’s a third intersection of disadvantage they contend with. It’s not feminism or being an ally to only consider one of those aspects as societal disadvantage. The challenges are amplified through those intersections.

I’m not an expert by any means, and there are plenty of people who have written about this, but because race and consciousness of race have been on my mind lately, I thought it would be worthwhile to write a quick and dirty primer to better committing to a mindset that thinks about, embraces, and promotes diverse voices, creators, and writing. Many of these ideas can be applied across topics, too; that is, if you want to be a better reader or ally to the LGBTQIA community, many of these should be applicable, as well.

1. Set Reading Challenges

I’m 100% conscious of who and what I am reading. At first, this was tough. I was used to picking up whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. But when I became conscious of who I was reading, things began to change. It wasn’t that I had to sit and research the background of the author of any book I considered reading. Rather, as I began reading more diversely, I naturally gravitated toward more diverse reading.

At some point, this clicks.

One easy way to better diversify your reading is to set a challenge for yourself. My goal is 1/3 of my books being written by people of color. It might sound daunting to do the math here, but it’s not: that’s one out of every three books. And when you start noticing that every third book you read is written by an author of color, you begin to just pick up books by authors of color when you’re doing your book shopping or borrowing from the library.

This is, of course, challenging when you’re faced with the realities of a world where authors of color aren’t as prominent or advertised or marketed the way white (especially male) authors are. In those cases, go to those authors of color you know and read through their backlist. Jacqueline Woodson, for example, has a marvelous backlist. Same with Walter Dean Myers.

Likewise, really pay attention to debut authors. When debut groups begin popping up for each new year in YA, I look through the author lists and pay special attention to those who identify as authors of color. I give those books priority because I know how many challenges are already present, on top of being a debut.

Here is the thing with this, though: you can’t pride yourself on being open and aware of who you’re reading. It cannot be your selling point and it certainly doesn’t make you an expert when you’re white. Rather, you need to do this because you need to do this. I read diversely because it’s my responsibility to do so; setting up parameters is how I keep myself in check. No one is holding me accountable here except myself, and I’m not going to ever expect another person to pat me on the back nor congratulate me for doing what I am responsible for doing.

2. Diversify the voices in your every day life

If you’re on social media, look at who it is you’re following. Do all of the people look the same? Sound the same?

Are they all white?

I follow a broad spectrum of people in my social media life. I don’t keep the same people on all social media accounts, either — I follow some people in one place, some in another, and yet more in other places. This makes sense for me and how I work with and within social media.

I don’t interact with all of the people I follow, in part because my responsibility as a white person in most cases is to shut up and listen. With racial tensions high in this country, I want to know what it is people who aren’t white have to say about it. I want to listen, rather than talk, because I have been granted so much permission to talk throughout my life. The history I learned in school — while progressive, especially in college — still was written from the perspective of white people doing the right things for and by the minds of white people. Black history was a subset of a history class once in a while, or it was an elective you could take. I remember zero classes on Latino/a history, Japanese history, Indian history, or the role of Native Americans through the course of American history. Women’s history lessons were very white, as well, even when relegated to elective, once-in-a-while when-we-have-time sessions.

I’ve heard enough of that. It’s my responsibility as an adult to educate myself, and in doing so, I sit back and listen. If I have a question from something that a person of color says, then it’s also my responsibility to do research about it.

No one is responsible for my education but me.

What’s amazing is that when you begin listening to more diverse voices through the course of your every day life, the more you also gravitate towards reading more diversely because you want to and need to better educate yourself.

3. Amplify diverse voices and perspectives

Something I am conscious of, and I know that Kimberly here is, too, is that when we write a book list or create a genre guide, we do our research before reinventing the wheel. There are so many people writing incredible blog posts and creating great resources for readers that we’d be dumb not to take advantage of that work and share it with our readers. I try to do the same thing on Book Riot, especially when I write about diverse issues.

One of the most annoying things for me to see is when a white person, especially someone with a large platform, misses an opportunity to amplify diverse voices when being asked for recommendations for reading. Is it that hard to find a person of color who has written a killer book list on diverse urban fantasy? Nope. Is it hard to find a person of color who has developed a list of comics creators of color? Nope. What about lists of diverse YA books created by authors of color? Also nope.

The reason this matters is because no matter what you’re doing, you’re probably not the first to do it. And more, it was probably — and continues to be done — by someone of color first. Don’t shout over them. Instead, give their voices the opportunity to be heard before sharing yours.

The more resources that other people have at their finger tips, the more exposure artists and authors of color are able to get that they might not otherwise get. It’s simple. Blog readers don’t read everything on the internet, so for bloggers especially, taking the ten minutes to do research before diving into a post can be hugely beneficial to those voices that you take the time to link to. They are given new audiences, and then those new readers have a new go-to resource to help better educate themselves, to help hear more diverse voices, and in turn, read more diversely.

4. Put your money where your mouth is

I do not buy books by white men.

I read them, absolutely, but I make a point to only check them out from the library, rather than plunk down $20 or $30 for one of their books.

Instead, when I go out to buy books, I make sure I am only buying the work of people of color or women. This is because that $20 or $30 makes a much larger difference to their career than it does to the career of a white man, already benefitting from a system where he’s a winner.

And here’s the best part: I have yet to be disappointed in this shopping experience. It forces me to look harder, to browse more deeply, and to pick up books that may otherwise fall outside my comfort zone.

We all know, or at least should know, that what’s available in the chain bookstores is hardly representative of what’s actually being published. The most diverse section in the YA area is, without much question, the non-fiction area — which is also the most undermarketed, under seen, section of the store.

So sometimes, what putting your money where your mouth is means walking out of a bookstore without buying a book and instead, going home, doing some research, and buying the book online. I keep a running list of titles that catch my attention; when I can’t find something in store, I’ll pick up one of those titles online later.

Like the other tips on this list, this particular one makes a huge impact. It might not seem like buying one book by an author of color matters, but that’s one sale not otherwise had, and it’s a book that then gets put into your reading rotation, which then becomes a book you talk about, which then amplifies a voice which otherwise might not be heard, which then encourages more people to pick up the book.

It does matter.

5. Be prepared to be wrong — and be okay with that

The biggest, most important, and yet hardest commitment to make when you choose to be a better ally is that you’re going to be wrong and you’re going to be called out for it. It absolutely hurts. But being told you’ve misstepped in something you’ve said or shared or that you could do better is absolutely nothing in comparison to being told your life is wrong or has less value than a white person’s.

A few years ago, an author of color contacted me privately about a review I wrote that hurt her. I didn’t say anything offensive, but I conflated discrimination against fat people with racism. Both are types of discrimination, but she noted in conflating the two, I didn’t take into account the long-standing history of racism.

And you know, she was right.

That was not my intention in the review, but when I went back with her concerns in my mind, I 100% saw what she saw, and I realized it mattered to do right. I apologized profusely, I listened to her criticism, and then I committed to do better. She in no way owed me the head’s up, and she in no way owed me a kind private email about it. But she did those things.

I’m often wrong on a lot of things. But I am comfortable enough with that. I’d rather try and screw up than not try at all. This has made me many enemies over the course of my life, but I believe in my convictions strongly enough that I know those who choose to walk away weren’t really there with me from the beginning anyway.

6. Read non-fiction, essays, and other personal works by people of color

This is a bit repetitive of numbers 1 through 3, but it’s important enough to pull out on its own. We’re in an amazing age of communication and sharing, especially when it comes to long form essays and personal anecdotes on the internet.

The number of people of color who are given platforms remains small, especially compared to white people and white men especially, but those voices? Listen to them. Read them. Share them. Engage with them thoughtfully and purposefully. Sometimes the best course of action is to share them and offer none of your own insight or reaction out loud. Rather, the important take aways are the internal ones that you and you alone wrestle with.

If you don’t know where to start — and this can be hard because knowing where to begin is intimidating when you’ve never purposefully set out to change your reading and thinking habits as an adult — some suggestions include The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander, Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coats, Citizen by Claudia Rankine, and Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay. Once you read one of these books, finding more isn’t difficult and it becomes almost imperative. Because these are the stories we don’t hear on a daily basis, and they’re stories and insights we simply do not get in our white media.

Once you read more non-fiction, once you dedicate yourself to listening to these personal stories online and off, and once you begin investing time and money into diverse reading, you will change your life and you will change your approach to interacting with different people in your life. Writers don’t share their stories or perspectives just for fun. They do it because it is important and because if they don’t, no one will do it for them.

When you open yourself up to the possibility you are wrong, that you’re biased, or that you could do better, you will do better.

Likewise, when you open yourself up to those possibilities, you better believe the stories people of color tell you, you better believe their life experiences, and you’re better able to be an ally to them, rather than an ally for them.

Because here’s the thing: I am only responsible for the truths in my life, and the truths in my life are that I’m pretty privileged. And it’s by being privileged I could choose to ignore the truths of other people’s lives. But I can’t.

I believe everyone’s truth matters, and I want to better understand those truths.

Looking for more ways you can be a better advocate for diverse voices and stories? Here’s a round-up of other people talking about actionable and mental steps you can take. These are not posts on why, because there’s no reason to even ask the question. They’re posts on the how:

 

 

 

  • Malinda Lo’s look at perceptions of diversity in professional reviews should be required reading for anyone considering reviewing books, either professionally or as an amateur. I think about this series of posts every time I read a book that’s not about a white girl/boy.

 

 

 

 

Advocating for and writing about girls is a radical act

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I’ve been thinking about this tweet a lot the last couple of weeks.

 

After AO Scott wrote about the death of the patriarchy and the death of adulthood, peppered with some disdain for YA, it’s hard not to see that the act of writing about and caring about girls is anything less than survival writing.

 

It’s a radical act.

 

Scott and fellow “adulthood is dead” author Chris Beha believe that our media and culture aren’t encouraging people to behave in certain, pre-defined ways that signify adulthood. That people — “people” meaning anyone who isn’t a middle age, straight white male — keep seeking out entertainment and experiences that keep them in some state of arrested development. YA books, of course, are a medium undermining the patriarchy and delaying maturity.

 

Last week, news came out that two female librarians were being sued to the tune of over $1 million dollars for character defamation for speaking out about a male colleague who, over the course of many years of his career, caused discomfort among many females in the field. The lawsuit claims the women “have caused him to be regarded with feelings of hatred, contempt, ridicule, fear, dislike, approbrium or disesteem. The defendants’ statements are clearly defamatory and impossible to justify.”

 

Rabey and de jesus, the two female defendants in the case, spoke up where other women in the field have not. This act of speaking up is radical. They spoke up on behalf of other women who couldn’t find their voices to do that. Murphy’s lawsuit, as much as it claims to be about defamation of character, isn’t that.

 

It’s about power and putting fear into not just Rabey and de jesus, but it’s an act of creating enough fear that other women won’t speak out against him or others. It’s about keeping them quiet.

 

At the same time this lawsuit unfolds, YouTube personality Sam Pepper released a video featuring him pinching girls’ butts without their permission. After mass uproar within the community, the video came down, but in its wake, more women spoke up. Laci Green detailed Pepper’s creepy behavior, and as this things go, she received a series of messages from Pepper meant to put her right back in her place.

 

One reason that YA books bear the brunt of cultural criticism and become a popular whipping boy in mainstream media by people who couldn’t be bothered to read beyond the few books on the New York Times List or those books that became box office hits is that it’s a field that’s seen as a women’s field. Like librarianship, writing for teenagers is something that women do, something that the luxury of time and love of fantasy worlds — whether real fantasy or imagined fantasy is up for debate — afford them.

 

YA stories, at least the ones critics are familiar with, don’t leave room for boys and boyhood. They don’t wrestle with the big questions of life. They aren’t handbooks to adulthood or compasses for morality. They’re frivolous works so many adults gobble up by the armload because adults can no longer grapple with the Big Important Questions Of Life as found in tomes of literary excellence.

 

To bear witness to other adults enjoying the act of reading and finding stories that satiate them is to bear witness to the dumbing down of culture.

 

An email came through on a small, private listserv I’m a part of a couple of weeks ago from a librarian tasked with running a book club as an elective in her middle school. The students, 8th graders, are all girls, and the first title they picked was Speak. The librarian was told from above she needed to pick something less controversial, and when her students discussed other options, they picked Before I Fall. She knew that wasn’t going to fly with administration, either, so she came to the listserv asking what could be done.

 

It’s interesting that the books these 8th grade girls want to read in this private (and Catholic) school involve two huge issues: sexual assault and bullying. These are topics these girls are seeking out to talk about and because of administrative push back from the top, they’re not able to do so in a safe space, in the presence of a professional who knows how to handle conversations like this.

 

This is no fault of the librarian. It’s the fault of adults who are failing to have these conversations with teens. When our educational system is founded on teaching the classics and heralding the value of those Tomes of Literary Importance, readers who want more — who deserve more — have to go elsewhere.

 

Meanwhile, some readers are “so sick” of rape books in YA and it’s a topic that’s already been done.

 

What can we make of readers who are desperately seeking out these books in a culture that doesn’t want to talk about them or, worse, is “so sick” of talking about them and seeing them? What can we make of readers — girls — who are constantly reminded that their interests are either controversial or silly?

 

This isn’t the fault of educators; it’s a weakness in the system of belief that the road to successful adulthood is through the voice and experiences of the straight white male. It’s the fault of a society that values and encourages a certain prescribed path and any deviation from it is, in fact, a failure of the individual, rather than a failure of such a singular, privileged perspective.

 

Bucking that norm is an act of survival. Choosing to write and to talk out against those in power is an act of radicalism.

 

The reason we need another rape book, the reason we need to talk about books like Speak or Before I Fall or Pointe any other number of books tackling tough issues through the perspective of teen girls is because that’s where teen girls find their voices. That’s where they’re able to see both the mirrors of who they are, as well as the windows into the worlds of those who look like them and those who don’t look like them.

 

Earlier this month, nude photos of many well-known Hollywood women were stolen and put onto the internet for public consumption. This was no leak; this was theft. The purpose of this theft was to prove power — the power that our world has over women, the reminder that no matter how successful, how admired, how talented you are, there’s always a way the world can bring you down. That if you’re a woman, you’re part of a man’s world, no matter how much of a stake you put into the ground, no matter how much you make your own.

 

And this week, just months after a vile, repugnant rant against successful women in the book world, Ed Champion harassed another female author, threatening to release the name of the person who had nude photos of her. And he did, before his Twitter account was suspended.

 

There’s no dead patriarchy in these acts. If anything were true about either Scott or Beha’s essays to be pulled in here, perhaps it’s about what adulthood looks like. Does adulthood mean reminding women that their bodies are always up for consumption? That they’re afforded no privacy?

 

Is it that when a man has power and is invited to speak on the library conference circuit, he’s free from being called out for behavior that’s left colleagues uncomfortable?

 

Is it that men are allowed to grab girls’ bodies without their permission for laughs and video hits, then follow up just criticism for that behavior with threats?

 

Girls shouldn’t fear for their lives when they’re just living them. Girls who are impassioned about their worlds, who want nothing more than to engage with their world, learn about that world, build empathy for this place and the people around them, who use their knowledge and their passion to give voice to their beliefs shouldn’t worry about their bodies — or their lives — being at stake for doing so.

 

And yet, because we’re asking for and raising our voices without waiting for permission to do so, it happens.

 

The reason there’s fear that “adulthood is dying” isn’t that the patriarchy is dead. Far from. It’s that voices are being discovered through media like YA fiction, sharpened and raised. Girls are finding good things are out there for them, but getting to those good things requires claws. That being unlikable isn’t a character flaw or a death sentence, but instead, a state of being, a way of pushing through, of building confidence.

 

Speaking up, advocating for, listening to, and writing about girls is an act of radicalism. It’s about building an adulthood recognizing that the world is layered and colored with millions of shades of gray and accepting that with better nourishment — including rape stories, bullying stories, sweet or sultry romances, magical tales — the better our world reflects us, rather than us trying to reflect a singular, reductive, and fabricated idea of the world.

 

Let’s encourage those fears expressed by Beha and Scott are things we get to see happen. Writing about girls and believing women is everything that they’re afraid of.

 

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When I speak about girls, I hope it’s clear that I also speak in defense of all along the gender spectrum who are marginalized.

 

Further reading: Anne Ursu talks about the power of empathy, about how Beha and Scott fail to understand that that’s the driving purpose behind literature, including — and especially — YA fiction. Sarah McCarry digs into whose pleasure is really at stake when it comes to the “death of the patriarchy” and YA fiction. Spend some time, too, with Robin Wasserman talking about “Girl Trouble.”

 

 

Crossing the Line: Adult-Teen Relationships in YA Fiction and Beyond

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In Saturday’s Links of Note roundup, I pulled together some of the posts making rounds regarding the sexual misconduct scandal within DFTBA records. If you aren’t completely up on what’s going on — and I have to admit, I’m not entirely clear on everything happening either — here’s a piece that’ll give the rundown as it started. This is a story that has many layers to it, and I think that Jeanne has done a pretty good job breaking some more of them down in her post (and the subsequent update she’s linked to). Read this, as well as the comments. Her background is within the fandom perspective, which is an arena I know little about. 

But what’s stood out to me over the course of this is less the allegations of sexual abuse — which isn’t to say that’s not important because it certainly is — but instead, I’ve found myself fascinated by an organization which is run primarily (entirely?) by men who serve a primarily teen audience and fan base. There is nothing wrong with that, but it leads to a lot of questions about how those who are older than eighteen can or should interact with their underage audiences. This isn’t only about DFTBA; it’s about any situation where adults work with or for or come in contact with teens in some capacity. 

I was a teen girl once. I was a teen girl who loved male acoustic singers, and I was lucky enough to be able to go to a lot of concerts growing up. I lived close enough to Chicago to make this a reality, and I’d earned enough trust to go, whether with an adult or by myself/with a group of friends. I never thought a whole lot about the fact that I was under 18 and going and seeing these men who were in their late 20s and 30s performing. Many times because of my working for the high school newspaper, I was able to get in touch with these artists and set up either web-based or in-person interviews. 

I never found it weird to talk with them after a show or ask for an autograph or ask a few questions or even approach them for a hug. It never occurred to me that that could be uncomfortable. I was a teen girl and expressing my interest and my passion for music and the art someone else was making. 

One night after a show, I’d had such a good time and had a chance to talk with the singer afterwards, mentioning that I was really bummed I couldn’t go to his show the next night since it was a 21 and older only spot. I’d been there with my mom, and rather than invite me to come to the show anyway, he talked with my mom and said if she was willing to come with me, he’d sneak me in to sell merch for the show that night. 

But this was after he talked with my mom. 

Of course then it didn’t seem like a big deal to me, but in thinking about that moment now, it was exactly the right thing for him to do. Rather than invite me personally or offer to sneak me in, he asked my mom for approval and asked if she would come with me to do so. He didn’t lead me on and he didn’t try to make promises for me. He set up some clear boundaries and expectations immediately in order to protect not just himself but to protect me, as well. 

Barry Lyga wrote two really great posts last week talking about being in the sort of position where he’s regularly interacting with teenagers. The first, which you should read here, set off a lot of questions and discussion. Was he being too strict in having a “no hugs” policy? He followed up with a response to the things people asked or said to him — primarily to those who thought his approach was far too rigid and strict — in this post. The golden piece is this quote: “Why do we presume men are guilty? Dunno, but here’s the thing: until it changes, I’m not going to pretend it hasn’t changed. Change comes first —then hugs.” 

What Lyga speaks to isn’t the presumption of guilt. He’s not calling men the problem. He’s instead pointing out that we do live in a world where bad things happen and rather than contribute to that, his policy is simply hands off. Does it mean sometimes a teen doesn’t get what he or she wants? Something that could make his or her day or week or year? Certainly. 

In his own words: “A part of respect in a relationship between an adult and a minor is acknowledging the power imbalance and setting reasonable boundaries. We can quibble about the nature and tone of those boundaries, but I don’t think we should quibble about their necessity.”

This is where I find myself most fascinated by the DFTBA community and the events going on within it right now. There is a power imbalance. While we’re most familiar with imbalances that put someone in a position to hold their power over the heads of others, what is going on here is a power imbalance that’s never been considered: those who have power don’t see themselves in that way. It’s not that they should feel guilty or bad for what happened. It’s that the possibility of what could happen in such a position wasn’t at the forefront and wasn’t considered.

There was no blanket manner of dealing with issues that could arise because the idea that they could arise wasn’t something that they thought about. 

No matter how cool a 15 year old might be, a 22 year old shouldn’t be anything more than a 22 year old adult with that person. Gender does and doesn’t matter here. It matters because there’s certainly additional power imbalances when it’s a sexually-charged relationship, but it doesn’t matter because there is a clear line of legality regardless of the type of relationship being pursued. It can go either or both ways — older men or older women and/or younger boy or younger girl. 

What’s interesting in this particular instance is the language used to describe the teenager. She is not a teenager, nor is she a girl. She’s a young woman. There is a power construct in the word choice, whether intentional or not. Regardless of how cool or polished she comes off, she’s still a teenager. When I think about when I was a teenager, I was fueled by my feelings, especially in regards to how I was being talked to and treated by “cool” adults. I loved that respect and attention. 

But it didn’t change the fact I was a teenager and not a young woman. 

In thinking about relationships between adults and teenagers, I thought rather than try to deconstruct this further, it’d be worthwhile to build a short reading list of books that explore these relationships. In some instances, the imbalance is clear and the lines of right and wrong are crisp. In others, it’s not as clear. Descriptions come from WorldCat, and I’ve elaborated a little bit, too, about why these books are worthwhile reading and discussion fodder, especially in light of what’s happening in the DFTBA community. 

Please feel free to offer up other titles that showcase adult-teen relationships and the power (im)balances within them. I’d love to have a nice resource list because I think that this is a topic that doesn’t get talked about much but offers a lot of places for empowering not just teenagers, but adults, as well. 

This Gorgeous Game by Donna Freitas

Seventeen-year-old Olivia Peters, who dreams of becoming a writer, is thrilled to be selected to take a college fiction seminar taught by her idol, Father Mark, but when the priest’s enthusiasm for her writing develops into something more, Olivia shifts from wonder to confusion to despair.

In Freitas’s novel, Olivia wants the approval of her idol so bad, she’ll go to the ends of the Earth to earn it. The problem is that Father Mark takes complete advantage of her desires and manipulates Olivia in the worst possible ways. Olivia is and is not entirely on to what’s going on. She believes that in order to achieve, she has to listen and follow with the instructions she’s given, even if it feels weird or creepy or wrong. What complicates the matter further is how well respected Father Mark is not just in the community, but in Olivia’s family in particular. 

The Lucy Variations by Sara Zarr

Sixteen-year-old San Franciscan Lucy Beck-Moreau once had a promising future as a concert pianist. Her chance at a career has passed, and she decides to help her ten-year-old piano prodigy brother, Gus, map out his own future, even as she explores why she enjoyed piano in the first place.

Zarr’s novel doesn’t seem like it would have this element to it, but it does. Lucy’s become a little bit smitten with one of her teachers, and there is a clear exploration of what the lines of appropriate and inappropriate are as it comes to their relationship. What I think is most noteworthy here is how much Lucy seeks that approval and admiration from an older male. He’s cool and she loves the attention he can give her. That desire in her is, at times, hard to separate from the fact she’s 16. 

Love and Other Perishable Items by Laura Buzo

A fifteen-year-old Australian girl gets her first job and first crush on her unattainable university-aged co-worker, as both search for meaning in their lives.

What Buzo’s novel does is offer us the perspective of both the boy and the girl. We have a fifteen year old girl who is enamored by her coworker, who is in his early 20s and who enjoys hanging out and talking with her. But he understands clearly where the lines are in their relationship. He isn’t interested in her beyond talking and being friendly. He won’t pursue a deeper relationship with her and he certainly isn’t interested in leading her on nor holding his power over her head. He thinks she’s cool and she’s very smart, but he’s well attune to their age difference. 

Pointe by Brandy Colbert (available April 10)

Four years after Theo’s best friend, Donovan, disappeared at age thirteen, he is found and brought home and Theo puts her health at risk as she decides whether to tell the truth about the abductor, knowing her revelation could end her life-long dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer.

I’ll have a lengthy, spoiler-laden review of Colbert’s novel next week, but it’s a title that fits within this list and does so in a bit of a different way. While we see the emotional tolls that happen in Freitas’s and Zarr’s novels, what happens in Colbert’s novel is not only emotional, it’s physical too. It takes Theo the entire novel to understand what happened to her and what ripple effects it had not only on her own well-being, but on the well-being of her best friend. 

Though not for teen readers, Alissa Nutting’s Tampa is another novel worth reading that delves into wildly inappropriate adult-teen relationships. I mention this title in conjunction with the YA ones because I think it gets at an aspect that I haven’t talked too much about, which is gender. While the other novels have an older male at the forefront, Nutting’s flips the script and has an older woman pursuing completely inappropriate relationships with teen boys. This is a challenging and squick-inducing read. 

What other titles would you add to the list? While I think there’s a lot worth exploring on the sexual abuse end (Pointe and Tampa fit there), I’d be particularly interested in titles where the power dynamic is on burgeoning non-sexual relationships.