
By Yasmine Aslam-Hashmi
Today we’re pleased to welcome Brynne Barnes to the WNDB blog to discuss her picture book Black Girl Rising, illustrated by Tatyana Fazlalizadeh and out June 28, 2022!
This enduring anthem for Black girls celebrates their power, potential, and brilliance—for themselves and for the world.
You are a thousand curls
unfurling in your hair.
You are a thousand fists
standing proudly in air.
You are the song of swallows,
lifting sun as they sing—
breaking light with their beaks,
breaking sky with their wings . . .
Black girlhood is beautiful! In this deeply moving celebration and rallying cry, and in the face of the many messages that still work to convince Black girls that they should shrink themselves, hide their light, know their place, Brynne Barnes and Tatyana Fazlalizadeh reclaim that narrative: A Black girl’s place is everywhere, and her selfhood is everything she can dream it to be.
With poignant, poetic prose and striking, color-drenched illustrations, this empowering picture book centers the inherent worthiness and radiance of Black girls that is still far too often denied. A love letter to and for Black girls everywhere, Black Girl Rising alchemizes the sorrow and strength of the past into the brilliant gold of the future, sweeping young readers of all backgrounds into a lyrical exploration of what it means to be Black, female, and glorious.
Thank you so much, Brynne, for taking the time to do this interview. What compelled you to write this book? What meaning does this book have for you?
This is a love letter to Black girls, to Black girlhood, to women everywhere. It’s the book I needed, wanted to read as a girl. This is a tribute to our younger selves and our present selves. Children’s literature has a way of reminding us of all the most important things—to listen to ourselves, our inner voices about what we can do, who we are, and who we can be. It’s not up to the world to tell us who we are; it’s our job to tell the world.
I found the structure of your book very intriguing because you start off questioning different aspects of identity and ambition. I felt like you were pushing the reader to turn around and say, “Why not?” “You’re supposed to dim your light and never be seen.” I had to pause for a moment, but then your book continues to bring light back in.
What was your intention for structuring your book in this manner?
This structure came with the voice of the poem. It actually took me by surprise, and it intrigued me because it sounds like someone doubting herself, playing back the voices that tell her she can’t, she shouldn’t, she won’t, she’s not enough, or she’s too much. These are all things that we’ve heard before in some way, shape, or form. When we internalize doubt like that—what others tell us—we cannot hear the truth about how magically wonderful we truly are. I love what you said here about how the book “continues to bring light back in”. That’s the thing—the light is always there. We just have to let it shine and get to know ourselves how we truly are.
The sparrow often symbolises power, creativity, community and empowerment. Why did you choose to incorporate the sparrow into your message? Was the use of the symbolic sparrow a part of the inspiration behind this book?
You’ve named many of the very reasons that I wanted to include the sparrow. I couldn’t help but think about how sparrows represent strength and power in such a small frame, and the ability to find joy in small, everyday things—in our own songs that we sing. Sparrows feel like protection, also—like guidance from a higher place.
In a previous interview, you mentioned how you first started writing poetry because you had discovered Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, and Nikki Giovanni. You make notable mentions of these individuals within the poem of your book. Why did you choose to incorporate them into the poem?
I couldn’t not include them. They came forth in the writing of this piece because I take with me everyone that I read. We all do. These works that touch us, live in us. I hear their voices and so many others whenever I’m writing. For those gifts that others gave, I always whisper, thank you. This is the beauty of inspiration—it’s contagious. Truth remains truth, beauty remains beauty—no matter who writes it down.
What lessons have you learned through the writing process?
There are too many to say, but the one that first comes to mind is that I’ve learned to trust. I always think of writing as a great act of faith. I show up, willing to write what needs to be written, and trust that the words will come; they always do. Each book comes with its own “voice”—this is the best way that I can think to describe it—and that “voice” stays with me for as long as I’m working on that book. When the words come as I’m writing them down, they come in that “voice”. For that, I’m grateful; writing has taught me gratitude. It has also taught me patience and that understanding comes with time. I don’t always immediately understand every single thing that I write down. It takes time. It’s like putting together a grand puzzle that only comes to you one piece at a time. The thrill and the excitement comes from slowly piecing it together, revealing its true meaning, which I don’t get to truly grasp until the very end. I work very hard at letting the piece become what it wants to be, letting it speak to me, and once I get a sense of that, I shape it gently from there.
What are three words you would use to describe your book, Black Girl Rising, and why?
Pride: We must be taught to see ourselves for who we truly are. The barriers we might feel have been felt before, and they’ve already been broken. What our “she-roes” can do, we can do, too. We need to speak into our children the power of possibility and limitless potential.
Potent: This book is about acknowledging the “big, bad wolf”—the one that can steal our confidence and stifle our own voices. Children need to know not only that the “big, bad wolf” of doubt, self-doubt, and discouragement is real, but they can conquer that wolf. Children need to know that they are the “she-roes” of their own stories—no matter what.
Uplifting: We can hold our heads high, knowing that we stand on the shoulders of giants. It is our time to bring that legacy forward. I’m hoping that this book serves as a light that reminds us of the queens we were born to be.
You’ve often quoted Perry Nodelman who states, “Words can make pictures into rich narrative resources—but only because they communicate so differently from pictures that they change the meaning of pictures. For the same reason, also, pictures can change the narrative thrust of words” (Words about Pictures: The Narrative Art of Children’s Picture Books, 1988)
How would you apply this statement to your book Black Girl Rising?
I wanted the reader to really be able to see herself in the illustrations present. The great ones that we already know are there, too. But the ones that we are becoming, the ones that we are yet to be—these are the images I was hoping the illustrations would portray. And they do!
What are some of your favourite childhood books?
I loved Shel Siverstein (Where the Sidewalk Ends is among my all-time favorites), Dr. Seuss, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs by Judi Barrett, the Madeline series by Ludwig Bemelmans, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst, Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People’s Ears by Verna Aardema, Black Profiles in Courage by Kareem Abdul Jabbar, and I read a lot of poetry by Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni, Pablo Neruda, and Kahlil Gibran (The Prophet is still one of my favorite books.) and even some Shakespeare when I was a little older—I didn’t understand it all at first, but I was entranced by the music of the language.
What does literacy success look like to you?
I think literacy success looks like all children everywhere being able to pick books from the shelves in which they can see themselves, their faces, their neighborhoods, their families and friends, their whole worlds right there on the page. This is my goal for every book that I write because when I was a child, I wasn’t able to see myself in very many books that I read (and I read a lot).
What is the most difficult part of your artistic process? Where do you turn to get inspiration for your writing?
The most difficult part can be not knowing where the story is going, not knowing what it’s going to be. Composing written work is like composing music (which I also do). Writing is a creative, intellectual practice, but it’s also a “feeling thing”. For me, it’s all about the feeling—that’s what leads me. It’s the reason that I love to do this—to give that feeling to the audience. So I’m very focused on how the words feel when I think them, write them, say them out loud; that’s the feeling that I want the readers to have.
What books or themes do you hope to write about that your readers can anticipate to see soon?
I’ve been told by readers and booksellers that all of my books seem to have this underlying theme of making the reader think. I would add to that and say that the underlying theme of every book, especially this one and others forthcoming, would be love. Different ways of experiencing love, different kinds of love (including self-love)—and the celebration of it.
What else would you like to share with the readers of WNDB?
Writing is a great act of love, and it is my greatest joy to share my greatest love with all of you.
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