Returning to my series of posts (see here, here, and here) that examine (and appreciatively recognize) books that have been targeted for censorship based on their depiction of race and racism in this nation, I now turn my attention to Fry Bread: A Native American Family Story, a 2019 picture book written by Kevin Noble Maillard and illustrated by Juana Martinez-Neal. [See and hear the author reading Fry Bread aloud]
Once again, this seems at first glance an odd book to be the target of censorship. Almost every spread of this book, publisher-recommended for ages 3-6, features a diverse-looking set of children, along with a few adults, who are smiling as they work together to prepare and enjoy a favorite food. These typically cheerful illustrations feature soft, rounded lines to form the characters, dressed mostly in soft browns and blues with some pops of red and orange, against an ivory background. Each two-page illustration includes a brief, free-verse poem beginning with “FRY BREAD IS” in red capital letters before describing an aspect of the bread and what it signifies: “FRY BREAD IS FOOD,” FRY BREAD IS SHAPE,” sound, color, flavor, time, art, history, place, nation, us, finishing with “FRY BREAD IS YOU.” One can easily see this book as a bedtime favorite, especially for a child for whom fry bread is a familiar treat, or as a read aloud selection for a circle time in any early childhood classroom.
Fry Bread has garnered extensive critical acclaim, appearing on numerous “best book” lists, receiving six starred reviews, and being selected as an American Indian Youth Picture Book Honor Winner and as the winner of the Robert F. Sibert Informational Book Medal. It also appears to be a reader favorite, based on a 4.9 out of 5-star rating, with 3,581 ratings (91% 5-star; with only 2% 3-star, and 0% 1- or 2-star) on Amazon, as of January 18, 2024.
Nevertheless, it was also included on lists of books targeted in at least two large school-based censorship campaigns. According to Marshall Libraries, “The Northampton (PA Area School District (NASD) school board unanimously voted to table a donation of dozens of books from The Conscious Kid, a non-profit organization focused on equity and promoting healthy racial identity development” after complaints from ten parents and grandparents. The objections included concerns that the donating group “uses Marxist critical race theory” and that the donated books are “divisive,” “racist,” and “socialist.” It was also among the long list of books by people of color removed by Pennsylvania’s Central York School District before the ban was lifted following student protests. Again, parental concerns about the collection of books reportedly included “the issue of critical race theory and teaching white guilt.”
Beyond its mere inclusion in recommendation lists of “diverse” children’s books, the factor most likely to have led to this book’s inclusion in the “banned books” lists is Fry Bread’s presentation of [Native] American history:
FRY BREAD IS HISTORY
The long walk, the stolen land
Strangers in our own world
With unknown food
We made new recipes
From what we had
The picture accompanying these words markedly contrast with the other illustrations in Fry Bread. A storyteller holding a baby, with a frowning man standing beside her, speaks of the Trail of Tears to the group of children, who listen with uneasy faces. Even the cat in the illustration looks frightened. The eyes of the listeners are turned toward an image in a shadowy background showing a mass of people walking in line, overshadowed by black birds. These black birds also appear among the elders and children, leaving the impression that their ominous presence encompasses the people. The two-page spread provides a darker perspective to this mostly celebratory presentation of Native American life.
The darkness is even more apparent in the commentary for this page in the extensively researched (complete with footnotes) eight-page author’s note, targeted for an older audience than the poetic main text. Here the Maillard brings up parts of American history that are very ugly indeed and that directly contradict many Americans’ beliefs about the foundations of the nation:
In contrast to the amicable relations taught at school and celebrated at home every Thanksgiving, the vast majority of relations between Indian nations and the American government have been marked by war, genocide, and conflict. Antagonism, while not as violent, persists to the present day.
A strong, politically-charged statement. However, while insisting that the American government has done wrong, even the author’s note never directly violates the various state laws that prohibit instruction that (white) people should feel guilt or pain because of their race. It simply states a Native American perspective of history and how it affects Native Americans living today, with no direction of how readers should respond.
Few preschoolers will ever encounter the more detailed explanation of the darker section of this picture book, as it is easy to read through the brief nod to history without dwelling on it. As I’ve addressed elsewhere, balancing truthful presentations of the darker aspects of historical reality with protective care for vulnerable young readers poses significant ethical challenges for creators of children’s literature. Gatekeepers of children’s books may never agree on the ages and circumstances required to make sharing troubling aspects of historical violence and oppression appropriate—even beneficial—to young readers, although most parents and teachers prefer a softened approach for preschoolers. Those who desire neither to silence voices speaking their own truths nor to traumatize young (listening) readers can appreciate that Fry Bread’s presentation of the darker story of American history leaves room for those not ready to tackle difficult issues to scoot on past without lingering, unharmed.
Including the “FRY BREAD IS HISTORY” pages does, however, benefit many readers. The poem and illustration recognize and reflect a story likely to be at least dimly familiar to many young Native children, with all the benefits of “mirror” books. In doing so, it also indirectly, subtly, points toward a bigger, more complex story for those who have only heard the “amicable” and celebratory versions of the history of European settlers’ relations with the people of the Indian nations, inviting those ready to learn more to do so. The book, complete with author’s note, is designed to expand for an older audience, providing more illuminating windows for older children, as can be seen in the “Critical Literacy, Grades K-8” and “Critical Literacy, Grades 4-8” sections of Katie Cunningham’s SLJ The Classroom bookshelf post. For those who believe that the best way to amplify America’s greatness is to increase understanding, learning from the past and, when necessary, striving to do better, increased critical literacy is advantageous.
Beyond the delightful celebration of family sharing food together and the opportunity for a broadened perspective on Native American history provided in Fry Bread, this book is beneficial for teaching young children about Native Americans and their culture, a topic appropriate for early childhood education. A particular value is that it counters common stereotypes of Native Americans. The picture book shows that Native Americans are alive and present in American society today, not just historical figures as a surprising number of Americans believe, perhaps in part because school curricular standards addressing Indigenous people in America emphasize pre-1900 content. “We are still here” the “FRY BREAD IS US” poem proclaims.
Fry Bread also highlights in both words and illustrations the diversity within a group often perceived monolithically. The words of the opening poem suggest that even the common food being celebrated is prepared in different ways by different people:
FRY BREAD IS FOOD
Flour, salt, water
Cornmeal, baking powder
Perhaps milk, maybe sugar
All mixed together in a big bowl
The “perhaps” and “maybe” qualifying milk and sugar suggest these are optional ingredients used in some recipes, but Maillard, who now serves as the “fry bread lady” of his family, mentions in his author’s note that his family recipe’s inclusion of cornmeal might be surprising “not only for traditionalists, but for many Natives who have never heard of such a thing.” Noting the widespread existence of subjective, even controversial, views on fry bread, he acknowledges, “If there is one thing that all Natives can agree upon about fry bread, it’s that everybody else’s version is wrong.” However, he insists that the cornmeal and its reflection of his family’s “Southern influence” and “blending of African American and Native American cultures” does not make his “rendition of fry bread any less authentic, less Indigenous, or ‘right’” than other versions of this traditional food.
The variations among authentic fry bread recipes reflects the diversity among Native people, as shown throughout the book, but most clearly suggested in the “Fry Bread Is Everything” poem:
FRY BREAD IS EVERYTHING
Round, flat, large, small
North, South, East West
Brown, yellow, black, white
Familiar and foreign, old and new
We come together
The initial description of food transitions to a broader vista, reflected by the accompanying illustrations of the characters, outdoors, peering out into a wide expanse of sky.
Throughout Fry Bread, Juana Martinez-Neal’s illustrations show diversity among Native people. Some characters have brown skin and long, straight, black hair, falling loose or arranged in two braids, while others have skin ranging from fair to black, hair that is chin-length and blonde or soft brown, or tight cornrows, or dark or reddish tight curls. One has Seminole symbols tattooed on the wrists, another body art stretching from shoulder to wrist. As Maillard points out in the author’s note, despite common expectations that Native Americans “always have brown skin and black hair,” there is actually “an enormous range of hair textures and skin colors” because of the “history of intermingling between tribes and also with people of European, African, and Asian descent.”
A comprehensively inclusive list of Native Nations on the endpapers, shown in part on the “Fry Bread is Nation” pages, reminds (or informs) readers of the many Native cultures and sovereign nations that exist within the United States. (The level of inclusion actually presents a much more significant controversy than that of multiple approaches to fry bread itself, although one apparent primarily in the end pages and author’s note. While Fry Bread’s creators chose to list groups that identify as Native who have failed to “achieve official status with the U.S. or state governments,” even staunch supporters of this picture book have challenged that level of inclusivity.) For people who are too often forgotten, relegated to the past, or presented in monolithic stereotypes, a book that serves as mirror and window to show their continuing and diverse presence in contemporary American society is valuable indeed.
So, once again I repeat, like a never-ending chorus or resounding drum, my praise of children’s literature for its capacity to expand the boundaries of young readers’ views of the world and to provide all readers with opportunities to see their lives reflected, along with my concerns about the dangers posed by attempts to censor books that provide these benefits.
Admittedly, Fry Bread: A Native American Family Story has not successfully been suppressed. Attempts to keep it and books like it out of public institutions, however, are still damaging. In Educating for a Diverse Democracy, John Rogers and Joseph Kahne (et al) warn that the “conflict campaigns” of groups that actively resisted alleged (though seldom actually existing) CRT instruction “led to a chilling effect—in the form of pressure to avoid discussing race and racism in general” (19). Even when specific book banning attempts fail, the mere threat of book challenges makes many teachers and librarians select “safer” books, and children’s reading lives are needlessly constricted.
Image: Interior illustration by Juana Martinez-Neal from Fry Bread.
