Why I'm Here

Arielle Grant working on her illustrations.

Why I’m Here:

An interview with Arielle Grant, author and illustrator of The Picture Box

First time author of The Picture Box, Arielle Grant, shares her truth–the story behind Ardelia, a wondering fourth grader who has just moved to a new place. Ardelia begins to question her identity for the first time, navigating who she is outside of her family, friends, and home. Amidst self-isolation I had the pleasure of connecting with Arielle over the phone, who lovingly and powerfully spoke of the importance of representation for young black girls, inherent self worth, and the imperative difference between one’s “career” and “life’s work.”

Can you tell me about your background, where you grew up and went to school?

I was born in Illinois, and when I lived there my mom and grandparents were pillars in my life. You can see that theme throughout the book. They were important figures in Ardelia’s life as well.

It wasn’t until I graduated from college and was working for an organization that served predominantly black children and families that I began to see patterns in the cadence of our speech, the music we grew up listening to, and the disparities we faced but didn’t share with our white peers. Realizing that there was a pattern, whether it be with good things or bad things, forced me to confront race and consider what influence it has on our lives and how it exists.

From there, I poured myself over history. I’m still learning a lot, about these systems and structures and the ways they show up in our lives. My progress towards racial consciousness both as a young adult, and in my adult life, are felt in the book and intertwined throughout Ardelia’s story.

What inspired you to write The Picture Box?

It was an experience in adulthood that inspired this story, a lesson I learned that I wish I had grasped as a young child. Many people in my life have shared lessons but I had to learn some the hard way. It really was in relation to career fluctuation and instability with my job title that made me consider: What is the work of my life outside the career path I’m on? How do I bring value into the world outside of my 9-5 job? I think the driving message of Ardelia’s story is that regardless of where you are, what you do as a career, or who is around you, you are valuable and you have inherent worth. It’s not about what you produce or your socioeconomic status. [With The Picture Box] I’ve been trying to work backwards and think about how a child might wrestle with some of these same questions. I’ve had to ask myself: How can I communicate this truth to children?

There’s a lot of great representation for young black girls in this story; how do you feel representation in books (and/or media), or the lack thereof, shapes a child’s identity?

I once heard this analogy about mirrors and windows. Because of the construct of race in the US we have different vantage points. Black children often see through windows. Windows are great! They are opportunities to see into other cultures and experiences that aren’t our own. But in contrast, oftentimes white children have mirrors. They look around and they see themselves in their teachers, doctors, on TV and in social media. However, for the positive development of children, for identity and self worth, we all need both mirrors and windows.

The driving force of this book was to create mirrors for black children, particularly black girls. We as humans can be very creative and imaginative, but often that creativity is just calling on images that we’ve already encountered, and mashing them together, or teasing them out. But if we’ve never seen a black teacher then we may never imagine ourselves as one. So it was important to give Delia that opportunity to walk around the city and see options; to see that as a black girl, she has options.

We want young women to know they can bust through the ceiling. But a ceiling also implies there is a hierarchy, that some career paths are better than others. And I’d so much rather young children who are considering what they want to be when they grow up or what they want to do as a career, and even fuller as human beings, to know that they get to choose–they can follow their passions and what their hearts break for. It doesn’t have to be in bondage of how the world perceives them, or based on racial identity.

You illustrated and wrote this book, which is so awesome. But you also mentioned being an amateur illustrator. What advice would you give to those who want to try something new?

I would say, go for it! It may seem so cliche but art is one of those things where the more you practice, the better you get, but it does take some letting go. With visual art there is a huge temptation to compare one’s art to other artists, and I just think that it’s like a thumbprint, we all have different styles.

The power of story also encourages all of us to find ways to be introspective, to take a moment, take days, take years, to consider the life we’ve lived. Consider what stories are within us and what we’ve learned from them. Then create a way to share those lessons with others. There’s an ancestral, ancient practice of storytelling that is innately human and that will never go away. Your stories are all yours; you are the expert of your own story. Whether it’s a direct first person narrative or telling a story through someone else as a fictional character like Ardelia, no one can tell that story except for you. If there’s a stirring in someone’s heart to try, then try and give yourself full range to fail and try again until you get something you are happy and proud of.

This is your first book, what did you learn about yourself while writing The Picture Box?

I think that part of what Ardelia learns in the book, and what I’m still learning, is that there’s definitely fear of what we can do; can I write a book? It feels very audacious and vulnerable. This process has been one that teaches me to try and to be okay with the ways that I might fall short. But fear should not be what keeps me from doing something. If I see a need, and I have the passion and compassion to show up, I should trust that and be gentle with myself in the process.

Would you like to write more books?

Yes, I definitely would. It will be interesting to see the ways that our community receives my story. I know from being the recipient of those who have generously shared their story, how powerful it can be. If this proves to be something that is good for our community then that will motivate me to pursue it in the future. But I am also not boxing myself in, even when it comes to picture books versus a book of essays, versus a novel. Those are all things I can imagine myself doing and it’s all based on what the future holds. I do know that I will in some way shape or form continue to tell stories, even if a version of that is not in print. Even if one day I find myself sitting in community with others, listening to stories and sharing stories, I know that will always be a big part of my life. Regardless of whether my art will continue to be public, I will always create.

What do you do when you’re not writing or drawing?

I own a business called Render Free. We are a collective of self-identified black and brown women that are learning together how to prioritize our own wellness in response to racial trauma. Render Free is opening a space in South Minneapolis this summer (2020) that will function in different ways. It will be a physical space held for black and brown women to simply exist, work, play and rest. There will be events held regularly in this space featuring special guests from people across the Twin Cities who will lead us in wellness practices. In community we will explore what it means to be gentle with ourselves, to prioritize our well being; to make sure we are filled up so that we can do the pouring out that we so naturally do for our friends and family; what does it mean to actually invest in ourselves so that we can have longevity in our lives and continue to be a pillar in our communities the way that we always are?

As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up? Has your path changed?

Because I loved to sing, I thought I’d be a singer. Part of what I love about Ardelia’s story, spoiler alert, is that she doesn’t decide what she wants to be. I think that’s way more true of adult life. I know a handful of people today whose occupations reflect what they aspired to do when they were younger. But even that doesn’t capture who they are. It doesn’t fully capture the work of one's life. But there is something beautiful in the way we come to that as children that we might lose as adults, which is “I wanted to be a singer because I like to sing.” What if it wasn’t about, “I like to sing so I must become a singer,” but what if it was, “I like to sing so I will always sing!”? Whether or not that’s how I will make my money, we’ll see. Even as I look at what careers I’ve had, I’ve worked in so many different industries. But there is a common strand throughout my work, and that is my life work. I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d be an author of a children's book, but I’ve leaned into the things I love to do, illustrate, tell stories, connect with others and that’s why I’m here.

Last question for fun! Favorite childhood book?

That is a hard question! What comes to mind are some more recent books, there are some powerful ones that are on the shelves right now. There’s one called “The President Sings Amazing Grace,” about Obama. With that one there are very few words, and it’s really powerful and moving. The first time I read it I teared up. Another is called “Tallulah Toothfairy,” which is about this black CEO tooth fairy, and she’s hilarious.

Childhood books… Testing my memory. I think of books like Corduroy. I think of The Mouse, the Cookie…Who stole a cookie or something like that. But I think both of those points show the reality of this huge disparity that there are more books about animals than there are that feature black and brown children. The creation of The Picture Box is to address that disparity in classrooms and in homes regardless of the racial makeup of those spaces. We need windows and mirrors in representation within our book bindings.