If one knows anything about diversity in the comics world, it’s that it’s been primarily white, male, and under-representative of marginalized identities. But what about graphic novels? Fortunately, in recent years different types of authors and illustrators have come forward to tell their stories—including Jasmine Walls and Teo DuVall, who created the graphic novel Brooms.
Diversity and Native Americans in Graphic Novels
As Brigid Alverson writes in a blog for School Library Journal, self-published comics, webcomics, and graphic novels are more diverse “simply because there are many different stories to be told and many paths to success.” While women and Asian Americans have had representation, less graphic novels have been created by African Americans, and the field lacks a fair amount of other rep: for example, “comics about contemporary Native Americans are hard to find.”
In a study by School Library Research, researchers found that representation for people of color in graphic novels for teens was surprisingly high: 43 of 57 books, 76%, included characters of color. Fifteen included main characters of color, while the numbers for supporting and background characters of color were even higher. However, only 12 books had authors of color, indicating “the voices producing these texts are still overwhelmingly white.”
Michael Sheyahshe, enrolled member of the Caddo Nation and author of Native Americans in Comic Books, writes in a blog post for We Need Diverse Books that “Indigenous readers and pop culture consumers now have many more Indigenous heroes to follow, enjoy, and in which to take pride”—however, he notes, we should also be wary of stereotypical portrayals, negative tropes, and racism. To Sheyahshe, “graphic and sequential storytelling media represents a relatively new frontier for the accurate portrayal of Indigenous characters,” and the accessibility of the graphic medium makes it “very attractive for up-and-coming Indigenous storytellers.”
Those storytellers include people just like Walls and DuVall.
Brooms: About the Book & Review
While Brooms doesn’t necessarily feature contemporary Native Americans, it tells a story set in 1930s Mississippi, including characters who are Black, brown, Asian American, transgender, queer, female, male, and/or deaf. The representation becomes even more significant when considering that the authors also live at the intersections of these identities: DuVall is queer and Chicanx, for example.
Representation aside, the story itself is amazing. In a world where magic for people like them is limited, Choctaw girls Mattie and Emma have a plan: learn broom racing, illegal but secretly practiced, and something that offers a lot of cash to the winning team. That money could help their family buy a license to let them practice magic. Their cousin, Luella, wants to help them, despite the family’s resistance because they know broom racing comes with its risks. Nevertheless, Mattie and Emma start training with the Night Storms broom racing team. Its captain, Billie Mae, is Luella’s lover. The team also includes Loretta, Billie Mae’s friend, and Cheng Kwan, who met Loretta and Billie Mae as children. Their team is reputable for its skills, but they’ve got their fair share of challenges—both in the racing itself and in the constant fear of being discovered by government agents who could fine them, arrest them, or even seal their powers away.
At first, I found it a little confusing to keep track of all the characters, but gradually I began to understand who each of them were. They all have their distinct personality, mannerisms, and way of speaking that make it easy to tell who is who—Cheng Kwan, for example, is a bright, outgoing person, while Billie Mae is the strong, confident leader who often overworks herself but can be silly in private. Luella is someone who wants to keep her young, eager cousins safe, but—given her traumatic experiences at a white magic academy that led to her powers being sealed—she also knows what it could mean for Mattie and Emma to be able to practice magic without fear.
The art style of the book is more “stiff” and realistic than I usually read, even considering that graphic novels typically have less movement and look less “cartoonish” than traditional comic books. But I grew more comfortable with the style as the book went on, especially considering how consistently well everyone was drawn in the panels. Speaking of the drawings, I found it really amazing that sign language was portrayed visually in the panels. (In the creator’s notes, Walls actually writes that “Emma’s sign language is referenced from Indian Sign Language by William Tomkins and with the help of language experts from the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians,” which is really cool). There are also visual drawings of Loretta’s physical disability, a metal brace on her leg, and she even has a metal hook on her broom to help her fly!
Cheng Kwan’s story is also something that resonated with me in the book: when it starts, her parents don’t know she identifies as a girl. She appears boyish when working at her family’s store and only wears skirts when she’s racing with her team at night. Near the end, however, she tells her parents, and they’re very supportive, which was so wonderful to hear. They even suggest moving so that so that she can live as her true self. The news further motivates Cheng Kwan to race, as the potential winnings will financially help her parents a lot with the move. (Walls, in her acknowledgements, thanks consultants for naming Cheng Kwan and offering information about her experience as transgender.)
There is so much more I could talk about with this book, but for the sake of length, I’ll stop there. Instead I’ll strongly encourage you to read this book, which takes incredible strides in terms of representation and is a fun and exciting read!
(Note: for a book list of other graphic novels created by Native authors, check out this booklist by American Indians in Children’s Literature.)
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