On February 9, 2023, at the fourth Joint Conference of Librarians of Color (JCLC), I had the exhilarating experience of guiding a discussion that focused on the need to connect with nerd culture and create a welcoming environment for the BIPOC fandom. The soul of this session had been several years in the making and built on countless heart-to-heart moments. So, I couldn’t imagine a better venue for seeing it actualized than my first JCLC.
As an educator, I’ve long understood that engaging learners drives their learning process. But as I was wrapping up my information studies degree, I began to critically examine comics and consider their oft-discounted literacy benefits. I realized that by failing to embrace and promote them as “real reading” the educational community was failing to engage many of the individuals that we were so desperately trying to reach. In pursuit of helping to move that needle, I developed myself as a comics librarian: serving on and chairing the Texas Maverick Graphic Novel Reading List Committee, co-founding and co-chairing the Central Texas Teen and Kids Comic Con, and serving as Reading with Pictures’ Vice President of Social Media. But above all else, I’ve come to recognize that “they”—the fandom—are me. I’ve always been a fan, but now I get to live in community.
The question being answered in this essay is what do I, as the teacher,
Jean: I’ve always known I was a nerd. The roadblock I had was the eternal freedom to be a nerd wherever I chose. At home, I had to be tough and brave, as my father had some brutish qualities that took over the more he consumed alcohol and demonstrated violence. I used books to drown out the sorrow and dysfunction at home. The comfortableness of being a nerd in school was great until middle school, where “being cool” meant not being so academic. I still made good grades, but I began to feel sheepish and insecure. By the time I made it to high school, I was bored. I began hanging out with delinquents and skipping school. It wasn’t until my mother planned to enroll me in private religious school that I got my act together, re-engaged with academics and started to soar again. She made a deal with me that for every straight-As report card I brought home, I’d receive a pair of Nike Jordan tennis shoes, which were the thing in the 90s.
Once I became a librarian—so many librarians played pivotal roles in my life—I vowed that in the library, you could BE whomever you desired, obtain knowledge FOR whatever you desired and interact WITH anything you desired via library programming. I try to ensure that the programs I create in the library speak to “the nerd,” “the cool" and the “Inspector Gadget” in us all. It’s important to feel like your voice is heard. The library represents the voiceless. Sometimes, I’m the beacon to guide them; others times, I have to pour some of my light into them.
Question 4: Finally, how do you leverage your accomplishments to support the nerd community?
Jean: I speak at conferences like the Joint Conference of Librarians of Color (JCLC) and join roundtables for young adult and graphic novel engagement with our communities. I create programming and decor based on nerd-like games, TV shows, and books. I dress up on movie release days that speak to my “inner nerd.” I ensure that my Spiderman: Miles Morales, Black Panther and Wonder Woman wardrobes are carefully curated and worn various times throughout the year. When the Black Panther film released in 2018, I made sure an “understanding the moment” lesson showed up in the curriculum. Wakanda brought a fictional African culture into reality for the descendants of the former enslaved Africans. Though it’s all fantasy, the realism in attending the movie, in our cultural attire and with the proudness of technological advancements and the lack of colonial influence on screen, behind the scenes, and in the award-winning decor CEMENTED the realism for African Americans in our present reality. It hugged my “inner nerd" in an overwhelming sense of acceptance that I never had publicly. That’s how I leverage supporting the nerd community: emboldened and fearlessly...like our Ancestors had to do in the face of adversity. As the adage goes, we were the seeds our Ancestors planted and nourished with their blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice.
Furthermore, for this session, I had the honor of being in conversation with fellow nerds and comics librarians Jean Darnell and Deimosa Webber-Bey. To my eternal amazement, our talk was met with a standing room only reception, and afterward we were repeatedly regaled with tales of being turned away at the door. In hopes of capturing a small portion of that day's magic, this post grew out of that discussion.
***
For the past 30 years, BIPOC nerds have existed in the cringe-worthy shadow of Urkel. What if, instead, they’d had portrayals such as Chadwick Bosman’s Black Panther, Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron, and Simu Liu’s Shang-Chi become cultural icons who not only fed their passions but also served as their avatars? Would they feel less like mutants hiding among us? Just as Wakanda was a fiercely guarded safe haven, libraries can create spaces for the BIPOC fandom - an underserved and underrepresented community within our communities. In the following interview, Jean Darnell, Christina Taylor, and Deimosa Webber-Bey explain the need for such aegis.
Question 1: Let’s begin with each of us formally introducing ourselves and explaining our relationships to literacy and the BIPOC fandom.
Jean: I’m a staunch social justice librarian out of Austin, Texas by way of Houston. I first realized I was a nerd when I wanted to dress up in Darth Vader and Spiderman costumes because those were the books that inspired me more than Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. Don’t get me wrong, I liked those typically “girly things,” if I was forced to own up to liking it, but the FUN was flicking webs from my fingers and jumping around the house. I needed adventure and gadgets to soothe my inner existence. In the comic books, especially Wakanda, it was a world built on tech, gadgets and in complete support of Black excellence. Unlike my mother, who attended a historically black college or university (HBCU), I never knew what it was like to be educated without racism being a factor. Knowing that Shuri, Storm, Nubia, and Black Panther were depictions of our successes immediately became a fixation for me and I yearned to be a part of that world in some way
Question 1: Let’s begin with each of us formally introducing ourselves and explaining our relationships to literacy and the BIPOC fandom.
Jean: I’m a staunch social justice librarian out of Austin, Texas by way of Houston. I first realized I was a nerd when I wanted to dress up in Darth Vader and Spiderman costumes because those were the books that inspired me more than Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. Don’t get me wrong, I liked those typically “girly things,” if I was forced to own up to liking it, but the FUN was flicking webs from my fingers and jumping around the house. I needed adventure and gadgets to soothe my inner existence. In the comic books, especially Wakanda, it was a world built on tech, gadgets and in complete support of Black excellence. Unlike my mother, who attended a historically black college or university (HBCU), I never knew what it was like to be educated without racism being a factor. Knowing that Shuri, Storm, Nubia, and Black Panther were depictions of our successes immediately became a fixation for me and I yearned to be a part of that world in some way
Christina: I’m a veteran educator and information specialist whose practice is rooted in helping learners advance their literacy skills and critical thinking practice. For fourteen years, I taught high school English in Texas public schools before leaving the classroom to broaden the impact of my efforts as a school librarian. After twenty-one years in public education, I joined the Continuing Education and Consulting team at the Texas State Library and Archives Commission as the Youth Services Consultant where I can broaden my reach even more by ensuring Texas libraries are knowledgeable about and have the resources to implement youth services that meet the needs of their communities.
As an educator, I’ve long understood that engaging learners drives their learning process. But as I was wrapping up my information studies degree, I began to critically examine comics and consider their oft-discounted literacy benefits. I realized that by failing to embrace and promote them as “real reading” the educational community was failing to engage many of the individuals that we were so desperately trying to reach. In pursuit of helping to move that needle, I developed myself as a comics librarian: serving on and chairing the Texas Maverick Graphic Novel Reading List Committee, co-founding and co-chairing the Central Texas Teen and Kids Comic Con, and serving as Reading with Pictures’ Vice President of Social Media. But above all else, I’ve come to recognize that “they”—the fandom—are me. I’ve always been a fan, but now I get to live in community.
Deimosa: I am one of four corporate librarians for the Scholastic Library & Archive. I was born and raised in Queens, NYC, the ancestral home of the Lenape. At Scholastic my team and I are responsible for the archive, which contains everything Scholastic has published going back to 1920; although, there are materials in the collection going back to 1892. In addition to that, we do readers’ advisory, reference, original cataloging, and collection development for our patrons—the people who work at Scholastic; my formal title is Director of Information Services & Cultural Insight.
Librarianship is my evolution. I was a teacher before working at Scholastic, and when I was in school for my education degree, we wrote decrees on our ‘Best Practices for Teaching Literacy’ and so I want to share what I wrote twenty years ago—fresh out of Dartmouth, part of the New York City Teaching Fellows program, cohort 5:
Librarianship is my evolution. I was a teacher before working at Scholastic, and when I was in school for my education degree, we wrote decrees on our ‘Best Practices for Teaching Literacy’ and so I want to share what I wrote twenty years ago—fresh out of Dartmouth, part of the New York City Teaching Fellows program, cohort 5:
The question being answered in this essay is what do I, as the teacher,
believe are the best practices for teaching literacy. Speaking from an
idyllic, realistic, and theoretical perspective I believe the first step is to
have the students buy into it. I have been addicted to reading since I
learned to do it, but I realize many of my students do not have that love…
By engaging students with subject matter that is interesting, and
employing “fun”, pop-related reading and writing into the process, I can
teach them the mechanics they will need to be successful in the future.
That’s just a small portion of a single-spaced 10-point fonted plan.
As a member of Black Caucus American Library Association (BCALA), I was on the Black Lives Matter, Black Literature Matters Comics Reading List, a list to complement the many readings suggested in reaction to the uprisings of 2020. Where, I thought, in all this, are the comics???
Because there may be some Native Comic Book Society (NCBS) members in the audience, my main note on fandom is my involvement with NCBS. When I was working at Native American Community Academy (NACA), we started a comic book club at the high school. This twice-weekly gathering around a table in my classroom of about a dozen people max, has grown into a Facebook group with thousands of members, and I am the admin. It is one of the most rewarding experiences I have as an Indigenerd, though I am witness to family fights over representation, authenticity, and who has the right to tell stories.
Jean: I’ve always known I was a nerd. The roadblock I had was the eternal freedom to be a nerd wherever I chose. At home, I had to be tough and brave, as my father had some brutish qualities that took over the more he consumed alcohol and demonstrated violence. I used books to drown out the sorrow and dysfunction at home. The comfortableness of being a nerd in school was great until middle school, where “being cool” meant not being so academic. I still made good grades, but I began to feel sheepish and insecure. By the time I made it to high school, I was bored. I began hanging out with delinquents and skipping school. It wasn’t until my mother planned to enroll me in private religious school that I got my act together, re-engaged with academics and started to soar again. She made a deal with me that for every straight-As report card I brought home, I’d receive a pair of Nike Jordan tennis shoes, which were the thing in the 90s.
Once I became a librarian—so many librarians played pivotal roles in my life—I vowed that in the library, you could BE whomever you desired, obtain knowledge FOR whatever you desired and interact WITH anything you desired via library programming. I try to ensure that the programs I create in the library speak to “the nerd,” “the cool" and the “Inspector Gadget” in us all. It’s important to feel like your voice is heard. The library represents the voiceless. Sometimes, I’m the beacon to guide them; others times, I have to pour some of my light into them.
In 2004, I met my soon-to-be equally nerdy partner who adored that person I’d been hiding more and more over the years. Taking him home to meet his future in-laws brought to light the significant role that—largely unbeknownst to me—comics had played in the reading habits of my loved ones. Only then did I understand that Daddy’s vague references to the “magazines” he collected as a youth likely spanned the entirety of Golden Age Superman. Moreover, I suddenly recalled my older brother’s long standing love of the Hulk and my mother’s use of Classics Illustrated in her classroom. I was compelled to not only resurrect this sense of community out of my personal shadows and bring it into the light but also support others in doing likewise for themselves.
Seventeen years later, while attending New York Comic Con, I was shyly approached by another Black woman who ostensibly wanted to compliment what I was wearing. But once she was within arms’ reach, she clasped my hands, teared up, and whispered “I’m so happy to see you here. For years, I’ve wanted to come to this con. But when I was growing up, no one who looked like me shared my passion—neither my friends nor my family—and I’ve been so lonely...until now.” Time and time again, I’ve heard similar stories from others who find themselves at the intersection of communities of color and nerdery. Each time deepens my understanding that growing up as I did in a profoundly nerdy home is a rare gift; too many of us have not found our ways yet to a fandom that fosters our passions and reflects our marginalized identities. Being a third place, libraries are perfectly positioned to help provide this kind of safe space in service to our communities.
Deimosa: I was diagnosed early, LOL. I spent my early years in gifted and talented classes, scoring in the highest percentile on citywide exams. To this day my father jokes that I am able “to read technical manuals”... But the truth is when I was a kid he was handing them to me.
I really didn’t have a choice in being a nerd. My parents had a family sign business and I had to work. During the 90s the sign business computerized and my father, who painted them when I was in elementary school, had to learn to design and cut signs out of vinyl lettering on a PC. I learned to do it with him, I was his apprentice, and I am a sign maker.
I can letter by hand or with a computer, make banners, silkscreen t-shirts, and stripe your car with your name across the window in a drop-shadow. My father taught me how to draw because we had to, and a little pop of art makes a sign interesting and gives it some character.
And the truth of the truth is, my father and I got a lot of our creative ideas from comics. The sign for POOOR FREDDIE’S MUDHOLE - a flat fix place - had letters connected to each other, matching the Masters of the Universe font:
Ultimately I tested into Hunter College High School, a nerd factory on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. And I bring this up because this is the experience that truly made and makes me a nerd… These alumnae are the contemporaries against which I constantly judge myself: Lin Manuel Miranda, Chris Hayes, Bobby Lopez, Immortal Technique, Kyle Baker (the cartoonist), Sewell Chan, Nicholas Confessore, Chris Jackson, Cynthia Nixon, Audre Lorde, Ruby Dee, Elena Kagan, and Young MC. At the age of twelve, I was immersed in an world where everyone wanted to go to Harvard, juniors cried in the hallway over their SAT scores, and seniors cried over not getting into Harvard. I don’t know if my friends were super aware of how much time I spent making signs and reading comics because those years were full, but I was among nerds. So there were people who shared my interests and got my references.
Ultimately I tested into Hunter College High School, a nerd factory on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. And I bring this up because this is the experience that truly made and makes me a nerd… These alumnae are the contemporaries against which I constantly judge myself: Lin Manuel Miranda, Chris Hayes, Bobby Lopez, Immortal Technique, Kyle Baker (the cartoonist), Sewell Chan, Nicholas Confessore, Chris Jackson, Cynthia Nixon, Audre Lorde, Ruby Dee, Elena Kagan, and Young MC. At the age of twelve, I was immersed in an world where everyone wanted to go to Harvard, juniors cried in the hallway over their SAT scores, and seniors cried over not getting into Harvard. I don’t know if my friends were super aware of how much time I spent making signs and reading comics because those years were full, but I was among nerds. So there were people who shared my interests and got my references.
As to why it’s so important for the BIPOC fandom to feel that their library is a nerd-friendly space, have you ever heard of imposter syndrome? Here are just a few reasons why I would be concerned right now about how I’m being judged for cosplaying a comic book character at a professional conference. Even as I answer this question, I could be worried that I am judged as or accused of:
- Not being the right color—too light or too dark—to do this character
- Not being the right body type to wear this costume
- Being the wrong gender to do a character
- Not knowing enough of the cosmology for a universe or not belonging in it (i.e. “There are no Black people in the future/Oz/Hogwarts/Panem/Middle Earth/Narnia/the Gamma Quadrant/the captain’s chair/Section 31…”
- Being juvenile for devoting as much time to comics, video games, or cosplay as others do to cable news or sports.
Question 3: What is your top recommendation for bolstering nerds’ sense of felt safety in the library and reducing their sense of marginalization?
Jean: Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable (within reason) to your patrons. Be courageous and embolden with your own nerdy uniqueness, as it may provide the demonstrative courage needed for those nerds you serve to step out. Part of feeling safe is feeling liked and treasured for the unique skills an individual brings to the table. Create specific programs that speak to nerds, whether that’s a comicon, graphic novel book fair, gameboard night, Anime Art, Action & Advocacy night (where it's everything anime: cosplay, art auction, panel discussion, and embracing the Asian influence in modern graphic visual arts). Decorate your library with nerd-friendly decor: I had a floating globe in my library, some folks have an aquarium. Since the release of Wakanda Forever, I want to build an underwater Namor themed world with Aztec and traditional Mexican Indigenous Art.
Christina: Sartorial outreach! I am a staunch proponent of signaling my nerdy presence via fashion choices. It’s a means of disrupting expectations and silently flying my nerd flag high - beaconing to the as yet unrevealed nerds in attendance and offering to connect with them. Furthermore, I am a vintage fashion enthusiast whose look is squarely rooted in the mid-twentieth century, so many of my cosplays pay homage to highly recognizable comic book characters as imagined through the fashion lens of the 40s, 50s, or 60s. Even though I’m not actually a superfan of traditional serial comics, being dressed as such often draws people in and affords me the opportunity to discuss nerd culture and the significance of comics librarianship as I practice it. To that end, I almost always cosplay at conferences I’m attending in a professional capacity whether they’re comic conventions, library conferences, or some other space where I am serving as an information science ambassador. What began as a whimsical tendency to participate in spirit days as a high school teacher has blossomed into a professional engagement strategy. So whether you simply don a Star Trek communicator or arrive in full Dora Milaje armor, I strongly encourage cosplaying while attending networking opportunities, during library programming, in celebration of special days, or whenever the mood strikes you.
Deimosa: I made a point of always dedicating one wall of my classrooms full of Black, Latinx, and Native students to comics, in order to clearly communicate their validity in the English literature cannon conversation, even if we weren’t reading them for homework. I didn’t say anything about why there were Naruto, Marvel, DC, Batman, and Lord of the Rings posters collaged over each other on the wall behind my desk. They were just there, as were the comics in the classroom library. The kids who loved comics felt seen, and the kids who didn’t would just say ‘Hey miss, you really like comics huh?’
In addition, I created a manga advisory group, aside from my teen advisory group, to assist me in collection development. One of our programs was a manga art expo - the idea of my teen library colleague - including a grand opening and silent auction. Most of it was fan art, but some was original. We used the library’s cut of the art sales to purchase more manga for the collection. My colleague made a slide show with the history of manga and we served japanese candy and snacks from the local international food market. We also held a manga book swap - kids brought in their manga they were willing to trade, and I got a base foundation of books from the Comic Warehouse.
Jean: I speak at conferences like the Joint Conference of Librarians of Color (JCLC) and join roundtables for young adult and graphic novel engagement with our communities. I create programming and decor based on nerd-like games, TV shows, and books. I dress up on movie release days that speak to my “inner nerd.” I ensure that my Spiderman: Miles Morales, Black Panther and Wonder Woman wardrobes are carefully curated and worn various times throughout the year. When the Black Panther film released in 2018, I made sure an “understanding the moment” lesson showed up in the curriculum. Wakanda brought a fictional African culture into reality for the descendants of the former enslaved Africans. Though it’s all fantasy, the realism in attending the movie, in our cultural attire and with the proudness of technological advancements and the lack of colonial influence on screen, behind the scenes, and in the award-winning decor CEMENTED the realism for African Americans in our present reality. It hugged my “inner nerd" in an overwhelming sense of acceptance that I never had publicly. That’s how I leverage supporting the nerd community: emboldened and fearlessly...like our Ancestors had to do in the face of adversity. As the adage goes, we were the seeds our Ancestors planted and nourished with their blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice.
Christina: Since more and more libraries are finding that once a graphic novel collection reaches a certain critical mass it often becomes the highest circulating collection in the entire library - with the average graphic novel out-circulating all but the most popular young adult prose titles, I strategically position myself as an ambassador in an effort to bridge the fandom and the library ecosystem - two seemingly disparate spaces. Although this usually takes the form of reader advisory, collection development, content curation, and continuing education services, I am most enamored of offering library programming and services that really harnesses the energy of the fandom as a means of better serving our communities.
As a librarian at Round Rock High School, I was proud to help spearhead the debut of Central Texas Teen & Kids Comic Con. This event is a graphic novel and comic convention aimed at offering teens, kids, and educators the chance to interact with popular authors and illustrators, participate in workshops, and showcase their creativity. The con features a line-up of local creators and workshop presenters, and students have the opportunity to enter the art contest and cosplay contest. This FREE event has become a staple of the greater Austin community and now draws over 5,000 participants for the festivities. Being the event’s co-founder is an immense source of pride for me and has opened countless doors that allow me to continue this work.
Deimosa: My work is rooted in supporting the Native community. As an English teacher, I wanted to get students interested in and comfortable with reading for fun, so NCBS started out as an extracurricular club in my classroom at NACA. Then, we tabled at Indigenous Comic Con and ran a survey. We need to get it published but where is the time?
Now that I’m at Scholastic, I’ve been able to continue this work on a different scale. I serve as the point of contact who connects the Indigicon organizer to our marketing team in order to sponsor the kids area, providing some posters and giveaways. In addition, I’m able to connect my colleagues to creators—such as Chris Newell and Weshoyote Alvitre—for illustrations and content in new books. Finally, I put Native literature in the collection, including comics, to circulate for pleasure reading or reference needs of Scholastic colleagues.
In conclusion, thank you to my fellow panelists, JCLC, and the audience for making space for BIPOC nerds! Jean best expressed the significance of our time together, reflecting that
“Wakanda brings humanity to our narrative that Black folks still haven't
Jean Darnell
“Wakanda brings humanity to our narrative that Black folks still haven't
had an opportunity to tell from our own mouths. However, this session
CONTINUED the dialogue from the movie screen to professional
development at JCLC, a diversely driven organization. [This] session
echoed the cultural achievements of Black Panther and Wakanda Forever,
by uniting our efforts to ensure that the multifacetedness of humans and
our stories reach the zenith of society exposure through books, film, and
education.”
***
Jean Darnell
Christina Taylor, MSIS, is a veteran information specialist and educator who helps learners advance their literacy skills and critical thinking practice. Christina has been an English Language Arts teacher and school librarian, and after twenty-one years in public education she joined the Continuing Education and Consulting team at the Texas State Library and Archives Commission as the Youth Services Consultant where she helps ensure Texas libraries are knowledgeable about and have the resources to implement youth services that meet the needs of their communities. Christina passionately supports historically under-served populations in her community: she’s former President of the Board of Directors for Girls Rock Austin, former Chair of the Texas Maverick Graphic Novel Reading List Committee, Co-founder of the Central Texas Teen & Kids Comic Con, Chair-Elect for the Texas Library Association’s Young Adult Round Table, and Vice President of Social Media for Reading With Pictures. For more information, follow her at https://www.christinaetaylor.net/follow
Thank you for this post! I loved this experience so much that re-living it through reading your post just reignited my nerdy spirit all over again. I pray we get the chance to encapsulate some magical moments for another PD session sometime soon. Until then be quirky, fearless & loving to the many types of nerds in the library community! 💜
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