“Who would guess," he teased, "that I'd ever see you on a rooftop with straw in your hair?"
Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?"
"Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?”
Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?"
"Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?”
***
Kit Tyler is one among the many beloved children’s books protagonists who doesn’t quite fit in the world around her. Displaced from her home in sunny Barbados, to the cold, puritan New England, The Witch of Blackbird Pond is the story of not just conformity and individuality, but of Kit’s navigation of personal identity in regards to her surroundings. For the most part, books like these feature an individualistic protagonist who must learn to navigate a “new normal” which is usually an oppressive institution or environment. Puritan New England is a prime example of this kind of new normal. For the young child reading this book, their New England is school, a new town, church, and other status quo establishments. As a kid reading this book, I identified all too easily with Kit. Craving warmth, understanding, diversity, and acceptance, I cared only for this girl and her older friend who were being accused of witchcraft. “Witch” became synonymous for counter-culture, unique, interesting, me. These narratives of witches among masses validated the moments when I couldn’t sit still in class, when I chose to read Harry Potter during sacrament meeting, or when I neglected my homework so I could play outside. Instead of understanding these things as normal aspects of childhood, I thought they were special parts of my identity, meant to be protected from the adult world and harsh institutions. Kit’s story made it clear that being a sparrow is the worst thing you could be.
Diversity, boiled down to it, is only Me and the Other. Children’s media that deals with themes of diversity, often neglects the Other, instead focusing on telling children that it’s okay to be Me. I can’t imagine any child reading The Witch of Blackbird Pond and identifying with the Puritans, or reading Harry Potter and wanting to be a muggle. Children want to be witches, they want to be anything but the status quo. At least I did. Instead of understanding institutions as man-made establishments that can be altered, I understood them as corrupted, unmoving monoliths that I must reject for my own personal identity. Instead of addressing the issues of public education, I decided to do my learning outside it, just like Kit is eventually unable to compromise her identity with the status quo and decides to return to Barbados. While The Witch of Blackbird Pond was and still is one of my favorite and most important children’s books, I understand now reading it as an adult that while it was nice to relate to tales of other “witches,” it might have been more productive, and more truly diverse, to better understand “the Other” rather than tales about “Me.” An example of media that I think better handles diversity, is Gabriel Axel’s Babette’s Feast, similarly about an outsider in a Puritan town. Instead of rejecting the status quo and flocking to those like her, Babette loves and transforms those around her, ultimately understanding the Other and never fighting them, but rather sharing a beautiful feast with them. This film celebrates both sides, celebrates true diversity, while still questioning the status quo and dealing with the same issues of individuality and conformity.
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