Revisions to THE CASE FOR LOVING

Earlier this year, The Case for Loving: The Fight for Interracial Marriage, by Selina Alko, illustrated by Alko and Sean Qualls, was published by Arthur A. Levine Books. It got starred reviews from Kirkus and Publisher's Weekly. The reviewer at Horn Book gave it a (2), which means the review was printed in The Horn Book Magazine. 

The review from The New York Times and my review, were mixed, and as I'll describe later, may be the reasons revisions were made to the second printing of the book.

Let's start with the synopsis for The Case for Loving:

For most children these days it would come as a great shock to know that before 1967, they could not marry a person of a race different from their own. That was the year that the Supreme Court issued its decision in Loving v. Virginia.

This is the story of one brave family: Mildred Loving, Richard Perry Loving, and their three children. It is the story of how Mildred and Richard fell in love, and got married in Washington, D.C. But when they moved back to their hometown in Virginia, they were arrested (in dramatic fashion) for violating that state's laws against interracial marriage. The Lovings refused to allow their children to get the message that their parents' love was wrong and so they fought the unfair law, taking their case all the way to the Supreme Court - and won!

On Feb 6, 2015, The New York Times reviewer, Katheryn Russell-Brown, wrote:

Alko’s calm, fluid writing complements the simplicity of the Lovings’ wish — to be allowed to marry. Some of the wording, though, strikes a sour note. “Richard Loving was a good, caring man; he didn’t see differences,” she writes, suggesting, implausibly, that he did not notice Mildred’s race. After Mildred is identified as part black, part Cherokee, we are told that her race was less evident than her small size — that town folks mostly saw “how thin she was.” This language of colorblindness is at odds with a story about race. In fact, this story presents a wonderful chance to address the fact that noticing race is normal. It is treating people better or worse on the basis of that observation that is a problem.

And on March 18, 2015, I wrote a long review, focusing on Mildred Jeter's identity. I concluded with this:

In The Case for Loving, Alko uses "part African-American, part Cherokee" but I suspect Jeter's family would object to what Alko said. As the 2004 interview indicates, Mildred Jeter Loving considered herself to be Rappahannock. Her family identifies as Rappahannock and denies any Black heritage. This, Coleman writes, may be due to politics within the Rappahannock tribe. A 1995 amendment to its articles of incorporation states that stated (p. 166):

“Applicants possessing any Negro blood will not be admitted to membership. Any member marrying into the Negro race will automatically be admonished from membership in the Tribe.”

I'm not impugning Jeter or her family. It seems to me Mildred Jeter Loving was caught in some of the ugliest racial politics in the country. As I read Coleman's chapter and turn to the rest of her book, I am unsettled by that racial politics. In the final pages of the chapter, Coleman writes (p. 175):

"Of course, Mildred had a right to self-identify as she wished and to have that right respected by others. Nevertheless, viewed within the historical context of Virginia in general and Central Point in particular, ironically, “the couple that rocked courts” may have inadvertently had more in common with their opponents than they realized. Mildred’s Indian identity as inscribed on her marriage certificate and her marriage to Richard, a White man, appears to have been more of an endorsement of the tenets of racial purity rather than a validation of White/ Black intermarriage as many have supposed."

Turning back to The Case for Loving, I pick it up and read it again, mentally replacing Cherokee with Rappahannock and holding all this racial politics in my head. It makes a difference.

At this moment, I don't know what it means for this picture book. One could argue that it provides children with an important story about history, but I can also imagine children looking back on it as they grow up and thinking that they were misinformed--not deliberately--but by those twists and turns in racial politics in the United States of America.

Fast forward to last week (November 4, 2015), when I learned that changes were made to The Case for Loving in its second printing. Here's a photo of the copyright page for the two books. Look at the second line from the bottom in the top image. See the string of numbers that starts at 10 and goes on down to 1? That string is data. The lowest numeral in the string is 1, which tells us that the book with the 1 is the original. Now look at the second line from the bottom in the bottom image. See the string of numbers ends with numeral 2? That tells us that is the 2nd printing.

I learned about the second printing by watching Daniel Jose Older's video, Full Panel: Lens of Diversity: It is Not All in What You See. Sean Qualls, illustrator of The Case for Loving was also on that panel, which was slated as an opportunity to talk about Rudine Sims Bishop's idea of literature as windows, mirrors, and doors, framed around Sophie Blackall's art for the New York public transit system. The moderator and panel organizer, Susannah Richards, said that she saw people using social media to say that they thought they say themselves in Blackall's art. (To read more about the discussions of Blackall's picture book, A Fine Dessert, see Not recommended: A Fine Dessert.)

At approximately the 34:00 minute mark in Older's video, Richards began to speak about The Case for Loving and how Qualls and Alko addressed concerns about the book. Richards had a power point slide ready comparing a page in the original book with a page in the revised edition. It is similar to the one I have here (in her slide, she has the revised version at the top and the original on the bottom):

Qualls said "So, part of what happened is... There is a page with a description of Mildred and Richard." Qualls then read the revised page and the original one, too: "Richard was a tall quiet man with fair skin and broad shoulders. The person he loved most was Mildred Jeter. Mildred was part African-American, part Native American, and she was thin as a rail; that's how she got the nickname, String Bean. Richard Loving was a good, caring man; he didn't see differences. There was one person Richard loved more than the rest. Mildred Jeter was part African-American, part Cherokee, but what most folks in Central Point noticed was how thin she was; that's how she got the nickname, "String Bean."

Reese's photo of original (on top) and revised (on bottom) page in THE CASE FOR LOVING

For now, I'm going to step away from the video and Quall's remarks in order to compare the original lines on the page with the revised ones:

(1)
Original: Richard Loving was a good, caring man; he didn't see differences.
Revision: Richard Loving was a tall, quiet man with fair skin and broad shoulders.

See that change? "he didn't see differences" is gone. This, I think, is the result of Russell-Brown (of the Times) saying that him not seeing difference was implausible, especially since this book is about race.

(2)
Original: There was one person Richard loved more than the rest.
Revision: The person he loved most was Mildred Jeter.

I don't know what that sentence was changed, and welcome your thoughts on it.

(3)
Original: Mildred Jeter was part African-American, part Cherokee...
Revision: Mildred was part African-American, part Native American...

In my review back in March, I said it was wrong to describe her as being part Cherokee, because on the application for a marriage license (dated May 24, 1958), she stated she was Indian. I assume the change to "Native American" rather than "Indian" was done because the person(s) weighing in on the change thought that "Indian" was pejorative. It can be, depending on how it is used, but I use it in the name of my site and it is used by national associations, too, like the National Congress of American Indians or the National Indian Education Association or the American Indian Library Association.

I think it would have been better to use Indian--and nothing else--because that is what Jeter used. "Native American" didn't come into use until the 1970s, as indicated at the Bureau of Indian Affairs website and other sources I checked. In order to tell this story as determined by the Supreme Court case, Alko and Qualls had to include "part African American" because that is the basis on which the case went to the Supreme Court in the first place. I'll say more about all of this below.

(4)
Original: ...but what most folks in Central Point noticed was how thin she was;
Revision: ...and she was thin as a rail;

I think this change is similar to (1). People do notice race.

(5)
Original: ...that's how she got the nickname, "String Bean."
Revision: ...that's how she got the nickname, "String Bean."

No change there, which is fine.

~~~~~~~~~

Now I want to return to the video, and look more closely at (3) -- how Alko and Qualls describe Jeter.

After reading aloud the original and revised passage, Qualls paused. The moderator, Susannah Richards, stepped in. Here's a transcript:

Richards: "Research is complicated, and in researching this particular book, and looking... And even having some of my law friends look at it, they were like 'well some things say she was Cherokee and some things say she was wasn't, some things say her birth certificate said this,' and... There was just a lot of information out there."

Qualls: "Right. And I think that Deborah..."

Richards: "Debbie Reese."

Qualls: "Debbie Reese..."

Richards: "Who many of you may follow on her blog."

Qualls: "Really brought issue with the Cherokee description of Mildred, and, I have spoken to at least some family members and no one really seems to know whether she was Cherokee or Rappahannock. And I think there are some... Debbie Reese may have said, or somewhere I read, that Mildred claimed not to have any African American heritage. But then I've also read that the Rappahannock Nation is less likely to recognize someone as Rappahannock if they claim to have any African American heritage. We're also talking about the 1950s and 1960s where it may have been convenient for someone to claim that they had no African American heritage. James Brown, of all people, claimed he was part Japanese, part Native American, and had no African American heritage. So, it is extremely loaded, and yeah, you know, I really don't know what to say about it. And, it comes down to ones intention, and you know, in trying to represent diversity, and the fact is, no one really knows what her back ground was. I believe that she was part African American. My gut tells me that. She looks that way, she feels that way when I see her, when I see videos of her. So, yeah, that became a little bit of a controversy and was very disturbing to my wife, who is Canadian in origin, and the fact that you're Australian, you know, its very interesting. There are two people that I know that include and have always included African Americans in their art, and without question, that's really important, I think.    

Qualls is right, of course. I did raise a question about them identifying Jeter as Cherokee.

I'm curious about his next comment, that he has spoken to family members who say that no one really knows whether she was Cherokee or Rappahannock. In my review, I quoted Coleman's 2004 interview of Jeter, in which she said "I am not Black. I have no Black ancestry. I am Indian-Rappahannock." I didn't include this passage (below) but am including it now--not as a deliberate attempt to argue with Qualls--but because I am committed to helping people understand Native nationhood and how Native people speak of their identity. Coleman writes (p. 173):

The American Indian identity is strong within the Loving family as demonstrated by Mildred’s grandson, Marc Fortune, the son of her daughter Peggy Loving Fortune. When Mildred Loving’s son, Donald, died unexpectedly on August 31, 2000, Marc, according to one attendee, arrived at his uncle’s funeral dressed in native regalia and performed a “traditional Rappahannock” ritual in honor of his deceased uncle. In fact, all of the Loving children are identified as Indian on their marriage licenses. During an interview on April 10, 2011, Peggy Loving stated that she is “full Indian.” This was also the testimony of her uncle, Lewis Jeter, Mildred’s brother who stated during an interview on July, 20, 2011, that the family was Indian and not Black. Echoing his sister’s words he stated, “We have no Black ancestry that I know of.”

Based on all I've read and many conversations with people who do not understand the significance of saying you're a member or citizen of a specific tribe, here's what I think is going on.

In watching videos of Jeter, Qualls said that he believes Jeter was part African American. In the video, he said "She looks that way, she feels that way when I see her, when I see videos of her." He is basing that, I believe, on her physical appearance rather than on her own words about her citizenship in the Rappahannock Nation. Qualls is conflating a racial identity with a political one.

I'm not critical of Qualls for thinking that way. I think most Americans would think and say the same thing he did. That is because Native Nationhood is not taught in schools. It should be, and it should be part of children's books, too, because our membership or citizenship in our nations is a fact of who we are. Indeed, it is the most significant characteristic of who we are, collectively. It is why our ancestors made treaties with leaders of other nations. It is why we, today, have jurisdiction of our homelands.

All across the U.S., there are peoples of varying physical appearance who are citizens of a Native nation. My paternal grandfather is white. He was not a tribal member. My dad and my uncle are tribal members. Myself and my siblings, though we range in appearance (I have the darkest hair and skin tone amongst us), are all tribal members. On the federal census, we say we're tribal members and we specify our nation as Nambe Pueblo. Our political identity is a Native one. Because of our grandfather, some of us look like we're mixed bloods, because we are, but when asked, we say we are tribal members, and we say that, too, on the U.S. census documents. We were raised at Nambe and we participate in a range of tribally-specific activities, from ceremonies to civic functions such as community work days and elections. What we look like, physically, is not important.  

In short, the revision regarding Jeter's identity is based on a physical description rather than a political one. My speculation: the author, illustrator, and their editor do not know enough about Native nationhood to understand why that distinction matters.

Now let's take a look at the content of the reviews.

The reviewers at School Library Journal, Kirkus echoed the book, saying that Mildred was African American and Cherokee. The reviewer at Publisher's Weekly did not say anything about her identity. Horn Book's reviewer said "Richard Loving (white) and Mildred Jeter (black) fell in love and married..." Not surprisingly, then, that the Horn Book reviewer tagged it with "African Americans" as a subject, and not Native American, but I'm curious why they ignored her Native identity? Did they choose to view the Loving case as one about interracial marriage between a White man and Black woman--as the Loving's lawyers did? Perhaps.

In Older's video, he says that there are some stories that he wouldn't touch. I think the Loving case is one that is more complicated than a picture book for young children can do justice to. Here's key points, from my point of view:

In the 1950s, Mildred Jeter said she was Indian. We don't know if she said that out of a desire to avoid being discriminated against, or if she said that because she was already living her life as one in which she firmly identified as being Indian. Either way, it is what she said about who she was on the application for a marriage license.

In the 1960s, because Mildred Jeter and Richard Loving's marriage violated miscegenation laws, their case went before the Supreme Court of the United States. To most effectively present their case, the emphasis was on her being Black.

In the 2000s, Jeter and her children said they are Indian, and specified Rappahannock as their nation.

In the 2000s, Alko and Qualls met and fell in love.

In the 2010s, Alko and Qualls worked together on a picture book about the Lovings. In the author's note for The Case for Loving, Alko said that she's a white Jewish woman from Canada, and that Sean is an African American man from New Jersey. She said that much of her work is about inclusion and diversity and that it is difficult for her to imagine that just decades ago, couples like theirs were told by their governments, that their love was not lawful. For years, Alko writes, she and Qualls had thought about illustrating a book together. The Case for Loving is that book.

I think it is fair to say that the love they have for each other was a key factor in the work they did on The Case for Loving, but who they are is not who the Lovings were. That fact meant they could not--and can not--see Mildred for who she is.

My husband and I are also a couple in an interracial marriage. He's White; I'm Native. If we were an author/illustrator couple working in children's books and wanted to do a story about the Lovings, we'd enter it from a different place of knowing. We both know the importance of Native nationhood and the significance of Nambe's status as a sovereign nation. He didn't know much about Native people until he started teaching at Santa Fe Indian School, where we met in 1988 when I started teaching there. What we do not have is a lived experience or knowledge of the life of Mildred Jeter as she lived her life in the 1950s in Virginia. We'd be doing a lot of research in order to do justice to who she was.

At the end of his remarks (in the video) about The Case for Loving, Qualls said that it comes down to intentions, and that his wife and Sophie Blackall are very careful to include diversity in their work. He said he thinks it is important. I don't think anyone would disagree with that statement. Diversity is important. But, as his other remarks indicate, he's since learned how complicated the discussion of Jeter's identity were, then and now, too. They've revised that page in the book but as you may surmise, I think the revision is still a problem.

I like the art very much and think it is important for young children to know about the Lovings and families in which the parents are of two different demographics. I'll give some thought to how it could be revised so that it sets the record straight, and I welcome your thoughts (and do always let me know--as usual--about typos or parts of what I've said that lack clarity or are confusing).

Pick up a copy of That the Blood Stay Pure: African Americans, Native Americans, and the Predicament of Race and Identity in Virginia, published in 2013 by Indiana University Press. Read the chapter on the Lovings, and read Alko and Qualls and see what you think. Can it be revised again? How?

THE CASE FOR LOVING by Selina Alko and Sean Qualls, but, what to do with what Jeter said about her identity?

Eds. note: See information about the second printing of the book, which was revised. 

New this year (2015) is The Case for Loving: The Fight for Interracial Marriage by Selina Alko. Illustrations are by Alko and her husband, Sean Qualls.

The author's note tells us that Alko is a "white Jewish woman from Canada" and that Qualls is an "African-American man from New Jersey."

The story of Mildred Jeter and Richard Loving resonated with Alko and Qualls. Their case went before the United States Supreme Court in 1967. Here's the synopsis posted at Scholastic's website:

For most children these days it would come as a great shock to know that before 1967, they could not marry a person of a race different from their own. That was the year that the Supreme Court issued its decision in Loving v. Virginia.

This is the story of one brave family: Mildred Loving, Richard Perry Loving, and their three children. It is the story of how Mildred and Richard fell in love, and got married in Washington, D.C. But when they moved back to their hometown in Virginia, they were arrested (in dramatic fashion) for violating that state's laws against interracial marriage. The Lovings refused to allow their children to get the message that their parents' love was wrong and so they fought the unfair law, taking their case all the way to the Supreme Court — and won!

The Loving case is of interest to me, too. We all ought to embrace its outcome. As the synopsis indicates, the story is about the love Jeter and Loving had for each other, and how, using the court system, laws against their desire to be married were struck down. We need to know that history. It is important. In her review in the New York Times, Katheryn Russell-Brown noted its strengths. She also said something I agree with:

Alko’s calm, fluid writing complements the simplicity of the Lovings’ wish — to be allowed to marry. Some of the wording, though, strikes a sour note. “Richard Loving was a good, caring man; he didn’t see differences,” she writes, suggesting, implausibly, that he did not notice Mildred’s race. After Mildred is identified as part black, part Cherokee, we are told that her race was less evident than her small size — that town folks mostly saw “how thin she was.” This language of colorblindness is at odds with a story about race. In fact, this story presents a wonderful chance to address the fact that noticing race is normal. It is treating people better or worse on the basis of that observation that is a problem.

As Russell-Brown noted, the "language of colorblindedness" doesn't work.  As a grad student in the 90s, I read research that found that the colorblind approach sent the opposite message to young children.

The Case for Loving also provides us with an opportunity to look at identity and claims to Native identity.

When I first learned that Alko and Qualls presented Mildred Jeter as part Cherokee (as shown in the image to the right), I started doing some research on her and the case. In some places I saw her described as Cherokee. In a few others, I saw her described as Cherokee and Rappahannock. That made me more intrigued! In the midst of that research, I also re-read Cynthia Leitich Smith's Rain Is Not My Indian Name and really appreciate--and recommend it--for lots of reasons, including how Smith wrote about Black Indians.

I continued my research on Jeter and found a particularly comprehensive source: That the Blood Stay Pure: African Americans, Native Americans, and the Predicament of Race and Identity in Virginia by Arica L. Coleman. It was published in 2013. Coleman's book has a chapter about Jeter.

Drawing from magazines, newspapers and court documents of that time and more recently, too, Coleman describes the twists and turns that impacted Mildred Jeter's identity. Most crucial to her chapter is information Jeter gave to her.

Jeter did not identify herself as Black. In an interview on July 14, 2004, she told Coleman (p. 153):

"I am not Black. I have no Black ancestry. I am Indian-Rappahannock." 

In The Case of Loving, we read about Mr. and Mrs. Loving going to Washington DC to get married, returning home to Virginia with their marriage license, and, being awoken late one night by the police who asked Richard what he was doing in bed with Jeter.

He pointed to their marriage certificate hanging on the wall.

The marriage certificate--an image of which is in Coleman's book--shows us columns for the male and female applying for the license. Here's the information in the female column:

Name: Mildred Delores Jeter
Color: Indian

She identified as Indian. In Central Point (that's the town they lived in), Coleman writes, there was a (page 161-162):

"racial hierarchy that granted social privileges to Whites, an honorary White privilege to Indians (i.e. access to White hospitals and the White only section of rail and street cars), and no social privilege to Blacks."

Isn't that fascinating? There's more. In 1870, Mildred's parents* the Jeter name was listed on census records as mulatto. By 1930, they* people with that name were identified as Negro. She was born in 1939. But, Coleman writes (p. 164):

The Jeter surname is also listed in the Rappahannock Tribe’s corporate charter (1974) as a tribal affiliate. Many claim, however, that the Jeters are descended from the Cherokee who allegedly began to intermarry with the Rappahannock during the late eighteenth century. According to one anonymous informant, “The situation regarding Indian identity in Caroline County is very complex. There was a time when many in the Rappahannock community believed that they were Cherokee because that was all they knew.” Neither Mildred nor her brother, Lewis Jeter, supported the claim that their father was Cherokee.

A 1997 article in the Free Lance-Star reports that she said she was Indian, with Portuguese and Black ancestry. In 2004 Coleman asked her about the Black ancestry, prefacing her question with a reference to the Rappahannock's historic association with Blacks, Jeter told Coleman that the Rappahannock's never had anything to do with Blacks.

That denial of Black ancestry is striking, particularly since the Supreme Court case was based on her being Black. If I understand Coleman's research, Jeter thought of herself as Indian when she married Loving. When their case went before the Supreme Court, she was regarded as Black. In the last years of her life, she said she was Indian. What was going on?

Her ACLU lawyers, Bernard Cohen and Philip Hirschkop, and Virginia's Assistant Attorney General, Robert McIlwaine--needed her to be Black. Her Indian identity had the potential to derail the arguments they were putting forth.

See, there was an act in Virginia called the "Racial Integrity Act" that was intended to preserve the purity of the White race. In early drafts of that act, white meant a person having only Caucasian blood. But that definition was replaced by the "Pocahontas Exception." The Racial Integrity Act was passed in 1924.

When I read "Pocahontas Exception" --- well, I think it fair to say that my eyebrows shot up and that I leaned towards the screen (reading an e-copy of the book)! What is THAT?!

The Pocahontas Exception allowed Whites to claim to be white, as long as they had no more than 1/16 of the blood of an American Indian.

Chief Justice Earl Warren was presiding over the Loving case. Presumably, he knew about her Indian identity and therefore asked about the Pocahontas Exception. I hope I am correct in my reading of Coleman's research when I say that Warren let it go when he heard McIlwaine's reply to his questions. The law, McIlwaine argued, did not apply to this case because Virginia had two populations of significance to its legislature: a bit over 79% were white and a bit over 20% were colored; therefore, the number of Native people (at less than 1%) was insignificant. Moreover (p. 170):

It is a matter of record, agreed to by all counsel during the course of this litigation and in the brief that one of the appellants here is a white person within the definition of the Virginia law, the other appellant is a colored person within the definition of Virginia law. 

Significant/insignificant are my word choices. McIlwaine didn't use them and neither did Coleman. They are words that resonate with Native people because research studies on race typically have an asterisk rather than data for us, because relative to other demographics, we are deemed too small to count. Indeed, a group of Native scholars have written a book about some of this, titled Beyond the Asterisk: Understanding Native Students in Higher Education. 

With intricate detail, Coleman documents how the news media was hit-or-miss in terms of what reporters said about Jeter's race. One day it was "negro" and the next--in the same paper--it was "half negro, half Indian" and then later on, it was back to "negro." In the final analysis, Coleman writes, writers generally describe her as an "ordinary Black woman" (p. 173).

In The Case for Loving, Alko uses "part African-American, part Cherokee" but I suspect Jeter's family would object to what Alko said. As the 2004 interview indicates, Mildred Jeter Loving considered herself to be Rappahannock. Her family identifies as Rappahannock and denies any Black heritage. This, Coleman writes, may be due to politics within the Rappahannock tribe. A1995 amendment to its articles of incorporation states that stated (p. 166):

“Applicants possessing any Negro blood will not be admitted to membership. Any member marrying into the Negro race will automatically be admonished from membership in the Tribe.”

I'm not impugning Jeter or her family. It seems to me Mildred Jeter Loving was caught in some of the ugliest racial politics in the country. As I read Coleman's chapter and turn to the rest of her book, I am unsettled by that racial politics. In the final pages of the chapter, Coleman writes (p. 175):

Of course, Mildred had a right to self-identify as she wished and to have that right respected by others. Nevertheless, viewed within the historical context of Virginia in general and Central Point in particular, ironically, “the couple that rocked courts” may have inadvertently had more in common with their opponents than they realized. Mildred’s Indian identity as inscribed on her marriage certificate and her marriage to Richard, a White man, appears to have been more of an endorsement of the tenets of racial purity rather than a validation of White/ Black intermarriage as many have supposed.

Turning back to The Case for Loving, I pick it up and read it again, mentally replacing Cherokee with Rappahannock and holding all this racial politics in my head. It makes a difference.

At this moment, I don't know what it means for this picture book. One could argue that it provides children with an important story about history, but I can also imagine children looking back on it as they grow up and thinking that they were misinformed--not deliberately--but by those twists and turns in racial politics in the United States of America.

Published in 2015 by Arthur A. Levine, I do not recommend The Case for Loving. 

~~~~~

Updates to add relevant items shared by others:

Kara Stewart pointed me to a news story from a Virginia TV station:
Doctor's quest to engineer a 'master race' in the early 1900s still hurting Virginia Indian tribes 

Kara's comment prompted me to search for information on the Racial Integrity Act. I found that the Library of Virginia has a page about it.


Update, March 18, 7:25 PM:
Just saying again---you must get a copy of Coleman's book. In other chapters, she talks about the Pocahontas Exception and how it was written to accommodate "the White elite who said they were descendants of the Indian princess Pocahontas and the English colonist John Rolfe." Here's one excerpt (p. 5):

It shall hereafter be unlawful for any white person in this State to marry any save a white person, or a person with no other admixture of blood than white and American Indian. For the purpose of this act, the term “white person” shall apply only to the person who has no trace whatsoever of any blood other than Caucasian; but persons who have one-sixteenth or less of the blood of the American Indian and have no other non-Caucasic blood shall be deemed to be white persons. 

*Update, March 23, 12:05 PM:
Professor Coleman read my review and noted an error in what I said. I've used the cross-out option to indicate what is wrong and inserted the correct information. Mulatto/Negro were specific to the Jeter name, not to Mildred's Jeter's parents.

Arica L. Coleman's review of Patricia Hruby Powell's LOVING VS. VIRGINIA - Not recommended

Loving Vs. Virginia: A Documentary Novel of the Landmark Civil Rights Case (Advanced Copy) 

By Patricia Hruby Powell; illustrated by Shadra Strickland 

Publisher: Chronicle Books, 2017 

Reviewed by Arica L. Coleman, Ph.D. 

Not Recommended

Opening

Patricia Hruby Powell has written a young adult documentary novel to commemorate the 50th anniversary of this landmark Supreme Court decision in which the nine justices unanimously overturned anti-miscegenation laws (state proscriptions against interracial marriage) declaring such laws unconstitutional. 

I learned of Powell’s book a couple of months prior to its release while conducting a Google search. I reached out to the author in a comment on her blog which featured the book's cover, stating "I cannot wait to read your book. Here is a link to my work on the Lovings. There are additional links to other articles and my book!" Powell responded, stating, "you know I've read your chapter," meaning the chapter on Loving in my book That the Blood Stay Pure and she graciously sent me an advanced copy stating in an email: 

“I look forward to your reading my book as well. And how I addressed the issue of Sydney Jeter.”  

The book received excellent advanced reviews on Goodreads and has since been highly recommended by School Library Journal, Kirkus Reviews, and many other reputable experts of young adult literature. My review, however, will focus on the book’s merit as a historical text. While the conceptualization and execution of the work is noteworthy, its title claim as a documentary novel, I believe, is oversold, given Powell's penchant to ignore historical facts and her inability to place the work within its proper context of interracial marriage in the U.S. The essay is structured using the hackneyed phrase “the good, the bad, and the ugly.” First. . .

The Good

Powell’s documentary novel is an attractive oversized book with the author’s first person poetic prose set in large easy-to-read print. Much of the book has been typeset with the traditional black letters attractively spaced on white pages. Yet, interspersed throughout the book are black and white photos, and black pages with white lettering to emphasize major historical events that add to the beauty of this work. The illustrations of renowned picture book artist Shadra Strickland adds value to this aesthetically pleasing product. 

The book is well organized with a focus on the years 1955-1968. Those familiar with southern culture can easily imagine themselves at a gathering on the Loving’s front porch in rural Central Point, Virginia listening to the victorious plaintiffs take turns recounting the pains and triumphs against racialized state imposed marriage sanctions. The book’s structure is reminiscent of James McBride’s classic work The Color of 

Water.[1]

Screen captures of the narrative structure

In Loving Vs. Virginia, the narrative fluctuates beginning with Mildred, then Richard, then Mildred again. 

This pattern repeats, until the confluence of their narratives joins at the point of their marriage in Washington D.C., where it is spread out over several pages and then resumes the earlier pattern for the remainder of the book. 

Powell’s splendid writing style shines through in this work. The prose is lyrical with a flow and pace that makes the reader glide from one page to the next.  

The Bad

First, the salient problem with Powell’s book is that she characterizes the work as a “documentary novel.” In her blog post, "Documentary Novel vs Historical Fiction," writer Susan Santiago describes three definitions for "documentary novel." She also writes that Loving Vs. Virginia is only the second book she's seen that claims to be a documentary novel. Hence Powell's book would have benefited from an author’s note with a clear definition of the term and how her work fits within that definition. 

Second, assuming that Santiago’s first definition of the term, "True event + real people told in a narrative format" is the one Powell would use, there is very little primary material in Powell’s book which directly relates to the Loving case. While the majority of the photos and quotes are related to the issue of segregation and the Civil Rights Movement, the author does not adequately connect the dots to demonstrate how such events as Brown v. the Board of Education, King’s "I Have a Dream" speech, the signing of the Voting Rights Act or the Freedom Rides directly relate to the issue of miscegenation, Virginia, or the Loving case. In other words, her fictionalized narrative has little to no direct connection to the documentary “evidence” much of which reflects her own interpretations of historical events. 

Third, and this relates to the issue of documentation and its lack of specificity, Powell provides a 1958 map of the United States with the states with anti-miscegenation laws colored in gray; however, the states are not labeled; although she acknowledges that one of the Virginia counties closed its public schools for five years rather than integrate, she does not identity the location as Prince Edward County. 

Fourth, documents that are a must for this book such as The Racial Integrity Act, The Loving Supreme Court decision, the Loving’s District of Columbia Marriage License, and Mildred’s 1963 letter to the ACLU are absent.[2] The latter two documents are most important as they establish the fact that Mildred self-identified as Indian. That they were not included is a gross oversight which I will address in the next section.

The Ugly

Powell’s choice to tell this story in the first person narrative is a cautionary tale. The salient problem with this point of view is that the author’s biases and assumptions are imposed on the speakers. This problem occurs very early in the first chapter which is Mildred’s biographical narrative. There, the reader learns about her family life. Mildred identified an older sibling by noting his etched name in her school desk. “There’s J.J.,” who she assumes is “my much older half-brother James Jeter." She identified three additional half-brothers later in the chapter and explained (p. 24), “What makes them half-brothers is their mama. Daisy. She died. And then Daddy married our mama.”[3]

It is indeed understandable that Powell wanted to get across the fact that the Jeters were a blended family, but she imposed a eurocentric definition of family on southern people of color who do not quantify familial relations. In addition, Powell imposed a family history on the Jeters based on assumption, but an assumption that is inaccurate (p. 18): 

Our Jeter ancestors have lived here

in Central Point

for centuries,

hunting and fishing.

Daddy and Mama

are both part Indian.

We are also descended

from African slaves.

And their owners. 

While the Jeters ancestral roots are Indian, European, and African, there is no evidence that the Jeters were descended from slaves. In fact, Mildred’s father, Theoliver Jeter was descended from a line of white and free women of color (African, Indian or both) that stretch back at least to the 1760s. 

Moreover, Powell’s causal mention of the Jeter’s Indian ancestry on several occasions throughout the text at once acknowledges and erases Mildred’s Indian identity as the aforementioned example demonstrates. Another example is her characterization of Central Point as a tri-racial harmonious community as demonstrated by the statement (p. 28): “If I stop and watch I see . . . Indians, Negroes, Whites—all mixed together. . .Whites and coloreds—we go to different schools . . . churches, drink out of different water fountains. But our section is different.” 

Powell relies on outdated information which constructed Central Point as a colorblind society, a narrative begun by famed African American journalist Simeon Booker in his feature article on the Lovings not long after their Supreme Court win.[4]

Yet, as my work demonstrates, new information highlighting inter and intra-racial tensions in the small rural community of Central Point, tensions which persist to this day, called for a reevaluation of Booker’s earlier conclusions. Again as demonstrated here and here, Central Point was a microcosm of the lived experience of racial politics in Virginia, the South, and indeed the nation. 

What is most unfortunate is that Powell does not provide Mildred adequate voice to explore her self-identity as an Indian woman. Case in point, when Mildred and Richard arrive in the District of Columbia to obtain a marriage license, Powell's depiction of their conversation is as follows. On the left is Mildred; on the right is Richard (p. 117):

This exchange is reminiscent of a dialogue between James McBride and his mother when he discovered that she was not, as he had long suspected, the light skinned black woman she had always claimed to be, but was in fact an Ashkenazi Jew who spoke fluent Yiddish. 

Powell’s scenario does not work and in fact seemed rather bizarre. I mean, what an awkward time to have a conversation or--as it seemed here--a debate about your future wife’s racial identity. Mildred’s race never mattered to Richard before. Why make it an issue now? Her racial self-identity was indeed full of complexity and intrigue. For example, in her 1963 letter to the ACLU Mildred stated, 

“I am writing to you concerning a problem we have . . . My husband is white and I am part negro, part indian.” 

On page 176, instead of providing her readers with the letter [5] which features Mildred’s own words in her own handwriting...  [Update on January 3, 2018: In response to a reader's request, I have inserted the text of the letter. Scroll to the bottom of the page to see it.]

... Powell chose to highlight a quote from King’s Letter from A Birmingham Jail. In doing that, Powell did something that many white writers do when they imagine real people as characters: she erased the very people to whom she claims to give voice. That Powell would use Mildred’s Indian heritage as mere honorable mentions rather than provide space for this woman of color to use her own words to explore a central aspect of her self-identity is most unfortunate.[6] 

The Uglier

Now to discuss Sidney Jeter. As demonstrated in my work on the Lovings (see endnote 6 and here), Mildred was already a mother when she and Richard began dating. Sidney was born in January 1957 which places his time of conception in April 1956. According to Powell’s time line, Richard and Mildred’s courtship began in November 1955. Five months later in an entry dated May 1956 Mildred stated (p. 72): 

“Didn’t see Richard for awhile. I missed him. But he’s coming steady again.” 

By September, Mildred, who was at least five months pregnant, was in a quandary over how to break the news to Richard which she does a month later after they attended a dance together. Keep in mind that by this time a very slim Mildred is at least six months pregnant. They are seated in his car when (p. 94), “I tell him,” she says. "I tell him everything." 

The problem is, the reader does not have a clue what Powell meant by “everything.” Was the pregnancy the result of a rape? Of a one night indiscretion? The reader is left to wonder. 

I find Powell’s handling of Sidney Jeter’s paternity unconscionable.  If she felt that this aspect of the story was too controversial for a teen audience, she should have left it alone. Since she chose to include it, then she should have simply told the truth rather than perform a slight of hand by attempting to adhere to a courtship timeline which has been adequately disproven.  Unfortunately she creates complication where truth and simplicity would have been sufficient. 

Even more unacceptable is Powell’s explanation for Richard’s resuming his relationship with Mildred whom she characterized as an innocent child in need of protection.  Speaking about leaving Mildred in the dark about their impending confrontation with the county Sheriff who was sure to arrest them when he learned of the couple’s marriage, Richard stated (p. 131), “I knew she was pretty innocent. Innocence what got her Sidney—sweet Sydney. Hell, I love her innocence.” Hmmm, riddle me this—What in the hell is Powell talking about? 

And more egregious still was Powell’s use of the N-word when speaking for the Sheriff who was present when the couple arrived for their hearing at the courthouse stating (p. 151): “There’s the white trash and his nigger.” Yet, earlier in the novel when the couple was pulled over by the Sheriff who, after admonishing Richard about speeding, stated (p. 102), “Now you take that little negress home where she belongs.” Why the change in language? The use of the N-word was/is unnecessary and offensive. The argument that the use of the word is necessary for historical accuracy does not hold water in this case as it was not a direct quote, but was deliberately placed there without regard for its detriment particularly to young readers of color.

Equally offensive is Powell's dialogue on Mildred's passing, in which she states (p. 81):
I'm not real dark--'bout the color of a grocery sack--and I have good hair, but I surely couldn't pass." Or the statement by a passerby who, when seeing Mildred and Richard arm-in-arm, says (p. 81) "Nice piece o'colored ass." It is clear that Powell gave no thought to the feelings of young girls of color when she chose to include these statements in her novel.*

The Conclusion of the Matter

I attempted to review this book several times since receiving it in late 2016, but my frustration with the text caused me to set it aside with the hope that when I resumed the effort, I would feel better about the work. I think I wrestled with this book these many months because deep down I wanted to like it. I recognize the tremendous time and effort Powell put into this work for which she is to be commended. Notwithstanding, good writing cannot substitute for accuracy in historical context and facts; and the pitfalls of the first person narrative are too glaring to ignore. Its subtitle as a “documentary novel” places a claimed authoritative validity on the work that requires a standard of execution that is higher than if it were categorized as historical fiction. Being bound by both professional and personal ethics requires that I provide an honest assessment. While I applaud the concept of the work, the lack of focus, historical inaccuracies, and the imposition of the author’s personal biases have derailed what could have been an excellent book.

---

[1] James McBride, The Color of Water: A Black Man’s Tribute to His Wife Mother (Riverhead Trade), 1997.

[2] What appears at the beginning of Powell’s book is the first page of a pamphlet issued by the Virginia State Registrar’s Office about the new Act to Preserve Racial Integrity. Text of the actual law appears on subsequent pages; documents relating directly to issues surrounding the Loving case are easily accessible via The Eugenics Archives in addition to other online sources.

[3] There is a gross imbalance between Mildred’s narrative in chapter one and Richard’s narrative in chapter two. The reader is provided extensive information about the Jeters, but nothing about the Lovings. In fact, it is Mildred, not Richard who introduces the reader to her in-laws. Where is the research on the original Mr. and Mrs. Loving?

[4] Simeon Booker, “The Couple That Rocked Courts,” Ebony Magazine, September 1967.

[5] Mildred's mention of the Attorney General appears to be an afterthought. There is no evidence of correspondence between Mrs. Loving and Bobby Kennedy. 

[6] For more on Mildred Loving’s racial identity see Arica L. Coleman, “ Beyond Black and White: Afro-Indian Identity in the Case of Loving V. Virginia,” in That the Blood Stay Pure: African Americans, Native Americans, and the Predicament of Race and Identity in Virginia (Indiana University Press, 2013), 151-176; and “Mildred Loving: The Extraordinary Life of An Ordinary Woman” in Virginia Women Their Lives and Times, Vol. 2 (University of Georgia Press, 2016), 313-319, for further discussion on the first-person-viewpoint see, https://americanindiansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/2015/09/deborah-wiles-debbie-reese-and-choosing.html.      


*This paragraph added on Jan 2, 2017.

Update, January 3, 2017
Here is the text of Jeter's letter:

1151 Neal St.
N.E. Wash. D.C.
June 20, 1968 

Dear sir: 

I am writing to you concerning a problem we have. 

Five yrs. ago my husband and I were married here in the District. We then returned to Va. to live. My husband is White, I am part negro, + part indian. 

At the time we did not know there was a law in Va. against mixed marriages. 

Therefore we were jailed and tried in a little town of Bowling Green. 

We were to leave the state to make our home. 

The problem is we are not allowed to visit our families. The judge said if we enter the state within the next 30 yrs., that we will have to send 1 yr. in jail. 

We know we can't live there, but we would like to go back once and awhile to visit our families + friends. 

We have 3 children and cannot afford an attorney. 

We wrote to The Attorney General, he suggested that we get in touch with you for advice. 

Please help us if you can. Hope to hear from you real soon. 

Yours truly,
Mr. + Mrs. Richard Loving

Update, Jan 10, 2018
See Debbie Reese's review of Powell's book.