Good books often get challenged because they challenge us in turn. If you look at
the list of most commonly challenged books in US libraries, you'll see classics of both adult and children's literature, Toni Morrison rubbing shoulders with Judy Blume, Vladimir Nabokov with S.E. Hinton, Margaret Atwood with Maurice Sendak. With a few exceptions ('Go Ask Alice'
is a pretty disingenuous book), it's practically a roll-call of honour.
And we all have a mental image of the challengers, don't we? Twinset and pearls, or perhaps a varsity sweatshirt. Probably a woman, an interfering mother who expects the whole of society to shield her child from reality, parochial, intolerant and rather stupid. A very easy and satisfying figure to hate on, really.
Which is why I was a little surprised to find myself writing to the BBC, challenging a children's show for - of all things - its values.
*cue bouncy music*
Mike the Knight, he's a brave young hero!
(Be a knight, do it right!)
He's a trainee knight, but does he show fear? No!
(Be a knight, do it right!)
There'll be trouble, double trouble,
But you know it's going to be all right,
'Cause every day is an adventure
For Mike the Knight...
Now, admittedly nostalgia is a powerful motivating force when it comes to children's entertainment. I was heartbroken when they changed the format of
Zingzillas. I was wary when they introduced
Abadas, purely because it was something new. (It turned out to be rather charming and I'm now fond of it.) The books and shows that entertain my son are important parts of his childhood, and my emotional attachment to them is consequently strong and a little conservative: the more he grows and changes, the cooler he gets, but changing his favourite shows triggers an instinctive resistance in me. But I know this isn't rational, and I try not to be silly about it.
So when, with literal and metaphorical fanfares,
CBeebies (the preschool channel produced by the BBC, generally of a very high standard), trotted Mike the Knight out of his stable, I was cautious but determined to be fair.
Here's the basic format of each show. Mike, a trainee knight with a supportive mother, an apparently absent knightly father and a trainee witch sister called Evie whose spells never work, is always looking for a quest. Something comes up, he exclaims 'By the king's crown, that's it!', and races off to make a quest of it - making a mess of it because he's more preoccupied with his fantasies of knighthood than with paying attention to his circumstances. He stops everyone crossing a bridge all day to protect them from a monster, for instance, when a little investigation would reveal it's just Evie's pet frog trapped down an echoing hole; he races off to make a quest of collecting Evie's birthday cake and getting it redesigned with knightly decorations, ignoring her trying to tell him that her preferred birthday treat would be to help him with a quest (because being allowed to play with your brother is obviously the height of a girl's ambitions); he decides to prove his pathfinding abilities, removes all the road signs and makes everyone get lost; and so on. After a while, he realises his mistake, declares, 'It's time to be a knight and do it right!' and fixes the mess he's made. Everyone stands in the background and applauds - a mostly white crowd with one or two token Asian-looking people. The Asian-looking bard sings of Mike's heroism, and we have the credits.
Which is why my letter to the BBC was headed: 'If you're white and male, you're a star even if you're wrong; if you're brown or female, you're background even if you're right.'
My complaint letter was, in short, written from a progressive point of view.
Here it is in full:
We are the parents of a white little boy, and are concerned about Mike the Knight. Complaining like this, we may sound like a politically correct cranks, but we love most of CBeebies: it's educational, fun, and full of good values, and our son has a great time watching it.
Mike the Knight is a disappointing exception. Where most of CBeebies shows make an effort to show diversity in a respectful way, Mike the Knight focuses heavily on a single character - a white boy, the category that we already have a million stories about. And the way it focuses on him is, to our eyes, destructive.
Yes, it's about doing it right in the end, and it clearly means well. But where most CBeebies shows appreciate the value of community, respect for difference and working together, Mike is fraught with entitlement: the plot is all about him making trouble because his status as an aspiring knight - a male role, we note, and are there any non-white knights? - makes him feel entitled to be the star, even if it means pushing himself to the centre when there's no need and failing to listen to other people who know better than him. Yes, he puts it right in the end - but through his own revelations, while female and brown people stand in the background playing a subordinate role. If you're not white and male, your prospective roles in this world are admiring rival, admiring sidekick, or admiring observer.
This is not a role we want our son to be modelled. Female and non-white people are his brothers and sisters, his co-stars, not his background, and we want him to feel comfortable with that. The world is already full of messages pushing the idea that white men are the stars and everyone else is background, and apart from encouraging prejudice and unrealistic expectations, it puts an unfair burden on white boys, implying that they're weak if they have to accept someone telling them they're wrong. Even the theme song - 'does he show fear? No!' - pushes old and destructive ideas about how men are supposed to be strong and occupy the leading role.
This is a set of values that discriminates against the many and isolates the few. The idea of a knight doing things right could be great if it took in the notion of true respect for others - why shouldn't Mike have knight friends who are female or of colour, for example? or sometimes find himself called upon when he has other things in mind than seeking attention? - but at the moment, on a channel that's usually progressive, Mike the Knight is decades out of date.
Justin Fletcher, the male presenters, the Piplings, the Zingzillas, Mr Bloom, Bob the Builder: all these are excellent models for a white boy living in a world where he'll have to learn how to navigate the disparity between the privileges he gets and the privileges denied other people if he's going to become a good person. Mike the Knight is a sorry exception, and we hope very much you'll either improve it or replace it with something better.
I wasn't calling for
Mike the Knight to be banned. I'd like it to be improved a great deal, or else to make way for a better program: a TV channel has limited slots and I think they should go to shows that don't marginalise the majority of people, but if they want to keep it around on their website or sell DVDs of it and make them available in libraries, that's their right. So there's that.
On the other hand, I have unquestionably joined the ranks of mothers who complain that fiction is modelling bad values for their children.
I don't expect TV to be my babysitter. If I don't want us to watch
Mike the Knight, it's up to me to switch the box off. And yet here I am, complaining - with, I believe, good cause - about a TV show failing to meet with my moral standards.
Which raises the question: is there any difference between me and Mrs Twin-Set, and if so, what is it? We are both, after all, complaining that we don't want our children taught bad values. We are both accepting the posit that what a child encounters in fiction is going to have some effect on how he or she thinks. We are both considering that a public service has some responsibility to the public conscience.
We have a difference of opinion, at least. I'm not complaining because I want things excluded; I'm complaining because I don't want things - like women and people of colour - excluded. I'm not objecting to my son's innocence being violated; I'm objecting to his privilege being reinforced. I'm not arguing that no one should have access to Mike the Knight, just that it could be improved and that if it's not, another show would be a better occupant for finite TV time. But then, what if I were in a library and I saw a book I really had doubts about on the children's shelves? Would I complain? I certainly have plans to influence my son's fictional palate: there are books and shows and movies I plan to introduce him to because I think they'd be emotionally educational (though whether he actually likes them or not is, of course, up to him). There are books I hesitate over; for instance, I plan to read aloud Edith Nesbit and J.K. Rowling and Diana Wynne Jones, partly for their entertainment value and partly because I absolutely loathe C.S. Lewis and, should my son turn out to be a fan of magical tales, I'd like to give him the opportunity to bond with other, less bigoted authors first so that he can view Lewis with a bit more critical distance. (Of course, with this attitude it'd serve me right if he turned out to be Lewis's reincarnation.) So while probably wouldn't want a library to pull a book off its shelves, I certainly think in terms of exercising a degree of parental influence in the first few years of my son's life.
So at the end of the day, it may simply come down to an issue of politics. I don't think, for instance, that one should censor a book because it has shocking content (be it
Lolita's paedophilic narrator or
Blubber's villain using racial slurs); I believe that honest depictions of bad things are a good thing in books. I don't object to sexual content in fiction; to my mind, the sooner my son wants to have The Talk the better for him. While I'd hope that a writer for young children would be responsible in depicting the consequences of violence, I don't object to violent content per se. I'm all in favour of stuff that supports racial equality, LGBT rights and social justice. But on the other hand, Mrs Twin-Set is a fantasy figure, and without hearing the reasons for the challenges, I probably shouldn't assume I know real peoples' motivations. I'll stand up for my politics, but they may not explain everything.
So I'm wondering: is complaining complaining no matter what your motivations? Are there legitimate and illegitimate complaints? What's the difference? I'd really like to know what people think, because frankly, I'm far from sure.
--
Kit Whitfield


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