My first novel, “The House on Mango Street,” is among those deemed inappropriate by the South Texas book-removers. Most of the vignettes in the book were inspired by my time teaching at Chicago's Latino Youth Alternative High School. My students were former dropouts who struggled mightily just to return to school. Some were gay, some were addicted to drugs, some were children raising babies, some couldn't walk outdoors without being targeted by gangs, some were targeted by abusive boyfriends or parents. This was their reality. As their teacher and counselor, I had no means to heal their wounds beyond listening and telling their tales.
Because I wanted my novel to enter classrooms and libraries, I felt obliged to censor myself by writing about mature themes elusively, in a way that would sail over the heads of little ones. I needed my book to reach teens who were living these same stories, but I was also aware the stories might be read by younger readers, too. So I found myself crafting with care, respecting what children could handle at certain ages, since I certainly didn't wish to offend anyone, especially parents and school boards. [...]
I am lucky to receive constant confirmation from readers about how my book changed their lives for the better. I also feel fortunate to have corresponded with a Texas mother who felt my book should be removed from her child's school, and that we were able to exchange thoughts and come to a place of good will. Like the Mexican saying goes, “hablando se entiende la gente.” Talking to one another, we understand one another.