I received a fascinating, and testy, email this morning, from someone who identified himself as a "homeschooling dad". He was upset about the fact that I am, as he put it, "overly political" on Twitter.

I'm wondering if he has ever read any of my books. Or if he did, I'm wondering if he understood them.

They're, um, kinda political.

He wrote, "In this age of rancor and division, I beg you to reconsider the use of your voice, and the fact that impressionable ears are listening."

And I thought, "I hope they are. Indeed, I am counting on it."

So I decided to change my profile. Just to make things clear.

I'm always curious what it is that grown-ups mean when they fuss about things being "political" in children's books. Do they actually think they're protecting children? Or are they just protecting themselves?

Kids, after all, are incredibly political. They think deeply about fairness, equity and codes of power. They are constantly trying to understand the world - it's unwritten rules intentionally obscured. They are rewriting the universe to make it their own.

I honestly can't imagine even trying to be an apolitical children's author in this current reality. In this current administration. At this crossroad of history.

If you write for children, how can you not be political? When children at the border are torn from the arms of their parents? When children on the West Coast gasp for air? When children across the country bear the heaviest cost for their government's poor response to a virus?

Writing for children means engaging with human beings at a critical point in their development. You're giving them the tools that they'll need to navigate a changing, and sometimes baffling, world. You're telling them that their imaginations *matter*. Sounds political to me.

I still haven't responded. I don't know if I'm going to. I'm not sure if I can make a difference. Part of being a writer is having to radically accept the fundamental humanity of everyone, even people with terrible ideas and who make terrible choices. All deserve love and care.

So, here's my message, I guess:

Even though you're wrong, I love you anyway. You are still a human being, and therefore precious. Just as the kids protesting are precious. Just as the people languishing on the border are precious. Just as those sick with Covid are precious.

Is it political to treasure humanity? Is it political to seek radical reformation of unjust systems and lift up those who have been rendered powerless, voiceless, and robbed of resources? Yes. Obviously. This is our job. And this is Art's job too. There is no Art without Belief.

I could no sooner take my politics out of my writing than take my own imagination out of my writing. Or my sense of wonder and awe of the natural world. Or my deep, deep faith. Or my love of language. Or my love of people. Or my fascination with family, communities and human love

I don't think there are any children reading this thread, but in case there are:

I treasure you and I love you. Your curiosity matters. Your imagination matters. Your empathy and care and wonder matters. Your sense of justice and fairness. Your radical response to the world.

Any time a child reads a book, the adult that wrote that book is both implicitly and explicitly handing that child the whole world. It is a statement that the child holding that book is important, precious, and capable. To give a child a book is an act of faith. I believe in you.