When we open a children’s book, we open far more than a story. We open a window into a world of values, beliefs, and visions of childhood itself. But where does this window come from? Who built it? And most importantly: does it truly reflect the world in which the child looking through it actually lives?
The Colonial Legacy of Children’s Literature
The history of children’s literature in many parts of the world is inseparable from the history of colonialism. As the critic Sunindyo points out regarding Indonesia: “The history of children’s books in Indonesia at this time is to be found entirely within the history of Balai Pustaka, a government publishing agency established in 1908 by the Government of the Netherlands East Indies.”
This is not an isolated case. In Japan, modern children’s literature developed in the 1920s alongside “the ideas of European liberalism, the urban mode of living, free mass education and a modern concept of the child,” as critic Tadashi Matsui notes. In Africa, as Birgit Dankert observes, “the former colonial powers also introduced children’s books to Africa,” creating “the same ambivalent mixture of respect and rejection which characterises African reactions to so many other borrowings from former colonial powers.”
This history is not simply in the past. It continues to shape the way we think about children’s books today.
The Trap of Imported Ideology
Here is the fundamental problem: children’s literature is never a simple neutral container into which we can pour any story. It carries within it specific ideals about what childhood is, what freedom means, and how children should learn and grow. These ideals are deeply rooted in the traditions of Western liberal humanism, inherited from classical Greek culture.
Consider this quote from the 16th-century education philosopher Juan Luis Vives: “Poems contain subjects of extraordinary effectiveness, and they display human passions in a wonderful and vivid manner… There breathes in them a certain great and lofty spirit so that the readers are themselves caught into it, and seem to rise above their own intellect, and even above their own nature.”
This vision of literature as a tool for moral and emotional transformation still dominates children’s literature criticism today. But is this the only way to understand what reading does for children? Is this the vision that resonates across all cultures?
What Does It Mean to Write “from Within”?
Writing from within a culture does not simply mean adding traditional clothing or local names to a universal story. It means something much deeper.
It means:
1. Recognising that childhood itself is culturally constructed
What it means to be a child in Morocco is not the same as what it means to be a child in Sweden or Japan. Expectations, roles, freedoms, responsibilities — all of these vary. The historian Philippe Ariès reminds us that “the idea of childhood is not to be confused with affection for children: it corresponds to an awareness of the particular nature of childhood, that particular nature which distinguishes the child from the adult.” And this awareness changes with time and place.
2. Writing with the values of the community, not against them
A book that positions itself as “aggressively breaking taboos” may seem progressive, but it also risks speaking more to Western adults than to the children it claims to serve. As we specify in our projects, the book must be “written from within the culture, without imported ideology or a moralising tone, with a gentle, warm and reassuring approach that normalises the experience without aggressively breaking taboos.”
3. Honouring the language and local poetry
Language is not just a communication tool. It carries within it a worldview, metaphors, rhythms that resonate differently across cultures. Writing in accessible Modern Standard Arabic, for example, means drawing on the riches of this language while making it welcoming for young readers.
4. Understanding the social and family context
Books are not read in a vacuum. They are read in homes, shared with mothers, grandmothers, teachers. A book that creates a gap between the child and their community does not truly serve the child.
The Danger of the “Universal Child”
One of the most persistent myths in children’s literature is that there exists a “universal child” — a child whose needs, desires and emotional responses are the same everywhere in the world. This belief allows publishers to translate books from one culture to another, assuming they will “work” in the same way.
But the researcher Jacqueline Rose warns us: “Children’s fiction rests on the idea that there is a child who is simply there to be addressed and that speaking to it might be simple. It is an idea whose innocent generality covers up a multitude of sins.”
Every time we write “for children,” we construct an image of who this child is. And this image is shaped by our own culture, our own history, our own values. The child we imagine is never as universal as we think.
Authenticity vs Appropriation
There is a crucial difference between drawing inspiration from other cultures and imposing a cultural vision onto another.
Authenticity comes from:
- Lived knowledge
- Respect for nuance
- Consultation with the community
- A willingness to listen before speaking
Appropriation manifests as:
- Simplified stereotypes
- A “saviour” mentality from the outside
- The use of culture as mere exotic decoration
- The imposition of external values as “universal”
What This Means for Moroccan and Arab Authors
For authors writing for Moroccan and Arab children, this means several things:
You carry a unique responsibility. You are not simply writing a story — you are participating in defining what childhood means in your context. You are creating models, mirrors, possibilities.
You have irreplaceable knowledge. No one else can write with the same intimate understanding of the rhythms of daily life, the metaphors that resonate, the concerns that truly matter to the families you serve.
You have the freedom to define your own terms. You do not need to accept imported definitions of what constitutes a “good” children’s book. You can create your own criteria, rooted in your own cultural wisdom.
The Delicate Balance
None of this means we must reject all external influence or isolate ourselves. Moroccan and Arab children’s literature can — and should — be in dialogue with literary traditions from around the world. But this dialogue must take place on equal terms, not as passive importation.
As Dankert notes regarding African children’s literature, the arguments in favour of children’s books “resemble those of the early years of European children’s literature: that children’s books should educate, that they should preserve folk culture, that they should help guarantee Africa’s transition to a culture of the written word, that they should support African cultural identity.”
These are valid objectives. But they must be pursued on our own terms, with our own voices, from within our own experiences.
A Commitment for the Future
At Agafay Books, we are committed to publishing books that:
- Are created from within Moroccan and Arab culture
- Respect the intelligence and complexity of young readers
- Honour traditions while allowing for growth
- Speak with authenticity, warmth and honesty
- Truly serve the children and families they are meant for
Cultural sensitivity is not an optional addition to our work. It is the very foundation of what we do. Because ultimately, the best stories for children are not those that claim to speak to every child everywhere in the world. They are those that speak deeply, honestly and with love to the children here, now, in all their particularity and humanity.
About this series: This article is part of a series exploring the theoretical and practical foundations of children’s literature. We examine what it truly means to write for children, and how we can do so with integrity, respect and literary excellence.
Agafay Books is a publishing house dedicated to creating authentic children’s literature for Morocco and the Arab world, rooted in our cultures while celebrating the universality of the human experience.
