Trace the arc of Michael Genhart’s path as a writer, and a clear storytelling purpose emerges: to reach a young audience with stories that speak from the heart. His earlier picture books tie rather neatly with his background as a clinical psychologist, but his latter efforts demonstrate a new, equally effective approach. “The more I thought about other themes, the more I felt that I could do better by reaching more kids with a message that I bet they would want to hear,” Genhart says.

Inspired by his mom’s childhood experiences in Southern California as well as research on the American Southwest’s anti-Spanish efforts throughout the early to mid-20th century, Genhart’s latest picture book, Spanish Is the Language of My Family (Neal Porter/Holiday House, July 11), illustrated by John Parra, chronicles the journey of young Manolo as he prepares for his school’s Spanish spelling bee. Along the way, Manolo finds encouragement and a much-needed historical lesson from Abuela, who shares stories from her childhood in the U.S. public school system as it forcefully dissuaded and punished Latine students who spoke Spanish.

Our conversation with Genhart—edited for length and clarity—occurred via Zoom, with the author speaking from the Bay Area.

Looking back on your writing journey, how have you changed your approach to writing picture books?

I’ve become more of an archaeologist of my own life. The first few books came from this more clinical place, and those books, hopefully, are still books that kids can relate to. But as I started thinking more about having a queer family and how I grew up, I wanted to tell stories that were more unique and with more heart. That’s sort of what I’m after now. In particular, I want to tell untold stories.

I’ve been holding this story for years, mulling over it and figuring out if I could tell it. How do you do it with a child-friendly touch? But also with poignancy? Using the spelling bee as a structure and being able to be playful with that was how I did it. It was very cathartic to write the story and be able to share it with my mom along the way. I actually just read the Spanish version to her. And…I’m going to cry, but she was just quiet. Just silent. I said, “Are you OK, Mom?” And she said, “I’m just remembering all of that.” We sat in silence together. It was a healing moment for her, for me. Then she said, “You did a good job, mijo.” That was powerful for me to hear.

That’s the highest praise.

I mean, if it didn’t pass the mom test, I was in trouble.

What motivated you to write about this forgotten chapter of U.S. history now?

Kids need to know because discrimination exists today, especially against Black and brown people. Kids need to know the roots of some of this discrimination. This is a story that taps into a 50-year period of erasure and loss of language. The high school dropout rate was really high among the Latinx population as a result of this humiliation and shaming. If we don’t learn from history, we’re at risk of repeating it. This is a book for all kids, not just for healing and the celebration of Spanish and the reclaiming of the language for Latinx folks, but for all kids to learn about people who don’t look like them and also what they endured.

What drew you to using a school-based Spanish spelling bee as a space of reclamation and recovery?

That was a natural platform for kids to relate to. But I also thought that this is a way I could introduce the words of Abuela’s story hidden in plain view—her story told and reinforced through the spelling words. It allowed me to layer the story, using spelling words that, at first glance, just appear to be spelling words. I chose those words carefully. It allowed me to introduce more Spanish without having to spell out the context, so readers would have to make the connection.

Generational trauma serves as a crucial theme throughout the book. You temper that pressure by having Abuela and Manolo’s parents offer levity and support (and churros!) to Manolo. Was this something you were consciously considering as you wrote?

Oh, totally! Every word featured in that story was selected carefully. My favorite line toward the end is, “And at that moment, I know. We both won today.” That’s the healing moment. Manolo knew that he was spelling for Abuela. That line gets me every time because that’s really what I want to write about—the healing, the reclaiming. Ultimately, the book is a celebration of Spanish and the reclaiming of dignity because that’s what got lost: people’s dignity.

What three words—¡en Español!—would you use to describe this story?

Dignidad, sanación, and celebracion. These are words from the story, but they apply here. I’m the product of what happened. My mom would say, “I don’t want my children going through what we went through.” So this book is a way for me, personally, to reclaim my language.

What do you hope young readers take away from the story?

I would like all kids to appreciate learning a piece of history that they probably didn’t know about. About what can happen when racism occurs but also what can happen when people speak back. There are obviously lots of different stories of racism, sadly. Everyone needs to know all these stories that don’t apply to them. Everyone needs to know about these stories for us to incrementally build a world that is not racist and [is] more just. My hope is that all kids will relate with poignancy. I kind of want them to be uncomfortable because history is uncomfortable, or at least aspects of it. But we could learn from it if we have an open mind and an open heart. We can learn from it.

J. Alejandro Mazariegos is a writer and nonprofit advocate in California.