What White Writers Should Know About Telling Black Stories
By Nancy Johnson | June 4, 2019 |
We often live in different communities and socialize in separate circles, and yet when it’s time to write our novels, a few daring souls attempt to cross the racial divide. As a Black writer, I must say it’s sometimes awkward at best.
The publishing industry has been vocal in recent years about wanting diverse books that reflect the world we live in. This has sparked a lot of discussion in writing communities, including this one. I’m often curious: Do these writers want to include Black characters because it will make them more marketable or do they see this as a moral act, a way to do the right thing? Is this really the story they want to tell?
Several white writers have asked me to review excerpts of their novels that feature Black characters. They approach me well-intentioned but also apprehensive about getting it right. They fear doing something stupid (read: racist) on the page and that’s a valid concern. Mistakes have been made in literature, television, and film. (Note that this was an intentional use of passive voice to avoid outing the guilty.)
When I review the work of white writers, I often find common missteps regarding Black characters. The prevailing wisdom for anyone writing characters outside of their own experience is to research and do your homework. While due diligence is always important, there are other basics that often get missed.
Slang and broken English should not be the dialogue default for Black characters.
I’ve read too many novel manuscripts in which Black characters are speaking Ebonics and using poor grammar. I cringe because it’s often offensive caricature. Black people are not a monolith and our language patterns are as diverse as we are.
When you try to emulate language that’s embedded in a culture you don’t know or understand, it’s tricky to pull that off in a way that isn’t seen as demeaning and derogatory. Now, just to confuse everyone, I want to share an example from the award-winning memoir Heavy, by Kiese Laymon, a Black author and English professor at the University of Mississippi who breaks those rules, because he can. In this passage, he describes bantering with his eighth-grade classmate in Catholic school:
La Thon cut up his pink grapefruit with his greasy, dull butter knife. “These white folk know we here on discount,” he told me, “but they don’t even know.”
“You right,” I told him. “These white folk don’t even know that you an ol’ grapefruit-by-the-pound-eating-ass n****. Give me some grapefruit. Don’t be parsimonious with it, either.”
In that passage, Laymon and his friend are intentionally practicing their vocabulary words (parsimonious) in a way that’s relevant and connected for them culturally. If you’re not Black and that’s not your experience, don’t try that on the page.
The primary purpose for Black characters should not be to support white protagonists.
We often see Black characters in novels playing the role of the sassy sidekick or best friend. As marginalized people, we consider ourselves “the mainstream” and want to be centered in stories. We shouldn’t be relegated to holding the white protagonist’s hand and shepherding her through her crisis.
You may have heard of the Magical Negro trope in which the wise, sometimes other-worldly Black person enters the white character’s life just at the moment he needs counsel and transformation. What does your Black character get out of this relationship? What is his motivation or story goal? Or is he merely there as a narrative device to facilitate the growth of a white character?
Give Black characters interior lives.
They should have full lives and agency, brimming with depth and complexity. We should know them as intimately as any other character.
Do these Black characters have families? Do they love and grieve and dream? Make them fully human and alive with expectation and possibility.
In another great work from Mississippi, Jesmyn Ward brings us Sing, Unburied, Sing, a novel that won the National Book Award. In this scene, we see the heart of Leonie, a daughter sitting at her dying mother’s bedside.
Her hair is so threadbare, I can see her scalp: pale and blue-veined, hollowed and dimpled, imperfect as a potter’s bowl.
“You full grown now,” she says.
I sit, cross my arms. It makes my breasts stick out a little. I remember the horror of them coming in, budding like little rocks, when I was ten. How those fleshy knots felt like a betrayal. Like someone had lied to me about what life would be. Like Mama hadn’t told me that I would grow up. Grow into her body. Grow into her.
Throughout this novel, we get to know Leonie as an imperfect woman, a flawed daughter making her own mistakes as a mother. It’s refreshing to see a working-class Black woman and her son in the Deep South at the center of such a compelling narrative.
If the inclusion of Black characters is an add-on afterthought, leave them out.
Let’s stop window-dressing. There’s so much hand-wringing over showcasing people of different races and ethnic backgrounds in advertisements and on websites. Many of these efforts ring false. As writers, we’re not a restaurant doing food plating where it’s important to add green garnish along with brightly colored items for visual variety.
Don’t try to fill book quotas by adding people of color. The lack of emotional depth in your characters will be obvious and more problematic than having an all-white cast.
Before you create fictitious Black people, get to know real ones.
I won’t belabor this one. Just expand your circle.
Amplify the voices of Black authors who are telling their own stories.
This is really important. I know there’s a sincere desire to ensure that all stories get told and that diverse voices are heard. Black writers are giving us some of the most dynamic and significant stories of our time right now. Buy and read their books. Check them out at the library. Recommend them to your friends and promote those works on social media. When you’re asked to speak at an event or serve on a literary panel, suggest Black authors for those opportunities. This is how we work together to diversify the canon.
Have you included Black characters in your books? If so, what challenges have you encountered and how did you work through them? Which novels written by Black authors do you recommend? Let’s hear from you!
A native of Chicago’s South Side, Nancy Johnson (she/her) worked for more than a decade as an Emmy-nominated, award-winning television journalist at CBS and ABC affiliates in markets nationwide. Her debut novel, The Kindest Lie, was a Target Book Club Pick. It has been reviewed by The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times, and was featured in Real Simple magazine and on Entertainment Weekly’s Must List. It was a New York Times Editors’ Choice selection and was named one of the most anticipated books by Newsweek, O, the Oprah Magazine, Shondaland, NBC News, Marie Claire, ELLE, The Chicago Tribune, The New YorkPost, Good Housekeeping, Parade, Refinery29, and more. Booksellers nationwide selected her novel as an Indie Next pick and librarians chose it for LibraryReads. A graduate of Northwestern University and The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Nancy lives in downtown Chicago and her second novel, People of Means, will be published by William Morrow/HarperCollins in early 2025.
Find out more about Nancy, her books and events on her website.
Excellent post! I love the last point especially because it gives readers (rather than just writers) a call to action as well.
Katie, hello! I agree with you. People often ask, “What can I do?” Reading more widely and sharing the work of Black writers and other authors of color is easy to do and it’s meaningful.
Thanks for commenting.
Best,
Nancy
Hello, Nancy. I am a writer working on a novel that takes place in rural Texas during the Civil Rights Era. My primary protagonists are a middle-aged black woman and a white girl who marched with civil rights activists in Mississippi in 1965. It is a semi-autobiographical novel fashioned on my personal experiences as well as those of the black woman who saved her life. The characters are based on people I knew but I worry about portraying the Black experience of the time and their language. I need a beta reader who can tell me when I’ve made missteps. Suggestions?
Marlys, if you re-read the section in Nancy’s blog where she details avoiding the use of The Magical Negro, a Black person- in your case a Black woman- saving the life of the white girl who is a Civil Rights activist…… That in itself is a huge problem and is riddled with such hypocrisy. Don’t you see? I don’t think you do. It is evident in the question you asked about the very thing Nancy said not to do. That Black woman is not a story you should tell. Tell the story of the girl by herself, doing her thing, being an activist, making a difference in her world, showing other white people the error of their ways. But leave the magical Black woman out of it.
Does anything change because this is somewhat auto-biographical? What would happen if the book were published and did well, and in interviews it was revealed that there was a huge piece of the story either left out or changed (making the hero a woman white). Would there be uproar over the fact that this story was ‘white-washed’ to remove a significant heroine because of her color?
I don’t write novelized auto-biographies, but I can see that there is a shade-of-gray area here, and I’m not sure how I would advise someone to navigate it. For example, could the author write solely from the white girl’s perspective but leave the Black woman in the story, in her role, since it was true? Could the white writer contact the Black woman, if she is still living, and ask her to review the book and even write the dialog of her character and/or inform critical decisions, then include her as a co-author? Unconventional, but better, no? Better, too, than leaving her out of this history, which seems such a crime. But I am a white woman, and I am here to learn, too.
Hi Marlys,
You’ve sparked such an important dialogue with the example you shared about what you’re writing. My first instinct if this were purely fiction would be to agree with what Yas said that you may want to consider leaving the “magical negro” black helper/savior out of the narrative.
However, Therese brings up an important issue. Since this is based on something true that actually happened during the Civil Rights Movement, you want to be careful not to erase this heroic Black woman from the story. If she’s still living, I’d try to find her and include her in some way in the crafting of this narrative.
The other alternative is to find other Black women with similar stories from that era. Spend time with them. Interview them. I’m a former journalist so this is the way I’d tackle this. With the proper amount of qualitative research, you can give this woman agency and enormous depth. It’s all in how you handle it though.
In terms of finding readers, check online for diversity readers and sensitivity readers.
Thanks again for sharing!
Best,
Nancy
Love, love this column, Nancy! As a former social worker who spent many years teaching MSW (Master of Social Work) students, I am passionate about this topic. Good intentions are not enough, especially if one is sitting in a place of privilege. Your point about adding characters of color merely to give the appearance of diversity is so right—and so needed. Thank you.
Hi Barbara,
Thanks for weighing in on this. So often, people don’t recognize or acknowledge their privilege and the responsibility that comes with it. Indeed, we have to move beyond appearances to something substantive when we talk about diversity in the stories we tell.
Thanks again,
Nancy
Great post, Nancy. It’s such a struggle to honor our characters on the page, and that struggle intensifies when we write across lines of race and culture. Your points are right on target.
Hi Rebecca,
I love that phrase “honor our characters.” If we all as writers approach out work from that perspective, we’ll take the time to humanize our characters and give them emotional depth on the page.
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Great post, thank you! With my WIP, I am in a tricky situation: I am writing speculative fiction, set on a world I created myself. The society I made up does have discrimination issues, but not because of race or gender. In fact they are quite proud of having overcome any conflicts due to religion, nationality, race or gender, looking down upon former times when this still was an issues Of course they are completely blind to the way they discriminate – for them, ancestry is important, being family to one special group of people from the past.
What I want is to paint a picture of a society who sees different skin colours a bit like hair or eye colour – a way to describe someone, but nothing else. So the main protagonist is rather pale (blushing scarlet red when embarrassed), his room mate is quite dark skinned, his colleagues are all shades (not green or blue or something really fancy though). I find it tricky to do the descriptions properly, to mention skin colour sometimes, to show the diversity, but not to overdo it.
As for black authors: I loved “Happiness” by Aminatta Forna. I had the opportunity to hear the author speak at a literature festival – I could have listened for hours.
Not a novel, but still amazing: “The Lies that Bind. Rethinking Identity” by Kwame Anthony Appiah.
Hi J,
Your novel sounds intriguing. It will be interesting to see how you handle the world building. As the creator, you have the power to bring new dimension to skin color and race. That’s exciting! I imagine one challenge will be how you do that in a society in which race relations are so fraught and our ideas about race are baked into how we see the world. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.
Thanks for the book recommendations, too!
Best,
Nancy
Thanks for the encouragement! I try to write about skin colour and race the way my boys saw it (and in a way still see it): Growing up in a multi-cultural expat-bubble, going to an international school from 4 years old on, for them diversity was something cool, something to be celebrated. It meant interesting stories about religious customs, new food to be tasted and shared, new languages to be heard and tried out. They did not even grasp the concept of racism for a long time. It sounded so stupid to them. – So I want to capture this open mindedness, which then contrasts sharply with the prejudices that are the problem of the society in my WIP.
Thank you for this column, Nancy. Like Barbara who commented above, I am a former social worker. I am currently working on a novel that includes important characters of different races, and I am striving (and sometimes struggling) to represent all characters in a respectful and fully-developed way. I appreciate your thoughts. Regarding book suggestions, I recommend An American Marriage by Tayari Jones, Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward, The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead, and The Nickel Boys, also by Colson Whitehead, due out in July (I was lent an advance readers copy). Collum McCann is a white writer, but I thought his book Let the Great World Spin did a nice job of portraying characters of different races and backgrounds.
I’ll keep your insights in mind as I write!
Thank you,
Maria
Hi Maria,
It’s okay to struggle. We all do. At least you’re putting in the work to tell the most honest, authentic story you can outside of your own experience.
I love several of the books you recommended. I studied with Tayari Jones for a week over the summer at Tin House. I learned so much from her. Salvage the Bones is one of my all-time favorite books. I still find myself thinking of Esch and wondering where life has taken her. The Nickel Boys is on my list to read when it’s released.
Thanks so much for commenting!
Best,
Nancy
My first encounter with people of color happened when I was about nine. Living in a central Kansas farming community, we simply didn’t have a diverse ethnicity. But my mother and I were visiting Chicago.
While we were riding a bus to get to the Museum of Science and Industry, another mother got on with her daughter who was about five. Because the bus was full, the four of us shared the bench opposite the driver, facing the road.
She leaned across her mother to look at me and then ask my mother “Is that your little girl?” My mother answered in the affirmative. Then the little girl said “I’m my mother’s little girl.”
She was a beautiful child with a smile that lit up the entire bus. When we arrived at the museum, her mother hung back to wait for another light. The little girl called to me to wait. So my mother and I waited on the other side of the street for the light to change and the other mother and daughter to join us.
It didn’t dawn on me until my mother explained that the other mother was hesitant to “burden us with their presence” because they were black.
We had a wonderful time at the museum. We went to the farm exhibits (not my cup of tea because they were old hat to me). It was a joy to watch the five-year-old’s excitement and fascination.
We enjoyed refreshments in the coffee shop; we toured Colleen Moore’s dollhouse which was on display at that time.
I was reared to be color-blind to ethnicity. It was a mixed blessing. I assumed everyone shared my experience. They didn’t. Nor do I share their experiences, except as they share with me. I will probably never write – or try to write an ethnically diverse character. I simply do not have the information and insight.
I do, however, have friends now who are ethnically different from me. I treasure them. Some are even writers whose work I will champion as occasion rises.
It seems to me that diversity for politically correct reasons is counter-productive.
Thank you for a well-reasoned post. I’d love to be back in Chicago again. It’s one of my favorite cities.
Hi Judith,
Chicago is my home. Glad to know you fell in love with the city! Your childhood experience is an interesting one. When we’re young, we often just want to connect with other kids. I wouldn’t assume that the black mother you encountered was concerned about burdening you with her presence because she was black. There could have been a million reasons. You’ll never know.
I think many well-meaning white people consider themselves color-blind. When you’re Black in America, you don’t have the luxury of not seeing race. In the books we write, the experiences Black characters bring to stories are unique.
I appreciate your perspective on this and I’m glad we can have the dialogue.
Best,
Nancy
I didn’t assume the reason she hung back. She said as much to my mother. This was the late 40s. She also told my mother that she and her husband considered not having children because of the race issue. It was a totally different time.
As to Chicago, one of my favorite memories is of the Schubert Theater and seeing Rex Harrison and Sally Anne Howe in My Fair Lady. At that time I was in college, taking classes in stage-craft and scene design. The use of scrim and the rotating stage took my breath away. As did Sally Anne’s rendition of I Could Have Danced All Night. But the scene stealer was Alfred P. Doolittle. His magic lit the stage every time he was on. The entire cast drew from Stanley Holloway’s energy.
Thanks for clarifying that, Judith. I can only imagine what people’s motivations were at that time and what they had to do to survive.
The Shubert Theater has a special place in Chicago history. Wonderful memories!
I hear you! I could write an article like this telling non-Jewish writers what they should know about telling Jewish stories (in short: DON’T)!
Hi Davida,
Thanks for sharing your input. I’ve received social media messages today from some in the Black community with the same advice: “Don’t.” I don’t want to put limits on the stories people can tell. However, I would advise anyone who is not committed to doing the work to get it right to leave it alone.
Best,
Nancy
As somebody with Jewish blood, I couldn’t disagree with this comment more; it actually makes me angry.
What are people striving for; separate but equal? We all know how wonderful the world was during THAT time in this country 🙄
You can’t scream for inclusion and go on about how people are underrepresented out of one side of your mouth, then tell non-whatever people they ‘aren’t allowed’ or to not tell their stories at all out of the other.
Submitting people to a DNA test or examining their upbringing before somebody OKs a person to write a book is some dystopian bull crap.
Maybe if writers are encouraged to tell these stories, they’ll be forced to research and reach out to the types of people they write about, and form a greater sense of empathy and understanding for them that lasts beyond just one book. Instead, you’re fostering an environment where non-Jews are too terrified to even TRY writing about us.
So, gentiles: I encourage you to include Jewish characters.
And Nancy? Your reply to this person was fantastic. I love that you don’t believe in telling others what they can and can’t write about. ✌️
Nancy, the points you hit–sidekicks, faux dialect, thin interiority–are exactly what I sometimes see in manuscripts. To those I would add, too often, “victim”.
White writers come at characters of color from a limited perspective. How could they not, when our society remains unequal and divided despite law and the good intentions of most?
So why do white writers attempt it? Guilt? Perhaps, but in discussing appropriation with folks, I find it is more often a wish to acknowledge and in some small way repair the injustice in our society. I don’t think the intention is wrong, even execution sometimes clangs.
A few authors do get it more right than others, but ultimately what’s needed are the voices of writers of color–man, how I long for the day when we don’t have to type writers in any way at all–in print. For that to happen, writers must write.
And thankfully, more and more I see our literature growing in range. At my agency diverse voices–Lord, I really, really hate the vocabulary of our moment–are pushing through in exciting numbers. Genre walls are down, publishers are welcoming, it’s a great time.
Now for great stories! What’s most exciting of all is when any writer of any background gets that right.
Hi Don,
Thank you for providing your perspective on this as a publishing industry insider. I hear white writers in writing communities discussing how they need characters of color in their stories to be viable in the marketplace. This disturbs me because I don’t want “diversity in publishing” to be a trend that writers are chasing because it’s presumably the hot thing selling these days.
I definitely see more agents and editors calling for #ownvoices and diverse characters. I think we’re still waiting for the gatekeepers of publishing to become more diverse as well.
I’m glad to see that you and so many others recognize the value in amplifying the voices of writers of color. That’s the key for anyone who wants to begin repairing injustices and moving us forward.
Thanks so much for weighing in on this. Look forward to finally meeting you in-person at the UnConference in November! :)
Best,
Nancy
Likewise!
Thank you for your candor. :)
Ten years ago I loved the Stephanie Plum books, but even at that time I found Lula’s character troublesome. As time has passed, and I’ve become more aware of how truly offensive that character might be to the Black community, I can’t enjoy the books.
That experience has made me very leery of including Black characters, or other people of color in my writing. However, I have wanted to include diversity in my stories. My reasoning is that my communities include or have included Native American people and/or Cubans, Mexicans and other Spanish-speaking groups. My goal isn’t to have them be props, but to have a representation. Writing all White characters really isn’t accurate and feels like ignoring groups of people with whom I have regular contact. I wouldn’t want to write the story from a Native American protagonist’s perspective or say, Mexican person’s perspective because that isn’t my experience and I think it’s better to do as you say and amplify other people’s stories. I do wonder, though, if having secondary characters who are Black or Latinx or Native American, because secondary characters do support the protagonist, will always fall into the category of side-kick? Would the difference be in how well and fully the character is written? I have actually been to many different blogs trying to figure this one out, and still don’t have an answer. So far I’ve just not included diversity, but that seems wrong, too. I’m at the planning stages of my new wip and was happy to see your post today, hoping it might illuminate my conundrum. :)
Just recently I found Kellye Garrett’s Dayna Anderson series and LOVE it. I can’t wait for more! After following her on Twitter, she spotlighted several Black mystery writers to check out and now my TBR list is really long!!
Thanks again for the excellent post. :)
Hi Lara,
You’ve perfectly captured the conundrum that so many writers face. Long after the Friends series aired on TV, people lamented that those characters had zero black friends. It felt incredibly out-of-touch with reality. However, we have to be careful about just dropping people of color in a story to fix that problem. One show I love on NBC is This is Us. That’s a perfect example of a predominantly white cast that also centers Black lives in a compelling, authentic way. This is Us would not be nearly as amazing without Randall and Beth. Does that make sense?
To answer your question, the Black best friend should be fully realized and complex. Her sole purpose should not be to support your white protagonist. It’s all about how you write that character and the depth you give her.
And yes, I agree that Kellye Garrett and her books are wonderful!
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
It does make sense! I don’t have regular television, but I’ll try to find a way to watch This is Us for lessons. :D
Thanks again!
This is exactly what I thought reading this:
“I do wonder, though, if having secondary characters who are Black or Latinx or Native American, because secondary characters do support the protagonist, will always fall into the category of side-kick?”
As one of the people who has asked you for help with black characters, Nancy, I recognize myself in much of what you say! I can only resolve to do better and to keep learning.
Hi Kathleen!
Great to see you here. I’ve always enjoyed reading excerpts of your novel. You’re very sensitive to these issues.
When it comes to secondary characters as sidekicks, I think about movies where the supporting characters became scene-stealers! There’s Tommy DeVito in Goodfellas, Shug Avery in The Color Purple, and Dr. King Schultz in Django Unchained. When the sidekicks are fully realized and have a lot of depth, they become central in their own right.
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Great post Nancy. I just want what I read and what I write to reflect a society that is diverse. If I write a story set in Chicago then the characters must reflect diversity. And once I’ve made that decision, the writing must follow the guidelines you mention here. It must honor all characters as real true people. Not some false caricature. As always a helpful post.
Hi Beth!
Always good to see you here. That’s exactly it. Our stories can and should reflect the world we live in, but we have to take care in how we create those characters.
Thanks for weighing in on this.
Best,
Nancy
Hi Nancy,
An excellent post and thank you. It’s a subject that I’ve been wrangling with in the years (no one is surprised I said years, right?) I’ve been working on my WIP. I have a Black character and he is a main character, important in every way to my story. But does he need to be a man of color? I’ve asked that question of myself and critique partners many times.
I take your point seriously that when I write a Black character (I say I because I feel like you were speaking directly to me) it can not be to add window dressing or to be pointlessly inclusive. He must have have purpose in the story and his ethnicity must be a part of that purpose. He does to me and I hope he would to a reader. But as I write and revise I will hold your points up to the light and strive to make them shine through.
Hi Wila,
I’m so glad my perspective resonated with you. It sounds like you’re asking the right questions about intention and execution in your novel. Best of luck with it!
Thanks,
Nancy
Thank you for the excellent post. I am white male and have written historical novels with a black female protagonist. To one another the slaves speak grammatical English, because that is what they would hear. If we were listening in on two Germans speak we would hear English.
When the slaves in my stories speak to white people, it sounds different—Ebonics, if you will. It reinforces the idea of, “You may hear this language, Master, but we are thinking something else.” When the German speaks to an English speaker it will be with an accent.
Thank you for the opportunity to comment. I’d be interested in any reactions to this post.
Hi David,
Thanks for weighing in with your story example. I’m in the beginning stages of a second novel that will include one timeline during the transatlantic slave trade. So I’m also grappling as well with how to handle dialogue.
Check out this short piece from the Chicago Review of Books on how Colson Whitehead avoided mimicry of slave dialect in The Underground Railroad. https://bit.ly/2dovUBs
It sounds like the slaves in your novel are purposefully using coded language to sidestep their masters. I think you’d have to make it clear that this was an intentional use or misuse of language. That can be a powerful story itself. Best of luck with it!
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
David, this is true of my characters as well. Amongst family and friends white or black, they speak common lingua of grammatical Southern speech but to white people of threat, the Ebonics come forth
Dialects of any kind are difficult to master in written form. In America there are several hundreds of dialects spoken, most of them not African-American ones (awkwardly referred to as “Ebonics” ) and African-American dialects, are incredibly fluid. These dialects change based on time, place and culture (as there are many subcultures within the broad African-American experience).
The African-American experience is certainly as diverse as the white American one. There are all different kinds of black people in America just like there are all different kinds of white people in America.
Do Italian Americans speak the same dialect as Irish ones? No
Fugeddaboutit.
When attempting to capture any cultural dialect, if it’s not your own, it’s probably best to consult a linguist.
A linguist can figure out the rules of any dialect and assist with reducing the dialect to writing, but it’s difficult as dialects have no formal written grammar. The grammar IS THERE but only a linguist could recognize it.
Also Code-switching is something well educated African-Americans do often, and we hear it so much now, code-switching is just apart of the General American dialect. Even white People do it, because they hear black celebrities do it all the time.
Take Will Smith, he built a career off of code-switching. Oprah too. Code switching is simply when you switch back and forth between “standard” English and Your African-American dialect.
It’s like me saying: “I be writing about writing.” See that’s me switching out of the standard into my African-American dialect- again, it’s very tricky to pull off in writing!
Good Luck!
Thank you for your post today, and the topic, although slightly broader, has been on my mind lately. My current novel has a lead protagonist with a similar background to me (a white woman, middle class, etc.). But she joins an investigative group led by an Asian-American man and one of her colleagues is a Black woman, and another is a Latina. The foursome brings different skill sets together to create an amazing crime-fighting team and will treat each other respectfully and as equals.
Of course, I could have kept them all white, and it might have been easier, but that isn’t what I have experienced. I suppose I’ve been luckier than most to have lived in many different parts of the country and to have worked with diverse teams like the one in my novel.
I did not add non-whites to my novel to poke fun at them or meet any weird diversity quota. In fact, they will not be that different than the lead character. They will use some slang and have a different style and personality on the page but not in a derogatory manner. I have friends lined up to read final drafts to help ensure that some things I’m unsure of sound correct.
Writing novels should give us more freedom to write not just what we know but what we would like to see. Perhaps if some color, race, sexual preference, or nationality isolated person happens to read my book and enjoys it, they will see how wonderful it is to have a wider mix of friends and colleagues. Breaking down barriers means showing how we can all get along together and having more of a mix in our books seems to be another way to promote this.
PS Jesmyn Ward’s latest novel was selected as the 2019 One Book in Philadelphia where I live. She gave an impressive talk at the community college nearby, and it’s at the top of my to-read pile.
Hi Karen,
I agree that our literature and other art forms should reflect the world we live in. I don’t think our white and Black characters should be interchangeable in our books though. We should value differences. Those differences make our narratives richer. I’m not talking about slang. As a Black woman, I’m defined by my heritage and culture. The way I see the world, the things I worry about, the way I move through society… it’s all a part of who I am.
That being said, my experience as a Black woman from a middle class family in Chicago is going to be different than someone else’s Black experience. There’s a lot of nuance that has to be unpacked. That’s where the work comes in.
I appreciate your comments here. I’m sure you’ll love Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward. A tremendous read!
Best,
Nancy
I appreciate this post, I believe it is an important issue and raises several questions. Underlying this discussion is the idea that white writers cannot write authentic black characters because their life experiences are too different. According to one of the comments, this goes for Jewish characters as well, so perhaps it holds true for Asian and Hispanic characters, etc. ad infinitum. Should white writers simply not attempt to write characters who are not also white? Then won’t they be accused of a lack of diversity in their work?
Hi Anne-Marie,
From my perspective, we’re all free and welcome to write any story we want to write. However, with freedom comes responsibility. You’re right. Plenty of people of color have said “just don’t do it” out of frustration because there are so many examples in literature, television, and film where artists have been lazy and insensitive in telling stories of people of color.
You asked a question about writers being “accused of a lack of diversity” in their work. That goes back to intention. Are you including people of color because of perception or because this is the story you need to tell?
I believe that white writers should only take this on if they’re going to make every effort to avoid dangerous tropes and give their Black characters the full humanity and emotional depth they deserve.
I appreciate your questions. Thank you.
Best,
Nancy
Your answers to my questions are very helpful, and clarify the issue for me. Thank you!
Nancy,
I loved your article, and am so glad you addressed this issue. First of all, you asked for recommendations of books by black authors. I just finished reading The Darkest Child by Delores Phillips and it is one of the best books I have ever read. Hard, but extremely well done. Sadly, Ms. Phillips died before she could finish the sequel.
Secondly, I hear you! As a white lesbian, I usually cringe when “straight” people or gay men try to write lesbian characters. I think it is nearly impossible for them to get it right. The movie Carol was directed by a gay man and it was “off,” by just that smidge that told me, “The director is not one of us (and neither are the actresses).”
Then again, the Kids are Alright was written and directed by a lesbian who felt she had to pander to heterosexual tastes by having one of the partners fall for the sperm donor. It was such a disappointment to have lesbians depicted–once again–as secretly wanting a man. Do you see black authors pandering to white audiences, in this way?
Your column provided much food for thought. Thanks again!
Thanks to everyone for all their comments. The Darkest Child looks great. Just added to my TBR list.
Hi Sheree,
I love your take on this from the viewpoint of how queer stories and characters are handled. It’s a double slap in the face when one of your own panders like that. Ugh.
I’ve only seen this kind of pandering from unpublished Black writers who feel they need to whitewash their stories to appeal to a white publishing industry.
What I see more often from successful Black authors in unapologetic blackness. You might be interested in this short video interview with Toni Morrison who addresses some of this issue. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vIGvKpT1c
I’ll have to read The Darkest Child. It sounds amazing!
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Nancy,
I just watched the Toni Morrison video. Wow! I am spellbound by her originality, candor and intellectual heft. I loved hearing her thoughts on the White Gaze. I thought Charlie Rose came off as out-of-touch and out-of-his depth. Did I hear it correctly that he was asking her when she was going to write about the white experience? It left me shaking my head.
I thought it was so interesting she said her first book (I think I got this right) had a narrator that spoke to a white audience. She said this narrator explained things that wouldn’t have needed to be explained to a black audience. I assume she stopped this practice in her subsequent novels, but I can see why she did it at the outset. Maybe it helped her connect with a wider (read: whiter) audience? Or, does she think it reinforced white dominance?
Thanks for a terrific post. I have enjoyed reading everyone’s comments and your replies to these comments. I hope I get to meet you at Uncon.
Sheree
Sheree, I’m always in awe of Toni Morrison. Yes, I’ll be at the UnCon. Look forward to meeting you, too!
Nancy,
I’ll be sure to look you up at Uncon. Thanks for a thoughtful and informative post.
Sheree
This is such a complicated issue. Thanks for exploring it. As a white, straight, cis writer you get mixed messages. Simplified version:
* Don’t include diverse characters because you won’t come across as authentic and those aren’t your stories to tell.
* If all the characters in your book are straight/white/etc, you need to check your biases because that doesn’t reflect the world we live in.
At the same time, many of us are examining our own prejudices and privilege given today’s social and political climate. It’s enough to freeze the fingers on the keyboard and send your head spinning.
I’m fortunate to live in Vancouver, a very diverse city. White people are the minority in my neighborhood. But I grew up in Calgary, and had a very white upbringing in a very proper British family. Moving here 30 years ago led to a lot of self-examination of ideas I’d unconsciously adopted from my family, despite never believing myself to be racist in any way.
I just keep telling my stories as honestly and respectfully as I can, and painting the worlds I see in my mind and heart. I try to keep listening and learning–about myself and others.
Ultimately, my readers will be the judge of whether my stories ring true.
Hi Sheri,
It is complicated! I disagree that you can’t or won’t be authentic if you attempt to tell the stories of people of color. What I see more often is writers not putting in the work and then complaining about legitimate critique. The truth is it takes effort on the part of white writers to write these characters. It can be done and done well if you handle the work with care, honesty, humility, and respect.
Listening and learning are key. If it’s not something you can do well, again, amplify the voices of writers of color. That should be the bare minimum for everyone.
I appreciate the dialogue.
Best,
Nancy
I appreciate this column, Nancy and all of those who took the time to leave comments. Nancy–your statement that the Black character needs to be developed as the White hits home with me. My YA novel involves a White girl discovering that a Black girl is her second cousin. I’ve re-written it so many times to “get it right” that I’ve lost count. “Light, Bright, Damn Near White” by Michelle Godon Jackson has been helpful. As well as “Fly Girl”, Sherri Smith, “Family Secrets” by Catherine Staney and many more.
Hi Carol,
I think that’s the key to treat your Black characters just as humanely as you do your white ones. Give them agency, interiority, and complexity. Sounds like you’re putting in the necessary work with your YA novel.
I’ll have to check out the books you’ve recommended. Thanks for bringing them to our attention.
Best,
Nancy
Agency. Interiority. Complexity. I’m Going to pin those words somewhere I can see them a lot!! thanks.
Great post, thank you. I highly recommend Tracy Clark’s Chicago mystery series — first book Broken Places and Cheryl Head’s Charlie Mack Motown mysteries. Amazing writers and women.
Hi Sherry,
Yes! I know Tracy Clark and definitely recommend her work! I hope she checks out this blog and sees your wonderful endorsement of her books. I’ll have to check out Cheryl Head’s books, too.
Thanks for offering everyone stellar recommendations.
Best,
Nancy
Kathy, thanks for posting this. I immediately felt on the defensive when I read it, because one of the three protagonists in my book set in late 80s San Francisco is a homeless, black Vietnam veteran, and I’m as white as can be, was only homeless for a few weeks in the 70s, and am only a veteran of Vietnam war protests.
I can’t say I know the guy I modeled him after, but I did see him almost daily for a year and a half, and sometimes multiple times during the day, in my walking to work up Market Street in the city. I only spoke to him a few times, but I was always observant of his manner and seeming attitude.
In my novel, he became a street philosopher of sorts, a no-bullshit straight shooter who becomes tangled up with the other two white leads because of complications with his estranged daughter, who disdains him.
It’s been years since I’ve been close with a black person; someone I knew pretty well was my oldest sister’s boyfriend, whom I lived next door to for a while, but that seems a century ago. I didn’t set out to—and am not qualified to—write about his blackness, but more about the texture of his thoughts, which figure heavily in his actions. I didn’t know the guy begging outside my office building, but I knew this character.
The vet is a reformed alcoholic, and another white protagonist is a closet alcoholic. I’m not an alcoholic, but I had years of daily experience of being around alcoholics. A secondary, but still central character is gay. I’m not gay, but I lived with my model for that character (as well as another gay man) for a couple of years.
What I was after was to know these characters, to be in their heads, and for them to act in all the complicated, messed-up and sometimes redemptive ways we act. I’m not sure I succeeded with Jacob, the black vet, but I tried, as a writer tries, to get into the layers of his personhood.
It felt like truth to me, but then again, I’m the guy who went to live in Las Vegas thinking I’d save up money for college, worked at a good job for a year, and left with $7, because, blackjack. It’s all through a glass darkly with me.
Thanks for the provocative post; this is important stuff to think about.
Hi Tom,
I appreciate the detailed examples from your own work. It sounds like you know these people, these characters inside-out. As long as the story and the characters are layered and nuanced, I think you’re on the right track. You’ve had some rich experiences and you’ve met extraordinary people in your life. That’s story gold!
I don’t think your Black characters need to be dealing with racism directly on the page. Often, we tire of narratives that only center our struggles and our oppression as real as they are. We want to see Black characters fall in and out of love, pursue their ambitions, fight wars, raise families, scale mountains, etc. Our stories are as rich and varied as we are.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
This is great, Nancy. I never felt confident about writing across race lines until I got to know several black families due to my work with my late wife in her law practice (we did probate and estate planning–family, death, and money). I think that part of your checklist is invaluable, and I’d go beyond the need to know some black folks. I’d say you have to share their concerns in some meanigful way. Being in the midst of a huge fight over who belongs and who doesn’t in a sprawling black family, and getting the chance to speak at length with numerous members of that family was incredibly informative, obviously. But it was defending one family member in particular, fighting for her legitimate rights and seeing how they would affect her son, her mom, and her relationship with all the others in that extended clan made an even bigger difference. My late wife passed away in 2001, and that opportunity is no longer there for me, and I miss it. Even though I live in a very integrated city, those kinds of cross-race personal connections are difficult unless you find some cause to connect to, and then care not just about the cause but the people it affects. Even so, that doesn’t make up for just being able to sit and laugh and eat together.
The reason real people make the best foundation for character work is because they have an emotional effect on you. And you will write from that impact point in your mind and heart. You will write from the feelings aroused by that impression made by their being there with you–physical, emotional, real.
Thanks so much for sharing this with us here.
Hi David,
I’m so glad you shared here. You made some meaningful connections through your late wife’s estate planning work. There is such a racial divide that I think people have to be intentional about building those relationships. You’re right. There’s a huge emotional impact when you get really get to know people. I’ve read studies that show most people rarely have dinner in the home of someone of a different race. So when it’s time to write fiction, many people are relying on what they see in media or what they’ve heard historically. Little of it is rooted in truth that comes from real relationships.
As an aside, I’ve heard great things about your classes and workshops. Hope to attend one someday.
Best,
Nancy
Thank you for this post! I’m a white writer working on a historical fiction set in 1835 and I’m struggling with a free black female servant’s character. This was helpful, giving me research direction. Thanks!
Hi Linda,
I’m glad you found this post helpful as you research your book. I recommend two novels in case you haven’t read them: Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad and The Known World by Edward P. Jones. Oh, and one more: Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi
Best of luck!
Thanks,
Nancy
Your post is timely for me. I’m a white writer working on my first historical novel set in NC and SC in 1760s. The protagonist is a white female. Two of the other important characters are slaves and another is a free black woman. Learning how best to write their dialogue has been a real learning curve. I have edited the manuscript repeatedly and on each edit I’ve deleted more dialect. Since reading Stony the Road, by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. recently, I’ve removed all the dialect from my manuscript.
As writers, we learn from other writers through their comments as well as through their writing. At the age of 66, if I can learn how to write colonial-American and early-American black characters without using what Dr. Gates calls “Plantation Dialect,” perhaps there is hope for other white writers as we try to do our best writing and create authentic black characters.
Thank you for shedding more light on this topic in this blog post.
Hi Janet,
I appreciate your insight. I would definitely trust what Dr. Henry Louis Gates says. I’ll have to check out his take on “plantation dialect” which will be helpful for me in writing my next novel.
We’re all learning or at we should be. Thanks again!
Best,
Nancy
Nancy, your comment about getting to know people of color struck me with a question/thought/comment in reply. I have made friends with a handful of black families in the last 5-10 years, but they’re immigrants from Africa, not American-born people of color, and I often wonder if I can really draw on that experience, because the background is so different. It’s interesting because getting close to these families has lit me on fire about issues of race and diversity, but I still am not confident that I actually understand the African American experience in any meaningful way. Does that make sense?
Kathleen, you’re absolutely right. The African immigrant experience is quite different from that of African-Americans. I’ve been struck over the years by the differences in how people of color view America based on how they and/or their ancestors came here.
President Obama, for example, spoke and wrote about how his experience being the son of a Kenyan man and a white mother from Kansas gave him a certain perspective that was much different from that of Michelle who is the descendant of slaves.
America has a much more complicated and fraught relationship with the people it enslaved and their descendants.
Some white writers are buying into what they consume in media about the Black experience and we know that much of that is inaccurate and biased.
A lot of this comes back to broadening our experiences. Are you living in an integrated neighborhood? Do your children go to well-integrated schools? Are you in a diverse church community? Is your book club diverse and are you all reading books written by Black authors? Is your primary care doctor, dentist, attorney, financial planner Black? I hear some white writers say oh, I know the Black woman who used to clean my parent’s home. In that experience, you only understand the Black experience as one of servitude. Real relationships are built in more intimate spaces.
Hope that helps. Thanks for the discussion, as always, Kathleen.
I love Renee Swindle’s books. The more recent ones are WF. Also, Nicole Blades–if you’re looking for “new-to-you” authors.
Amy! We haven’t talked in forever! It’s great to see you here. Renee Swindle and Nicole Blades are both wonderful authors. Thanks for recommending their books.
Best,
Nancy
Hi, Nancy!
I’ve been working for many years on a fantasy storyverse involving shapeshifters and other magical beings. My lead in one of the stories, a character I’ve had for about two decades, is a white woman. I’ve been toying with changing the story she’s the lead in, considered making her a PoC character, for a few years now, since having I had my eyes opened to the problem of white being the default lead. But, as you’ve mentioned I worry about telling a story not my own, so I came up with a concept, and I’d welcome your input, if you have the time and inclination. First, the aspect remains the same: the character in question washes up on the shore of an island featuring a secret city populated by magical beings. The character is a something of a clean slate — she’s had her identity-related memories erased. Because of this, the goddess Gaia sees her as an opportunity to explore humanity (Gaia is trying to decide if humans should be viewed as Her children to be nurtured, or parasites to be rid of), as an avatar. The NEW concept is that, whenever the girl (who would be white and able-bodied on the island) *leaves* the island, Gaia transforms her physically into a person of a different race, or body-type (anorexic or heavily obese, or have dwarfism or giantism, etc), or gender, or gives her a disability, etc, so she experiences first-hand what other lives are like, and observes both the cruelty and kindness of others in relation to how they perceive her. And of course those of us outside of the communities she’d suddenly find herself temporarily a member of, would learn along with her. (And yes, she would be cognizant of her privilege in being able to change out of the form that’s marginalised by just going back to the island.) Or should I just stick with her being what I know well: a white (pagan, genderfluid, bisexual) girl? Or the fact that she has amnesia could work in favour of having her be PoC, as she wouldn’t have a memory of culture — she’d just be a generic person. But then maybe it would be upsetting to basically read a PoC character whose only tie to their ethnicity would be the colour of their skin? Sort of the same issue of some badass female characters just being a “man with tits” — she might just read as a white woman with dark skin? But then AGAIN, aside from discrimination, PoCs and their white neighbors in integrated neighborhoods share a lot of culture, enough that just writing a PERSON *could* be fine …
Hi Wolfie,
Your fantasy story is quite intriguing. You’ll ultimately have to decide how you want to define your characters. What I will say is that in fantasy, you have the power to create new civilizations with their own rules. I’d love to see a book on shapeshifters that subverts common expectations about racial hierarchy. Maybe your PoC character comes from a world where she’s always known power and influence, not oppression. That was part of the brilliance of Black Panther. We saw ourselves on-screen as rulers and inventors, not victims of racism.
Best of luck with this project!
Thanks,
Nancy
I didn’t read all of the comments, so I don’t know if anyone addressed this, but I have to say that sometimes a writer isn’t “trying” to make up and use a black character. When I write, the characters come to me. Fully formed. I wrote a novel manuscript that was a semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest eight years ago about an autistic black boy who runs away with his half-black cousin and a white girlfriend after his mother dies. I’m white. But Ethan came to me in a flash of insight as a full person. And he told me his story. It’s one of my favorite pieces.
Writing is art, and I think it has to be remembered that art is not hammered together following a blueprint that meets official standards, all squared edges and rigid rules that are guaranteed to make everyone happy. Telling a person of one race that he/she can’t ever write from the viewpoint of another is like saying a painter should never paint a hummingbird because he couldn’t possibly know what it feels like to be a hummingbird. It’s art. It’s perception. It’s exploration. It should always be respectful for sure, and the homework should be done, but it’s art. Should a person who is not a dancer be forbidden from writing about a dancer? Or you can’t write about being a cancer patient because you’ve never been one? Writers are sponges, soaking up a million minute observations. And we’ve all had enough hard life experiences to pull from.
Having said that, I was a little naive in understanding the hot climate out there on the issue until I had a new agent read this manuscript recently. She liked it, but as a social experiment gave it to her teenage son to read who loved it until he found out it was written by a white woman. The agent gave him this info when he was halfway through, and though he’d loved it until that point, he put it down and refused to finish it. At that point it wasn’t authentic to him. I think that sucks, for lack of a better word.
I totally understand anyone being offended by a demeaning piece of work, and I would side with that person no matter who they are. But a genuine piece of art that came from a good place shouldn’t be judged solely on who wrote it.
Women writers in days long past had to write under male pseudonyms. Should we go back to being told by someone, who considers themselves to be the authority, who is qualified to write anything? We’re all qualified.
I agree, Markie! If you’ve done your homework and you’re not being demeaning–your work shouldn’t be dismissed because of your gender or race.
Hi Markie,
Thanks for sharing your perspective. First, let me say that you have the absolute right to write anything you want. Others also have the right to critique it and point out where you may have erred.
I agree with you that writing is art. However, our art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It exists within the power structure of systemic racism. We can’t compare dancing and cancer to the experience of being Black in America – the ugly stain of slavery and the legacy we still live with today.
The other point I’ll make is that we all have blind spots. Stories and characters may come to us “fully formed” as you say, but we may be unaware of how our own biases impact our telling of those stories. That’s why it’s important to put in the work and to show your manuscript to Black readers who can look at it through the lens of their lived experiences.
I appreciate the dialogue.
Best,
Nancy
Nancy,
Thank you for your response. Please believe that I am sensitive to, and very aware of, race issues in our country. I’m not minimizing the issue. And your article made me question myself and my own work—a good thing. I think my point is that stories aren’t necessarily trying to tell what’s true for an entire demographic. Only what’s true for a few characters. My story was about one very sensitive boy and his girlfriend and cousin. Their experiences only. I wasn’t taking on in full what it is to be black in America. Nor would I. Nor could I. That would be like a man trying to say he knows what it’s like to be a woman in America. He couldn’t. But a fictional story, with homework thoroughly done, and you’re right, vetted through another’s experienced lense, could be told. Because it’s about one character’s experience. It’s not talking in generalizations about an entire demographic. Does that make sense? Wally Lamb wrote She’s Come Undone, first person female POV, and he’s a man. And he nailed it. It can be done.
And I agree with you that we all write looking through our own lenses and are influenced unknowingly by our unconscious biases and programming. That’s where self-awareness, homework, and trusted opinions come in. Believe me, I’ve asked myself if I’m being naive about XYZ when working on a piece. But I dig deep. A good writer will dig deep. And I would WANT an early reader to tell me where I got it wrong! Because I don’t just want my reader to suspend disbelief, I want my reader to feel like the story on the page is real. I want the reader to FEEL it. And that can’t happen if the writer’s piece is shallow and full of lame stereotypes and one dimensional scenes.
I so appreciate your article and the conversation it’s spurred here. I think my frustration is with the division out there in the public. I think we’ve all suffered horrific pain in our lives at some points. No one demographic holds claim to all the suffering (NOT to diminish anyone’s experience or pain in the least, or the horrific blight on humanity that was slavery). But we’ve all been hurt somewhere by someone to some degree. Some more than others for sure, but some equally as much. Broad statements don’t apply to everyone. Nobody could say, “This is what it is to be a white woman in America”, and think it applies to every single one. Nobody could say that my particular life and accomplishments and losses and difficulties and heartbreaks and traumas and joys are exactly the same as every other white woman in America. There are too many variables, which apply to every person. Economics, parenting, extended family, geographic location, personality, traumatic experiences, inner will. I’m frustrated with broad generalizations. I love hearing the individual stories, which are always influenced by that person’s biases, upbringing, experiences, society. I’m fascinated with the individuals. What they think and feel and have learned. What makes them strong, what makes them weak. What motivates them, what pushes their buttons. I’m fascinated about human nature. And that’s what I explore in my writing.
I think my opinion on the topic in general sums up like this: I want to see the lines between everyone, if not erased, then at least blurred in a positive way, where we all can be understood and understanding of others. Where we can all try to walk a bit in someone else’s shoes. Nothing brings clearer understanding than living another’s experience for yourself. I believe in empathy and a willingness to see things from another’s point of view. Not giant razor-wired fences with “Keep Out” signs. Respectfully hearing each other’s stories applies to life and to writing. Maybe magical thinking for sure in our current world, but I will call it hopeful.
Thanks so much!
Hi Nancy,
I love your article and the very thoughtful way that you’ve responded to the comments. One thing I’ve heard in gatherings with writers of color is how exhausting it is to do the cultural work of raising awareness of the persistence of racism, implicit bias, and stereotypes, in literature and in life. I’ve heard writers ask outright for white people in the audience to go home and engage in the difficult conversations with our families and friends that will help raise that awareness. So Nancy, I greatly appreciate and honor the effort you’ve made to shine a light on these issues. And I hope those of us who’ve had the benefit of learning from you can carry it forth in our writing and in our conversations, so that the task of moving us forward doesn’t rest only on you and other writers of color. Thank you!
Mary, yes, yes, yes. Thank you so much. I often quote the great Toni Morrison who said, “I can’t be the doctor and the patient.” I appreciate you.
Best,
Nancy
You are right on point, especially the topic of black sidekicks. More than not they are placed in the story to build up the white main character-look how progressive he is…he’s got a black best friend and everything! I with this was a new phenomenon but I remember watching movies with my father and experiencing the same thing. A common troupe is to introduce the black partner/best friend and kill him off, thus motivating our hero. The answer is more black main characters-and not the cookie cutter former (fill in the blank) who rose up from the mean streets and turned his back on the gang to make his momma proud. I always think this won’t happen until the black main character appears in more movies…so here’s hoping 21 Bridges is a hit!
Thanks, James Roby, for your comment. It’s easy for all of us to fall into these tropes. That’s why this conversation has been so important. At least now more people will be aware as they’re crafting their narratives.
Thanks for putting me onto 21 Bridges. I just checked out the trailer. I love Chadwick Boseman. Can’t wait to see this movie!
Best,
Nancy
I grew up with friends of all colors, and I still have friends of all colors, so my stories always have black people in them simply because that is the world I know.
One starts out as intimidating, but gradually turns into the best friend/peer mentor of the protag. He is not magical or special; he’s just a man who…yes… came from a poor, fatherless household…but who then took on the role of provider for his mother and younger sibling, and is now passing his attitude on to my protag. (Fried chicken-yes. Ebonics and gang behavior-absolutely not!)
In my other story, a black woman visits a Blue Ridge mountain town with a group of artists, and my (local) protag is fascinated by her because she is so unique in his world. She’s not his love interest, but more the one who instigates the plot. (She’s rich, well educated, a bit amused at being such a novelty to him, and her skin color is a focal topic.)
My worry is that since I am white, my black characters will be overly nitpicked, when I am, in fact, writing characters who are inspired by exactly what I do know.
Hi Lynette,
Thanks for your input and the examples you shared about your own work. I agree that your book will be critiqued and scrutinized. That’s part of putting our work out there.
You mentioned having friends of various racial backgrounds, including Black. As I mentioned in my piece, I think it is important to expand our circles to get to know more people outside of our own race. I have friends in the LGBTQ community; however, I would be careful to avoid using language and tropes that are stereotypical since I’m not part of that community. They can do it. I can’t. Or at least I shouldn’t.
You mentioned “fried chicken” specifically so I presume you’re aware of the racist history associated with Black people and fried chicken. You also mentioned a Black male character growing up without a father. That plays into a damaging narrative about Black men not being present in the lives of their children.
I’d definitely recommend engaging Black readers to take a look at your story from a sensitivity standpoint.
Again, thanks for having the discussion.
Best,
Nancy
I’m curious to know what you’ve learned about using dialects during that time.? I’m going to be writing historical fiction loosely based on my family coming up off a Virginia plantation and migrating to West Virginia. I have no idea what black Virginian dialect was like circa 1870, so I am baffled at the thought of giving them voice.
Any suggestions?
This post made me think about my own recent novel. I wanted to write about Detroit, a city I went to school in and am regularly in and out of because its the hub of the Metro area I live in and everything is happening there. I got an idea about a white woman who was in subplot to my last novel. She drove out of the small town at the end of the book & ended up in Detroit. I knew I could handle the setting but then a black police detective entered the picture and it was clear they’d be friends and working together. I made him black because half the Detroit police force is black and I felt it would be cheating to have all white people in a black city. I went to college in Detroit and it was a very positive experience, but not without conflict, so I brought that knowledge to the story. Still worried, but heard from a black woman who works with me that it was fine, I hadn’t done any stereotyping. She had some examples of racist tropes like “Is his character there because of the myth of the black man’s sexual prowess?” and he wasn’t so that was a relief. I didn’t use any of your examples, either. Another sigh of relief. Thank you!
HI, I have just finished a novel where the main character turned out to be half black half white, much to my astonishment as it was/is semi autobiographical. He is caught between the lineage of two cultures. As much white as black. I am wondering as I send this off to a publisher how legit it is to write of such a person even though I feel he is in ghostly form leaning over my shoulder. Probably not an issue as I do not imagine I will get a publisher.
What is your question exactly? I’m in interested in racially ambiguous characters ( as I an a racially ambiguous character). What I mean by that is by and large the outside world does not recognize me as being African-American. This has caused me to have many interesting racial experiences, unlike most Americans, I think. I live partially in both worlds, but reside fully in neither. Well…I believe it’s a cultural spectrum anyway, not only about race, but socioeconomic standing, which primarily dictates access to everything.