Whose Character Is It Anyway?
By John J Kelley | March 29, 2019 |
Photo by Pexels via Pixabay Free License
Recently my latest creative pursuit, a departure from my stalled work in progress, has started bumping against a writerly controversy about which I had previously been only vaguely aware, that of authors receiving sharp pushback on their characters and in some cases their entire story concept because of perceived cultural disrespect or disregard. And though my pursuit has to date been a personal one, I still found myself chafing under what at first seemed arbitrary and potentially insurmountable barriers. You see, my current exercises involve crafting scenes in which I seek to embody characters unlike myself, with life experiences far removed from my own. In doing so I imagine their worlds, borne of research and admittedly from instinct too, as with any fiction. On one level the exercise is simply a creative challenge. But it is has also become an emotional touchstone since my attempts to “walk a mile in their shoes” have reawakened my empathy in an increasingly isolating world. Makes for good stuff, huh?
You would think so, or at least I did. But my joy in this new pursuit has since tempered. You see, last week I stumbled upon a New York Times article about author Amélie Wen Zhao withdrawing her debut novel, Blood Heir, from publication following accusations of insensitivity and outright racism in her portrayal of a fantasy world in which characters born with special powers are enslaved. Though Zhao, a Chinese immigrant, has explained the inspiration for the novel stemmed in part from largely overlooked indentured servitude prevalent across Asia as well as her personal experience as an outsider, criticisms soon overtook the initial positive reception of advance readers, leading to her decision to withdraw the novel prior to its scheduled June release.
Not having an advance copy myself, I cannot assess the full veracity of the complaints. Yet the situation immediately struck me as unfair. After all, an author chose to forego a publishing dream pursued for most of her young life right at the cusp of its fruition. In the days since, I have devoured reports of other recent works withdrawn from publication, both before and after their market releases. And though I now have more insight into the issues at play, my feelings remain torn. So I turn to you, fellow Unboxers, to help unravel the decidedly thorny matter of the degree to which writers should shape their creations to meet the expectations – or demands? – of potential readers.
Admittedly, the issues are complex, given that they touch upon matters of identity, race, and culture. In other words, it is a territory layered in shades of gray. But for sake of discussion, let’s describe two writing extremes — 1) Staying in Your Lane, i.e., writing only from your direct personal life experience and 2) Moving in All Directions, i.e., feeling empowered to speak for characters of any background or life experience.
Staying in Your Lane
In hindsight, my first novel closely adhered to the #ownvoices mantra, though it predates the actual hashtag by a few years. I, as a gay man, wrote a tale of a gay protagonist, albeit one from a distant era. And while the story was populated by a cast of diverse characters, including secondary arcs for strong female characters, the primary thread was definitely informed by my own life experience. Is that how it should always be? Should we all ground the emotional heart of our stories, regardless of genre, in cultures similar to those in which we were born, with central characters ultimately reflecting aspects of our own life experiences?
Of course, doing so doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing. Just weeks after Zhao withdrew her debut, author Kosoko Jackson withdrew publication of his own debut novel, A Place for Wolves. It hardly mattered that his protagonists were two young gay Americans once criticisms of his decision to set their love story amidst the recent genocide in the Kosovo War, and the portrayal of a particular antagonist, began to rage.
Moving in All Directions
On the other hand, should writers have free rein to shape their fictional worlds however they see fit, fully unencumbered to speak for a character of any ethnicity, identity or creed? After all, we share an innate humanity. So in that vein if a writer crafts a tale with pure intention, mining common dreams and drives, he or she should be able to navigate the shoals safely, particularly if they enlist the counsel of members of groups represented in their tales. Since the dawn of time, storytellers have breathed life into characters and cultures far beyond their own experiences; and the best have always found a way to do so with respect and a healthy dose of humility when portraying characters of our diverse world.
What do you think? Do you believe writers should freely speak in any voice and move within any culture for their creations? Or do you feel there are limits as to how far one should push the needle before veering into cultural appropriation or risking insensitivity? Have you had personal experiences, positive or negative, with works touching upon sensitive matters of race, identity or culture? Please share your thoughts in the comments; I look forward to hearing them.
[coffee]
John J Kelley crafts tales of individuals at a crossroads, exploring themes of growth, reconciliation and community. His debut novel, The Fallen Snow, about a young soldier’s homecoming at the close of WWI, received a Publishers Weekly starred review and earned an Honorable Mention nod at the 2012 Foreword Reviews Book-of-the-Year Awards.
Born and raised in the Florida panhandle, John graduated from Virginia Tech and for a time served as a military officer. Today he lives with his partner in Washington, DC.
One irony of the cases you mention is that Jackson appears to have been one of those Twitter people who were attacking Zhao’s work only to have the mob turn on him for his own book. Where will it end?
I had read that too. This was one of those cases where my initial idea for the post, when I *thought* I had clear point of view got murkier the more I delved into the matter. Jackson had also advised other writers as a sensitivity reader to help stories avoid harmful tropes and stereotypes. Frankly I feel for both writers, and felt some relief that I don’t write in the YA space, which seems particularly treacherous to new authors.
I can see both points of view. Clearly care must be taken for actual history in terms of marginalized populations, extending also to allusions or parallels in allegorical tales. But I also fear we’re at risk of sacrificing creativity and the power of fiction to open eyes – both our own and our readers – if we bind authors with rules of conduct on their writings.
As a writer who at times struggles to free my own voice, the last thing I need is an outside force pressuring me to stifle it even further.
Hi John, It’s a tricky issue, isn’t it? I heard about Zhao’s withdrawal of her book a few weeks ago. When I saw a few of the particulars (mainly that it involved slavery), I was, at first, bristling (defensive?) and also a bit terror-stricken. But I had to let it go.
Why? Because I have a fairly major slavery component in my series. Mine involves Goths who are enslaved after they are conquered by Romans–an element that has a verifiable historical precedent. But as I understood Zhao’s circumstance, hers did, too. Although my slave characters are not my protagonists, and I wouldn’t consider slavery to be a central issue, it still gave me pause.
While I want to be sensitive, and I certainly would never want to offend anyone who might read my work, I also feel I have to stay true to my story. I’m anxious, but I also can’t imagine completely removing this element. Hopefully it’s a case where awareness is the first step to avoiding pitfalls.
And hey, maybe being an unpublished nobody has its benefits after all. Thanks for bringing it forward. Looking forward to hearing what others have to say.
I agree, Vaughn. If writers were to remove every story element they might not be sufficiently informed or experienced at the start of the process, I don’t know how many of us would make it through an initial draft.
I hope the key is ultimately to recognize those elements in the revision process, both educating ourselves and also employing a diverse range of beta readers on matters that we might otherwise not see. Bringing the best of our stories forward, which is the goal of the editing process anyhow.
Vaughn, I was really nervous about people misunderstanding my intentions in my story, which deals with slavery, civil rights, racially motivated violence, etc. I was fully prepared to be ripped apart online. So far, that hasn’t happened. Maybe the really angry people just haven’t gotten a hold of it yet…
A story belongs to the people who love it, not the ones who hate it. No amount of politics changes that.
Yes, it’s always important to remember that ultimately our writings are intended for an audience of one, the sole reader* who is ready for it.
*We simply hope there are a large number of those individuals and that they will find the story, and vice-versa.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this issue recently because two different editors have commented on stories of mine, questioning whether they were “my stories to tell.” So I wrote an essay called “Whose stories Can We Tell?” I don’t know if I have the courage to send it out. If we follow this argument to its logical conclusion—that we can only tell stories from our own experience—then, as a white, cisgender woman I can only write stories from that perspective.
And yet I try to write novels and short fiction from diverse perspectives that reflect the diverse world we live in, with characters who are gay, Latinx, and black. I have stories with male protagonists, and it is very common for fiction writers to write cross-gender stories. In my work in progress I have a non-binary character and worry about getting pushback about that.
On the other hand, I do acknowledge that there are stories I have no business writing about, because I don’t know enough. So I do see some legitimacy to the argument that sometimes it’s best to “stay in your own lane.”
I would love to read your essay so I hope you will put it out there. While delving into this, I kept thinking of parallels to the discussion of diversity in Hollywood roles.
SNL recently did a humorous take on the matter, which almost made an appearance in the post. In my mind, writing is a different matter; but I appreciated the humor.
That skit is GOLD.
That’s the best thing I’ve seen in ages!
I think encouraging diversity in authors and readers is a wonderful thing. And respect and research are key to building characters of any kind. But to write only from our own voice is wrong. Should Garth Stein not have written in the perspective of a dog? What a loss to literature that would have been. If all my characters were white women from the burbs it would be pretty darn boring. I echo that people are more alike in their underlying humanity than race, gender, political affiliation, etc. Fiction is about making stuff up, for heaven’s sake. It broaden’s our mind and sensitivity to take someone else’s perspective. Write what’s in your heart and let the market decide.
“Write what’s in your heart” – That may be my new mantra, joining the “Say it Simply” note that has been above my desk for nearly a decade.
Thank you for writing this, John. It’s an extremely important topic, especially now, and needs to be opened up on a safe space like this one. As a former social work clinician and professor, I believe this is, in fact, a question with far-reaching implications—touching on all forms of cultural identity (gender, race, sexual orientation, age, religion, etc.)
As with every question that offers a yes-or-no choice, it seems to me that there are a number of approaches in the middle. At a minimum, an author needs to seek “sensitivity readers” who can tell you if you got it right (more likely, where you got it wrong). An author can go even further, living for a while with the culture he or she wishes to write about. There are many examples of authors who did that; the earliest one I recall is John Howard Griffin’s Black Like Me in 1961. (I’m offering no opinion on Griffin, just using him as an example.)
Is that enough? Will it ever be enough?
The question is inevitably emotional and subjective. For example, as a descendant of Holocaust survivors, I found myself royally pissed off at Jodi Picoult’s The Storyteller (as I was with Small Great Things, by the way). Part of me wanted to tell her “This isn’t your story. Find something else to write about.” Not fair, but it’s what I felt.
On the other hand, am I limited to writing only about women who are exactly like me? That seems equally wrong.
I used to pose a similar question to my students about whether a person coming to a clinic for therapy ought to be matched, as closely as possible, to a therapist with a similar gender, race, religion, etc. That always provoked a heated and fascinating discussion. My own experience has been that I could be a good therapist for someone if I could find our common humanity—a shared experience of longing, shame, guilt, or hope—while also being honest about the limits of ability to understand and asking, “Teach me, please. Tell me what I need to know in order to be here for you.”
I think the task, as a writer, is similar.
Apologies for writing so much, and thank you again, John!
No apologies. I wanted to hear what others had to say on the matter, and you bring up several good points. I found your analogy to therapist and patient to be particularly potent.
Writers by their nature are both exploring society for themselves while offering up insights for readers to absorb for their own journey. And we never stop learning how to perform our role better.
I wrote that I believe anyone should be allowed to tell any fictional character’s story, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t react honestly when their telling offends you. It could be very helpful to that author and to others to hear your response when you are upset that they wrote of the Holocaust but were not closely related to it. Fiction should start conversations rather than be perceived as an authority or final word on how people, history and ideas actually are. It’s because of these types of debates and the compassion we learn from them that I think it’s important for both authors and reviewers/readers to speak freely. Thanks for your comments, Barbara.
Somehow I missed your comment earlier, Sheri. I think you make a good point when you say, “Fiction should start conversations rather than be perceived as an authority or final word on how people, history and ideas actually are.”
As for accepting the criticisms that come from the worlds we craft, the heartfelt criticisms the one advance reader made on Jackson’s novel struck me as genuine, and on point. It’s fair to question why a touching gay love story should be set amidst a very recent genocide.
While it may not have been the author’s intent, I could imagine how someone from the region with possible ties to those caught in the conflict might well be disturbed if the atrocities seemed only to serve as a backdrop for propelling the story. I imagine it might well feel gratuitous. Which goes back to having a diligent awareness while in the writing and again in the editing, I suppose.
John, you’ve identified a factor that often bothers me: when an horrific historical event is arbitrarily included as a cheap way to add drama to a story. Naming no titles, there have been books I’ve thrown across the room for using the Holocaust, 9/11, etc. in this way.
Yes. Setting a book in a time of trauma in some cases adds a great deal to a story – depth of emotion, heightened tension, a sense of realism – to a story. And I often suspect the setting or historical events may in fact be part of the author’s inspiration for a story. If well crafted, such stories may even raise awareness of past events.
But there are times, with some books, where it strikes me as gimmicky more than enlightening.
I don’t think any topics are off limits to writers. Anything common to the human condition over history is fair game. Slavery exists. Why is it suddenly not okay to write about it? Do critics think that a book that has slavery in it will suddenly give someone the idea that they should enslave others? I assure you, humans need no one outside of themselves to give them bad ideas. We have them all inside of us already.
It sounds like in some cases people are being piled on because it’s the popular, self-righteous, virtue-signaling thing to do right now. But that doesn’t mean every case is that way. I don’t know the details of the particular cases you mention, so I can’t comment on that. But certainly when it comes to how the story is told and through whose eyes, that’s where things get tricky.
For me, research and beta readers from a group that was represented in my debut novel (with whose history I have no personal experience and for which I have no “right” to speak) worked for making secondary characters who were not like me come alive. But my protagonists were from my own race and social class. And truly, that’s who I was writing for. I’m glad that black readers have enjoyed the book, but I always knew that the primary audience would be white.
But “stay in your lane” can get really restrictive if you follow it to its logical end. I’m a straight white middle-aged woman from a white-collar, middle-class upbringing. So far, my protagonists have also been. Now, does that mean I can’t have a protagonist who is from a lower or higher socioeconomic class? That I can’t write a male protagonist? That I can’t write an elderly protagonist? Most people would think those restrictions absurd.
But when you venture into sexual identity or preference, or race, or national origin, that’s where people get twitchy. Perhaps because it’s so easy to do it poorly when you haven’t had the real experience of being in a marginalized group. But also because people from those non-white, non-straight groups have their own stories to tell and they want the chance to tell them and they don’t want others benefiting (monetarily or through the accumulation of prestige) from *their* stories. (Kind of like white colonizers benefited for centuries from *their* resources, *their* labor, *their* land.) They want a chance to be published, and they don’t want their histories and experiences traded on by someone else.
I totally get that and I am cheering them on. White middle class writers like myself have had a long time at the table. Let’s make some room for others to join us who will challenge us, make us grow, and help us to all become better people together. There’s plenty of room.
Excellent points, Erin. I was particularly struck by your understanding of where your writing has been “so far.” I think the reasons this is hitting me now are twofold. First, due to some life changes underway and frankly a strong wall of writers block, I’m taking a step back from the idea of writing a new novel. Yet whenever I write short stories, I inexplicably find myself drawn to stories far flung from my own experience.
So for the first time I am recognizing the hurdles involved with moving outside my “lane,” both in the writing and in having them reach the world should I desire to publish them.
Interesting! I have found that when I write short stories, I tend to do the same thing! I write more male protagonists and from more rungs of society. And definitely short stories are a great place to write outside of our experience because we are writing more of a “moment” of someone’s life, which is something we can more easily observe than the whole of the experiences and upbringing that made them into who they are now, right?
Yes, I do think it has something to do with writing about a key moment, or a small slice of someone’s life.
I am beginning to recognize that as the power of the short story genre, just as true for writers as it is for readers.
Strange isn’t it that most of the comments and blowback about the appropriation of culture etc. is about ‘marginalized’ groups? Poor, non-white, etc. But not the way the 2% is presented in most fiction, especially in the trade romance, regardless of race, sex, national origin, etc. There are few authors that have, or could acquire, that experience.
Or is this more prevalent in literary fiction?
Lol. Because we all like to dream? Your comment instantly brought to mind a scene I recall from one of the Dan Brown novels, in which he describes a private jet in excruciating detail. “I got it, Dan, you’ve been on a few. Thanks, bud.”
Seriously, though, I imagine it has to do with the fact that publishing has only in relatively recent history grown more diverse. With the new interest that has brought to the publishing industry, I think there’s just a keener focus on who is bringing these new stories to life, and perhaps a sensitivity when authors are seen as merely trying to catch the wave.
If the stories are compelling and well-written, I don’t know that it matters, or should. But it is reality.
Perfectly said Erin!
I agree it’s a thorny issue. And I’m equally torn.
An AOC whom I greatly respect asked if we really need any more white women writing “Gone with the Wind” inspired novels. And it’s a good question. She emphasized that publishers need to do a better job buying works by diverse authors, which only happens when publishing houses and literary agencies have diverse staffs.
But on the other hand, I agree that good storytellers should have the ability to work in whatever lane suits their tale.
I work at my local library, and I’ve noticed a lot of readers never read outside their lane. They’ll only pick up books by authors who look familiar. If these authors aren’t bringing some diversity to their books, then I fear those readers won’t ever encounter a fresh viewpoint on the world.
Seeing what circulates has shown me that a lot of readers aren’t reading to be challenged. They’re reading for comfort, which is fine. But I feel sad that they’re missing out on the wider range of literature, and I hope writers who are willing to take risks might help prompt a spark of curiosity in their readers to learn more.
Thanks for sharing this perspective, Ruth!
It reminds me of the fact that Harriet Beecher Stowe’s novel, written by a white woman for white women, was an instrument of change in the years leading up to the Civil War. It was easy for white northerners to ignore and feel absolved of slavery–and then there’s this book that everyone’s reading (and they read it because everyone they know is reading it!) and it’s written by a principled, privileged white woman with no experience of what she is writing about. But it makes an impact because the author is like the people who are reading her–so they trust her.
Now, there had been slave narratives long before 1852, but the horrible, sinful reality of it is that a lot of white people just assumed they were exaggerating or outright lying about their lives and the conditions under which slaves lived. Surely it couldn’t be THAT bad, right? And you run into those same attitudes today.
I think there’s room for white writers to talk about race. We have to. It’s our reality. There’s also room for authors of color to talk about race. And I certainly wouldn’t say that a black author couldn’t write about a white character. Or that a gay writer couldn’t write about straight characters. We just need to write from a place of respect, desiring a clearer understanding of each other.
Thank you, Ruth. As Erin said, you offer a valuable perspective on something, that now that you mention it, I’ve always noticed as well. A good number of readers tend to stay in their own lanes, so to speak, as to the authors they’ll read.
And thank goodness for Harriett Beecher Stowe! Your highlighting her impact on the antislavery movement, Erin, reminded me of another author I had come across while writing my own debut, which touched upon a WWI soldier’s PTSD.
In my research, I discovered that one of the most highly regarded fictional stories (a trilogy actually) exploring the challenges of those suffering what was at the time called “shell shock” was written by Pat Barker, a white, female British author, some 70 years after the close of the war. While PTSD is still highly misunderstood, and all too often dismissed or downplayed, it is writings such as Barker’s which open reader’s eyes on the matter.
And that brings up another good point, John. There are times when an outside observer can articulate things that a sufferer cannot (or cannot yet) articulate. I have writer friends who write about mental illness, not because they suffer from it but because they have watched friends and loved ones suffer from it. Or think of those with mental or physical handicaps who simply cannot tell their story? Who will speak when they cannot? Hopefully, a compassionate friend who wants the world to know that person’s story.
Good point!
“Or think of those with mental or physical handicaps who simply cannot tell their story? Who will speak when they cannot? Hopefully, a compassionate friend who wants the world to know that person’s story.”
This.
A few years ago, at an SCBWI conference, Mitali Perkins asked each of us to write down why we write–and for me it was to give voice to those who have none.
A thorny issue indeed. But I’m not sure what “stay in your lane” would mean for the creative imagination. Are we to limit what we imagine? That, to me, seems like censorship, whether it is self-imposed or culturally imposed out of fear of reprisals.
I agree. And admittedly I chose two extremes, without providing a lot of context. I just felt that might be the best way to invite the community to fill in the layers in between.
Then again, it might have been outside my lane to have taken that approach. Gee, there are so many new opportunities for imposter syndrome when it comes to these matters. My inner critic will be delighted to hear that. ;)
Yes, I think people are filling in the gray areas and helping us think more deeply about the complex issues involved. A very good thing.
My inner critic needs no more encouragement either! But maybe we are all imposters of one kind or another when we write, daring to hope that someone will believe in our fictive dream… Thanks for the post, John.
What a writer produces under his or her own flag is 100% up to the writer. Period. What the marketplace does with it is another matter. Whenever an independent writer must bow to the personal “sensibilities” of another, a more subtle and sinister form of slavery is active. Think book banning and book burning. Complexities arise only when we begin to pick and choose what is insensitive and what is not. Ms. Zhao is more likely to find a willing publisher now than at the beginning. I wish her all the best.
Personally, I’m hopeful both books may yet find their way to market. Frankly, they may find a larger audience due to the controversies (which is an entire rabbit hole of its own).
My understanding of Zhao’s situation is she volunteered to pull the book, with support but not pressure from the publisher. At least that is what both expressed. Of course, we may never know what transpired behind the scenes.
Wow! This is so timely for me. Some of my short stories are about white male racists (I’m a white female progressive, if that matters.) I try to get into the heads of people who commit hate crimes. They often use the N word. In an on-line editing group, I was criticized for using the N word outside of direct quotes, when–for example–I was conveying the MC’s point of view in the third person. I did not use quotes because it was his thoughts, not dialogue. They are certainly not my thoughts. This is a variation on this thread, but I bring it up because I struggle with how to conveying racist thought that belongs to a character, not me. Or should the N word and other offensive words never be used under any circumstance?
Good question, Carolyn. As a lesbian, I take offense when someone calls me a “dyke.” But in certain circles, I use that term as a part of my self-description because I know my listeners will understand my meaning.
A racist character will use and think in racist terms. I really don’t know how you’d avoid that. My advice is to know you’re going to get pushback, and you may have to deal with fallout if the story is published.
But I’m not African-American, so I’d say my two cents on using that term in a story isn’t worth much.
Geez, I wish I knew. Growing up in the Deep South, I heard it, not in my own household, although I do recall a cringeworthy moment when a family member tried to explain its use, redefining it in a way that strained belief to the point of absurdity. So, in that particular instance, I to this day feel a certain rawness upon hearing it.
My instinct is no publisher would touch it these days, at least in new writings. But perhaps others have better insights.
Carolyn, in my case, I had started with 4 or 5 occurrences of the n-word in my manuscript, all in dialogue. As I edited, I kept only 2, and the reason I kept them was that they were necessary to the plot. If they weren’t said, something that needed to happen didn’t happen. To remove them would have changed the plot. BUT, none of my POV characters were outwardly or purposefully racist, so it would have made no sense to include them in the narrative. I expected pushback even from these two occurrences. But because they didn’t bother my early black beta readers, and because they were necessary to the plot (which may have been why they didn’t bother those early readers) I left them in.
Those are really good examples, Erin, of when something controversial might be included, even essential. I think your assessing them from the perspective of if they were crucial to the plot is a good measure.
Good discussion. I’ve written before how grateful I am that white writers wrote of their experiences in Asia and Africa. Did it rob someone of their own voice? No. And now I’m equally happy to see marginalized voices being published. But how limiting it is for everybody if we’re only allowed to “stay in your own lane.” This whole diversity thing is making us split hairs instead of making us more expansive.
I’m a writer. I have an imagination. My interests are varied. I write to make sense of the world, to understand the human condition. So I’m going to keep writing what interests me. Let the free market decide if they want to read my stories (what I like about self-publishing). Of course, I realize that between me and the reader are several gatekeepers, but I hope that they choose the BEST stories.
I think you have the right attitude, Vijaya.
PS – I hope you can join the next dissection discussion. Will be nice to exchange ideas with you again!
John, thanks. Which book are you all reading? I’ve loved reading the book dissections–ending up buying some of those books!
I don’t think I joined because even after 2.5 yrs, I can’t get used to the FB platform. I can’t think with all those things on my screen. lol. I’m hopelessly old-fashioned.
We are reading The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden, starting discussion on Apr 11. For some reason I was thinking you had joined one of the first discussions. I’m just crazy, I guess ;).
That makes two of us :)
I have recently come across the same issues in my shorts but in the context of autism. When I have written about autism or Down’s Syndrome, I have been attacked on writing groups and forums for them. My latest one, I used an outdated word for a particular description. I was given a lengthy private message about how that word shouldn’t be used and because it was my main character that she had become “unredeemable” due to the use of that word. The whole story was on redemption. When I contacted a family member who actually has first hand knowledge of this particular disability I described in my story, she had to go look it up.
Writers need to write from their own truths. As was mentioned earlier, I feel like writing is becoming very censored. For my scripts, I use sensitivity readers to make sure I’m showing a particular character correctly and believably. For my stories, I never know where they come from and I write from my heart and my personal truth – of that story.
It’s a confusing time – just as it is for comedians who now have to redo their schticks because they are no longer “appropriate” or actors as seen above. That’s my two cents.
“For my stories, I never know where they come from and I write from my heart and my personal truth – of that story.”
This so resonates with me, Libby. That is how I have alway felt about my own writing. If I were to eliminate that, I may as well not write. That sounds harsh, but it’s true.
As for your comments on autism and Down’s syndrome, I can imagine how difficult that must be. Have you ever seen the sitcom “Atypical” on Netflix (I think)? I love the show, which to my understanding has both fans and detractors in the autistic community. Something your comment brought to mind was an episode in which the father, after years of avoiding the community to which his wife was heavily involved, attends a meeting with her and manages to offend nearly everyone because he doesn’t know the proper terms, or the current ones, to describe what he sees.
And yet the audience knows that the very reason he is attending, putting himself on display like that, is because he loves his son, and is coming to terms with the fact he needs help to support his son as he moves into adulthood.
Thanks so much for opening this up to discussion, John. It’s been plaguing me as well. As a 45yo straight cis white writer who’s never NOT been around diversity, I’ve been baffled at the “stay in your own lane” mentality. As an artist, the very act of creating art is to change our own perspectives–to see the world thru another pair of eyes, and to be anything but safe.
Yet here we are in a strange new place where we are being told by a younger generation what we are allowed and NOT allowed to do. I say this without an ounce of anger or lack of empathy. I get why it’s such a touchy subject. Marginalized communities are tired of others trying to own or profit off of what is originally theirs. But thinking of life experiences as intellectual property sort of baffles me, too, because as all of us our members of the human race, we should be sharing experiences with each other and trying to see the world from each other’s eyes. If we’re now limiting that, we only divide each other further.
It’s like a marginalized voice not being allowed to write from a straight, cis, white perspective. Or a female writer not being allowed to write a male character in her romance novel, or vice versa. The more white washing I do in my novels and characters, the more I fabricate my own existence–because my existence involves people of all backgrounds and beliefs. Diversity is a way of life and all that I know. Can an atheist writer not write a Christian character? Or vice versa?
My most recent story has a white character who’s adopted an Asian culture thru fashion, I was advised it may be considered cultural appropriation–a term that was new to me. I had to look it up! To me, I was celebrating a beautiful culture, yet various online articles indicated that others wouldn’t see it that way. So I had to change one of my most favorite things about this character.
I’m all for promoting diversity and lifting marginalized voices as I climb, and I hope the world doesn’t try to eliminate my perspective in the process, because all of our perspectives count. As writers, we observe and create, and our creations become products of our observations. Maybe we don’t get everything right every time, but our vulnerabilities unite us, and we should be helping each other get things right and grow as individuals, not drawing lines in the sand to separate us. Besides, fusing together cultures can sometimes become new and exciting inventions. Think of all the international foods we’ve blended!
Anyway, thanks again for this evocative post. We should all be talking about it thru empathy and understanding. :)
Empathy and understanding, for our characters (of course), for our readers (to the degree we can) and ultimately to ourselves.
PK, it sounds as though those critics attributed your character’s “cultural appropriation” to you–an error that is all too common.
How often in this forum have we bewailed readers who blithely assume that the views of this or that character are shared by the author? Are readers becoming illiterate or unimaginative? Unable to distinguish between an author and the author’s creation? (How, then, do these people read murder mysteries?)
“How, then, do these people read murder mysteries?”
Don’t say it … I don’t want to know (hides face).
Seriously, though, it is a good point. Reminds me of the (relatively mild) uproar about Sam Rockwell, who won the supporting actor for his role playing a character with racist tendencies in “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.”
I suspect it’s more that people feel – wrongly, I believe – that the characters are drawing attention to behavior they find repulsive, rather than realistic portrayals of how how some people act.
Wow, that SNL skit in the comments section is becoming more and more accurate. As an artist creating FICTIONAL characters and stories, it really bugs me that there is so much pressure to find “lanes” that we should feel compelled to stay in. But as a writer who actually wants to occasionally sell a book, it behooves me to stay on top of current cultural sentiment.
I have no easy answers to offer, but I applaud you for shedding more light on this increasingly important concern. Good luck making your own artistic choices!
Thanks, Keith. Humor helps, doesn’t it? You know that well ;).
Thank you John for the post today.
My knee-jerk reaction is to quote Potter Stewart: “Censorship reflects a society’s lack of confidence in itself,” and to agree with John that: “What a writer produces under his or her own flag is 100% up to the writer. Period.” That’s because I believe that no writer should fear writing, that art should offend otherwise it’s not art, etc.
Should that position clear me of any criticism? No. The reactions shouldn’t be censored either, so saying criticism censors the writer in turn becomes the writer censoring the critic. That’s as paradoxical a position as you can be in, so what I should be against is censorship itself. What I wouldn’t be against is having a sensitivity reader be a part of the process of producing a book as long as any changes were my choice.
Francine Prose wrote in an article for the New York Review: “Literature will survive online social media bullying just as it has survived book burning and state censorship. One of the ugliest aspects of bullying is the way the aggressor finds easy targets and avoids the bigger, tougher challenges. But these attacks—and capitulations—may make it harder for us to champion the importance of the imagination at a time when we so urgently need to imagine a way to solve the larger crises that face us.”
I mostly agree, but I don’t think these issues should be dismissed as bullying. Stereotypes (even in genre fiction) are known to be harmful, and they should be discussed by openly creating and critiquing art.
I applaud your balanced perspective, James. I think it is possible to learn, to become more aware, yet stick to your guns too.
The answer to my own title question, for me, is that in the writing the characters are mine (as much as I can possess a spirit). It’s when the story reaches the public, that it becomes fuzzier. We can only hope we do them justice, which ultimately is the age-old challenge of crafting believable characters.
It’s not only okay, in my view, but even important for authors to be able to speak on any topic and from any point of view in fiction. It’s up to publishers to choose what they want to stand behind, and it’s up to the conversation of reviewers and readers to debate accurate portrayals and to relate current cultural perspectives or concepts of universal experiences or truths to the particular work. To censor a voice before it speaks to the world is dangerous and, in my opinion, wrong.
How can we teach compassion to the next generation if we don’t discuss examples of empathy and disrespect or even cruelty? A child learns to be good to others from watching and making mistakes as well as by being praised or seeing rewards for kind behavior. I believe we all need to continue to weigh various views and fictional actions to continue to keep and gain compassion throughout our lives.
This is fiction. It is not claiming to be the story of a real person that’s then misrepresented. A voice of fiction is free. Free to inspire or challenge or rile up the reader and to cause us all to think, feel, talk and learn.
“How can we teach compassion to the next generation if we don’t discuss examples of empathy and disrespect or even cruelty? A child learns to be good to others from watching and making mistakes as well as by being praised or seeing rewards for kind behavior. I believe we all need to continue to weigh various views and fictional actions to continue to keep and gain compassion throughout our lives.”
Hear, Hear! I fully agree.
John, your post was both enlightening and frightening. I write fantasy and my world is full diverse humans and non-humans. I write about many of the conditions that people suffer on at day to day basis including racism, sexism, and homophobia. I am currently writing a romance between two men. I hesitated before writing it, simply because, as a cis gender White woman, that is not my experience. However, the story wanted to be told, so I did some research and asked people for input to see if it felt authentic to them as homosexual men. In my other life, I am a trauma therapist and I am presented with the results of all the “isms” that people suffer from in our society. Most of it is not my lived experience, but I have gained a tremendous amount of insight from the people who share their stories with me and allow me to walk with them on their journey. If I can somehow impart some of their wisdom to others through my writing, I can only hope it touches someone and opens their eyes to something they may not have considered before.
Sounds to me like you are growing in your writing, so keep pushing those boundaries. You clearly have the right awareness of potential pitfalls, and are taking the steps you can to avoid them. What more can any of us do?
Using fear and intimidation to prevent other people from doing something that is legal and does not violate anyone else’s human rights is wrong. It’s that simple.
The only acceptable form of censorship a book is refusing to read it.
What other people read is their business.
I agree. Although it has to be tough for an author, experienced or nascent, to face a wave of criticism, whether or not the criticism is fair.
In the instances noted in this post, disturbing as they may be, ultimately early readers – who had been provided advance copies – were simply expressing their opinions. I don’t know that any individual involved felt they would prevent a book from publication, and arguably they didn’t. In both cases, the author pulled the plug on publication. Their publishers clearly had the right to do so as well, even if they didn’t exercise the option in these particular instances.
The “stay in your lane” idea is quickly reduced to an absurdity: Men should not write women characters, nor women write male characters. That, anyway, is the reductive razor used by (largely white, male) authors bewildered by what seems to them an irrational, raging sensitivity.
On the other hand, who can dispute that marginalized authors are due their time, topics and voices? Why should I—a straight, white, privileged male—write about the Holocaust, slavery in the American South, or coming out? Really, for me to tackle such subjects is equally absurd. Anyway, #itsabouttime, isn’t it?
So, which is truer: the PC police have run amok *or* white male authors need to sit down, shut up and listen now? Ask me, neither proposition is entirely true. It’s ridiculous to say that imagination should stay in a box. It’s equally ridiculous to say that we on our privileged perches bear no responsibility and owe nothing.
At my agency, we have put a focus on new voices. (I hate the terms “minority”, “marginalized” and “diverse”.) We represent loud and proud LBGTQ, Afro-centric, Asian, no-idea-who-cares-just-weird storytellers. It’s time. It’s refreshing. It’s great stories!
Which is not to say that there is not also a place for literature in the English tradition, the Great (white) American Novel, suburban angst, vanilla romance, or any other familiar fiction. Personally, I like it best when it is discomforting rather than comforting, but anything that takes us out of our own heads and into the hearts of others is good.
If the sensitivity mindset seems extreme, we should remember that there is rage for a reason. On the other hand, it’s well to appreciate the literature that got us here, the authors who wrote/write it, and an industry that does not judge but is doing its best to include all strong stories. Sensitivity in one direction, in another direction respect for all storytellers.
If a few recent instances feel crazy, well okay. It’s where we are, in a corrective phase. Long term, I have faith in storytelling and that stories that are strong and true–whatever their subjects and whoever their authors—will endure.
Thank you, Donald. I was kind of hoping to get your perspective on this topic.
What struck me about the particular instances noted in my post was that one author was a gay, black man while the other was a Chinese immigrant (who as noted in one reference I saw would never have been able to publish her novel there). Those aspects and the fact that both were debut novelists felt particularly harsh.
As mentioned in an earlier response, I did purposely set two extremes, trusting that our own writing community would fill the gaps with nuances on what is admittedly a thorny topic. To that end, I’m grateful that the many perspectives have done just that.
I’m reassured by that, and agree wholeheartedly that compelling stories of strong, realistic characters are ultimately what move literature – and society – forward.
Echoing John’s thanks for your weighing in, Donald. And the “privileged perch” (great term!) is indeed a precarious one, and one that I have an ever-increasing awareness of – as I should.
It’s interesting to me to see how quickly these tides can shift, and to contemplate their potential effect on the business of selling books. For example, do you think “The Help” would be harder to pitch to editors now than it was a decade ago? I’m inclined to think so, but I’d love your perspective.
Keith, The Help is a novel about the hypocrisy and thinly veiled racism of Southern white women, written by a Southern white woman. The protagonist is a young white woman. I suspect it would not be turned away today, even though we may find it’s moral ground easy to tread and wish somewhat for other authentic voices to chime in.
In 1997 Arthur Golden’s novel Memoirs of a Geisha came out – and I don’t remember any complaints. Rob Marshall directed the movie which made 163 million box office. So, it was totally OK for a Jewish male to write as a Japanese woman.
Everyone is (should be) free to write, and everyone is free not to read it!
Without addressing the thorny issue of “writing the other,” I will point out that we live at time when we as writers have incredible access to a universe of different voices to inform our own. Read the works (including essays and criticisms) of writers like Roxane Gay, Alexander Chee, and Sherman Alexie. It won’t make you an expert, of course, but the insights are eye-opening, sobering — and kind of scary.
Yes, we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that, despite growing pains, this is an exciting era of publishing and literature. Storytelling is thriving in a number of formats, offering more options that ever to experience lives outside our own.
That is a gift.
What an interesting discussion. Thank you for bringing it up. It’s an area I struggle with too. Last week, I saw an advance screening of the movie “The Best of Enemies” starring Taraji P. Henson and Sam Rockwell. The story is about a real black activist and a KKK member – who fought over school integration in NC. (Including archival footage of the real people.)
In the Q & A after the movie, Taraji said there’d been a storm on twitter, started by people who hadn’t even seen the movie, slamming her for portraying Ann Atwater, a remarkable unsung hero, because the story was also about someone in the Klan. According to Taraji, twitter was brutal toward her for doing the movie. I don’t remember her exact words, but it was along the lines that there will always be haters, so you have to ignore them.
I hope the twitter mentality doesn’t scare off too many important stories from writers who just don’t want to take the shade.
Great article and discussion. Thank you so much, John, for the balance, wisdom and sensitivity in the way you presented it. First off I believe that the marketplace and only that should be the final arbiter of fictional work. Let’s not have to relearn the dark void of censorship
That said, I’m responsible for my own work and I’m sitting right in the middle of this swamp with a novel that involves a badly traumatized white visitor to Hawaii who finds his personal healing and his own healing gift through Hawaiian healing.
As a white resident of Hawaii, I realize that my efforts put me in a vulnerable position, but my intention is to make known the most positive qualities of past and current Hawaiian culture along with some of the challenges, like drugs and homelessness. I’m deeply aware and sensitive to the pain that the people here have endured and my effort is to be an agent of bonding rather than yet another splinter in the finger of the islands. Your article and some of the responses have made me dig deeper into my writing and to double down on my clarity of purpose. As we say in these part, Mahalo nui loa (thank you very much.)