On Writing Race

Posted on November 17, 2009 by Phoebe 1507 Commentshttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.phoebenorth.com%2F2009%2F11%2F17%2Fon-writing-race%2FOn+Writing+Race2009-11-17+02%3A28%3A00Phoebehttp%3A%2F%2Fphoebeeating.dreamhosters.com%2F%3Fp%3D150

A few weeks ago, my friend Michele had this to say about race in this blog post:

It sounds odd, but I always have a hard time constructing (and by constructing, I mean imagining or tentatively writing a bad first page of a pretend novel that I then abandon) a protagonist who is, like me, half white. The dilemma is that if I don’t mention race, the reader will automatically assume she or he is white by default (which is inherently problematic), and if I mention race, then the novel suddenly becomes a commentary on race or racial identity politics or transparently autobiographical/memoir-ish. It’s really frustrating. I’ve tried just mentioning it in passing, but it just doesn’t work. And then there is a larger question of ethics–should it be the responsibility of the minority author to deal with or at least acknowledge racial issues because that is the world or experience we (minorities) live in/with? I can see why Sci-Fi or fantasy genres might be more liberating in some respects, though I imagine the compulsion to read things allegorically is much too strong.

I never thought about the implications of writing race in fiction, honestly, until I got into an online argument about the new Star Trek movie just after its release. I was objecting to the pairing of Uhura and Spock on the grounds of the established canon (I always liked her chemistry with Scotty); several black female fans responded pretty (justifiably) passionately about how thrilled they were to see a black character paired with a primary (white) character in a functioning and happy relationship. I’d thought about the importance of Uhura in the lives of young black women before, mostly thanks to interviews with Whoopi Goldberg about her childhood reaction to the character. What I hadn’t realized, in my white, privileged state, was that the same need for fans of color to see diverse and realistic characters of color is still going, by and large, unfulfilled. Writers of color are doing what they can, but I think it’s important for writers of all races to be aware of constructions of race in their novels, particularly when writing for young and impressionable readers, many of whom haven’t had the privilege of libraries full of heroes who look just like them.

(And I’ll say that I feel pretty much the same way about character sexuality. Sorry, JK Rowling, but mentioning that Dumbledore is gay as if it’s an afterthought just isn’t enough. It’s not a reflection of the world that anybody I know lives in, and it’s not fair to your young readers, or your characters.)

The heroine in Encounter at Rhea’s Point, Dee, is half-black and half-Polish. Rhea’s Point is in first person; she describes herself freely, and, though the focus of the novel isn’t a particularly racial one, I think her identity is important to her and therefore, in some ways, to the narrative. She doesn’t “just happen” to be half-black and half-Polish; even growing up away from Earth, she is defined, in part, by the differences between her and her blond, white, blue-eyed, and thin mother. That’s not to say that it hasn’t been a challenge. I don’t want to pretend like I can speak for those who have gone through life, in our society, particularly, having had the experience of actually growing up of mixed ancestry; I realize that my experiences are very fundamentally different from that. But I do the best I can, with Dee and with all of my characters: I try to make them breathe, try to make them have genuine, non-stereotypical* experiences, try to make them people and not archetypes. I don’t do it because I think it’s noble. I do it because I think it’s correct, or rather, incorrect to do otherwise.

That’s not to say that I don’t understand Michele’s apprehension. Race is such a loaded thing, and, honestly, I can’t help but feeling a little self-conscious about talking about it, even now; will my attempts to discuss my motivations seem paternalistic or condescending? Can a white writer even approach a character like Dee fairly and respectfully? All I can say is, I sure hope so. I did my best with her.

And I continue to try to do my best. Convocation, my manuscript for NaNoWriMo features an interracial group of students. Though the narrator in this case is white and Jewish (and wealthy–that’s been a real stretch for me, as I grew up pretty poor), I’ve been mindful to populate her world with important people of varied races and sexualities. With every character of a race other than mine, I try hard to make sure their race is an important part of them, not a trifling matter, because it isn’t when it comes to real life, but I try to be sensitive enough not to make race the only part of the character. In all cases, and in all respects, I want my characters to be people, and not stereotypes.

*Speaking of stereotyped characters, I recently starting watching True Blood and at first I loved Tara; she seemed like a subversion of a stereotype of an angry black woman and seemed to have such potential for depth. The further I’ve gotten into the show, though, the less I’m sure. The black characters there are a flamboyant gay drug dealer, a perpetually angry woman unable to forge healthy romantic relationships, an alcoholic who thought she was inhabited by a demon, and a practitioner of voodoo. At the very least, the characters aren’t as nuanced or well realized as the other (white) characters, which is more than disappointing.