I didn’t watch the Super Bowl this year, but the vastly different takes on the quality of the halftime show by Kendrick Lamar made me start thinking about how race and various viewpoints on other topics influence how people consume and even understand creative works. Another big factor is exposure. Lots of people are not exposed to books and art by authors/artists of color or other diverse communities, sometimes by choice and sometimes not. This lack of exposure makes those works seem even more foreign, and it’s systemic and generational.
Thirty-six years have passed since I graduated from the only high school in a rural, farm-centric county in western Kentucky, but even so I’m fairly certain we didn’t read anything by a Black author, nothing by authors of any color other than white. We only had two Black students, brothers, in our entire school of between 450 and 500 students, and there were no other minorities. In fact, my U.S. history teacher had a Confederate flag on the back wall of our classroom. I can’t imagine what that classroom must have felt like to those brothers.
Likewise, we weren’t assigned to read any books by LGBTQ+ authors. This was the time of the AIDS epidemic when anyone who was anything other than straight kept it to themselves for their own safety.
And here’s the thing—my hometown (and thousands of towns like it across the country) hasn’t changed all that much in the intervening years. Despite having cell phones, internet access, and Netflix, some of the same insular patterns persist. Certainly, there are people in every community who have open minds and welcome learning new perspectives, but sadly they are often not the majority. The current divided opinions regarding diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and policies have made affecting changes in opinions even more difficult.
What does this have to do with NINC members and authors in general? Well, this is a clarion call to the white authors among us. We need to take every opportunity to chip away at the resistance to— or ignorance about—fiction by authors of color, LGBTQ+ authors, authors who are members of religious communities other than Christian, and other minority groups.
It’s not about you
This undertaking is not about those of us who are white. We do not center ourselves in these endeavors. Elevating minority authors and their work is not something we should undertake to feel good about ourselves or pat ourselves on the back. If an author from a minority group tells you that you’re shining the focus on yourself or coming across in a not-genuine way, that is the time to just listen. The same as we want readers to listen to what we have to say, we must be willing to listen as well.
All the time, not limited time
I’m writing this during Black History Month. I love reading all the posts about pieces of Black history and Black accomplishments that I haven’t encountered before. Yet it’s important to remember that shining a spotlight on works by minority authors shouldn’t be limited to Black History Month—or Arab American History Month, Pride Month, or any other special heritage months or days of visibility. Works by these authors deserve to find new readers every day of the year. After all, each new reader who decides to step outside of their normal reading patterns, perhaps even out of their comfort zone, is another opportunity to chip away at the racism, sexism, homophobia, and ignorance that is all too pervasive.
Why it needs to come from us
Like every other aspect of life, even though we as white authors may have had our struggles, it has likely been many times harder for minority authors. Even with the increase of publishers putting out Own Voices stories, there are more layers of resistance to having their stories read and appreciated by readers who are outside of their own community. They can promote their work all day, every day, and some readers will still not hear about them because they don’t follow them on social media. These books aren’t being recommended by bookstore personnel or book marketplace algorithms. Finally, readers outside those communities may believe the stories were written only for members of the authors’ specific groups.
Think about how you are more likely to give a book a try, even one that you might not normally have picked up, if you get an enthusiastic recommendation from a friend. If your own readers or followers on social media see you talking about how much you enjoyed reading Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao or The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna, they may be more likely to try it. Then they may fall in love with the author’s storytelling and seek out their other titles. They might even love the books so much that they, in turn, tell a friend they “have to read this book!” And yet another little piece of resistance is chipped away.
I’ve heard it said often that a lot of people have prejudices against trans people or those of Arab descent (or any minority group) because they don’t know anyone who belongs to those groups. This is why so many world views begin to change when students from rural communities go to college. They are exposed to a wider variety of people than those around whom they grew up. When you get to know a person as a person rather than a label, it can make a monumental difference.
This is why exposing people to diverse stories and author voices are also important.
A circuitous route
We all know that good stories come in various forms, novels being only one of them. Sometimes it is easier to introduce people to stories with people who don’t look like them through other, more easily consumed media, most often television or movies. For instance, I was happy to see so many people enjoying The Six Triple Eight, Reservation Dogs, the new version of Shōgun, and Squid Game. Many even willingly read subtitles for the last two. If they are willing to do that, a next logical step would be reading books about the same periods of history or themes. If they enjoyed The Six Triple Eight, suggest books such as Kaia Anderson’s Sisters in Arms. If they couldn’t stop talking about Squid Game, have them try the inspiration for many such stories, Battle Royale by Koushun Takami.
You can also include minority characters in your stories—not as token, stereotypical, or cardboard characters, but as fully formed characters who readers will love. This can be a bit of a gateway to reading about diverse characters by diverse authors. I have included such characters in my writing when it felt right to do so. A Shoshone female sheriff in small-town Wyoming might not be common in a Harlequin, but that character fit the story so well.
If you do this, however, be sure to do your research. If you are unsure of something, reach out to someone from the community you’re writing about but to which you do not belong. The last thing you want to do as a white author writing a minority character is to get something wrong or, worse, be inadvertently offensive.
What you can do now
It’s easy to get started on this voyage of positive change.
- Pick a few books by marginalized authors in genres you already enjoy and cozy up for a fun reading session.
- Examine your own biases (because we all have them) and deliberately read books you suspect will challenge those biases. It will help you understand that breaking free of what someone has always known, accepted, or been exposed to is difficult.
- Let these authors know you enjoyed their books. We all know how much it means to hear someone enjoyed our stories.
- Post about the stories you enjoyed on social media or in your newsletter.
- Include these books in your “What I’m Reading” lists in your newsletter, on social media, and on Goodreads.
- Do giveaways of books by diverse authors.
- Give books by minority authors as gifts to your book-loving friends and family.
- Donate books by Own Voices authors to your local library and/or place them in Little Free Libraries.
- Share social media posts by marginalized authors when they share good news or announcements about new releases.
- Invite authors you have enjoyed to join group promotions or anthologies.
- Brainstorm other ways you can be a force for good when it comes to marginalized authors and their wonderful stories.
There is a lot of negativity in the world. We, as storytellers, have the opportunity to combat that negativity in a variety of ways—and immerse ourselves in fantastic stories in the process.
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Trish Milburn’s DNA genealogy tests came back, unsurprisingly, with a whole lot of Britain and Ireland that could explain why she’s never met a potato she didn’t love and can’t eat spicy food. Luckily one’s reading isn’t dictated by one’s ancestry or gastrointestinal system.