The depressing truth is, all characters we write are filtered through ourselves. I’m not writing a character based on my high school English teacher, I’m writing a character based on MY interpretation of that English teacher.
It can feel fake.
This gets worse the less you have in common with the person you’re writing.
Should I even be doing this?
Is it cultural appropriation?
Shouldn’t I let minority writers tell these stories?
Can I do this RIGHT?
But, if I don’t explicitly put minorities into my stories, readers (even non-white readers) will assume whiteness as a default.
And… that’s not what my reality looks like.
Just for this blog post, today I made a note of the race of each person I interacted with throughout my normal workday today. This is the chart on the left. On the right is what my story of my workday would look like if I didn’t mention anyone’s race.
Big difference.
I live in a diverse town, work in a diverse workplace, and have a diverse range of friends. This is my reality. Not what’s on the right. That’s a world I don’t live in.
Imagining the future as LESS diverse? That’s just creepy. I mean… there’d have to be pogroms and genocide and miscegenation laws. No. I might be willing to imagine a post-apocolyptic future, but I don’t want to imagine THAT.
So… there’s really no choice. If I want to write honestly, truthfully, and present the world as I know it, I have to write people who are from different races than me.
- I have to respect the characters and make them as well rounded as possible.
- I have to be aware of stereotypes to avoid
- I have to introduce race without awkward descriptions (like lots of metaphors for ‘brown’)
- Mostly, I ask if this character were to read the story, would they feel they were portrayed fairly?
So, yeah. This is a struggle for me. Lately, though, when I see the hate being poured on people of color by disgruntled hack SF writers and faceless hordes emboldened by comment threads, I feel like it’s my duty to woman up and keep struggling with it.
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