It’s not unusual to come across the kind of discussion I found on Absolute Write the other day, in which well-meaning writers try to hash out a safe path through the minefield of racial identities. If you’re a white writer, is the “racial default” in character descriptions necessarily white? How do you describe characters who are outside that racial default setting without being racist? Can you write outside your racial default without being racist? Can you write outside your racial default and still be authentic? What happens when you step outside the lines that are supposed to define your racial identity?
I’ll admit, it was very late in the game of writing my most recent project that I even contemplated this question. Maybe I’m a little dense, but it really didn’t occur to me to ask: can a white girl write convincingly in the voice of a black man? The overriding feeling I had and the one I still have above all others is that the narrator, Axyl, is an Okie like me. He was born and grew up not thirty miles from where I grew up. He was raised by the same kind of working class family I was raised by. He has the same cadence to his speech and the same uncertainty about how far he’s willing to embrace his redneck upbringing.
I don’t pretend that I have a clue what it’s like to be a black man in redneck America, but I have lived as an outsider in a community that should have embraced me, if inclusion were only a matter of race. I was kicked out of Sunday school and harassed for being an atheist. Everyone in town knew about my father’s criminal habits and his lengthy stints in prison, and people talked about it, not always behind my back.
Years later, living in rural Japan, I had a taste of what it’s like to be on the receiving end of racial bias. Dozens of times people got up and moved, when I sat next to them on the bus or train. I learned to cut my own hair, because I couldn’t find a single barber or hairstylist who was willing to cut gaijin hair. There were restaurants in my town where I couldn’t be served and stores where the shopkeepers put up the closed sign if they saw me coming.
These feelings are in my narrator’s experience. After all, isn’t that the job of a writer: to borrow from our own experiences to inhabit the lives of people who don’t exist? It’s an odd task and one that can’t require the exactness of journalism. Approximation is all anyone can provide.
The strangest part in all of this is that after a dozen or more people had read the manuscript and offered critiques, the question of my race vs. my narrator’s race came up many times. The question of my gender vs. my narrator’s gender came up a few times, but oddly enough no one asked me whether I felt comfortable writing as a multiple murderer. I’ve never killed anyone, but apparently that discrepancy between my life experience and my narrator’s life experience seemed unimportant next to the question of skin color.
I wonder, too, exactly how long the lines between races will stay sharp. They’re blurring already, and writers and readers are both trying to figure out how that affects their perceptions of characters. For an interesting observation on the failure of race to color inside the lines, see sci fi writer Tobias Bucknell’s great post on his experience as a “Caribbean writer.”
I think about this today, because of all the hubbub in the news about our new president. Many commentators have remarked that “a black family in the White House changes everything.” On certain levels, I have no doubt that they’re right. The Obamas represent a sea change for racial minorities in America. Barack Obama even gets mentioned in my book, as some successful counterpart to my narrator. The son of a white woman and a black (and largely absent) father, my narrator is in the same awkward gap Obama has described being in: too black to fit in with white people or too white to fit in with black people. Neither one nor the other. Neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm?
As I contemplate the process of querying this book, I am in uncertain waters. The book, though it has elements of the fantastical in it, doesn’t truly fit with the “urban fantasy” genre. I have called it “literary fiction with magical realism,” but perhaps it has too much action to suit literary tastes. It’s perhaps too raw and ugly to consider itself “commercial fiction with magical realism.” I find myself looking at agents who represent “multi-cultural” novels, but I always end up with the same question: Am I out of the running for multi-culti because I am so pasty white? Will my skin color become an issue more than the contents of the book?
Well, I haven’t finished the entire draft yet, but I have no trouble believing your narrator Axyl. I know I’ve said this before, but you are such an amazing writer and part of that is your ability to slip into the skin of your characters and create real, believable people regardless of their race/gender/world.
I’m sure no one’s questioned your ability to get into the head of a multiple murderer after reading your other blog. 🙂
Anyway, excellent and thoughtful post!
“can a white girl write convincingly in the voice of a black man?”
In my opinion, yes. Should you even worry about it? No. You’re a writer. And like all writers of any back ground, religion, etc, you have an obligation to express the realities of everyday human existence…which can be a plethora of things. Like you said – it’s your job. And I think that this is almost strictly an American conundrum because we tend to be riddled with white guilt, though I know you and I don’t think that you are, and the PC police hover about. This isn’t necessarily the case everywhere else in the world, imo. This is why I’m not surprised that the other experiences of your characters (i.e. being a murderer) are not questioned. And just based on your experiences in Japan I would say you absolutely can imagine what it’s like to be a black man in redneck America. But honestly, I think all good writers can…because that’s what makes them good writers – they imagine. Tony Morrison probably did not have to ask herself these questions when she wrote “The Bluest Eye” and neither should you. Lord knows few of those white characters are sympathetic but they are written honestly and that’s whats important.
Thanks, Dana. Wait, are you telling me my blogging alter-ego seems capable of murder? And here I thought I was doing so well… ;o)
I’m sorry but society acts like positive African American families do not exist. It makes me wonder where are you getting your evidence of how African American families act. Are you watching cops all the time, or maybe the Flavor of Love tipped you off of this is how African American people act. Reading the article on CNN about the Obamas just made me angry it made me realize how ignorant society can be. If McCain would have won would people say “Oh my gosh a positive Caucasian family in the White House”. Finally a husband who isn’t cheating on his wife and a son who doesn’t have a drug problem. Followed by a wife who has never been married three or more times and a daughter who was never pregnant but we all know that a good ole abortion could take care of that situation. But they are conservative people and so these situations would never come about in a Caucasian family (yeah sure). I understand where the article is coming from but at the same time there is no need to exaggerate the likelihood of there actually being a positive African American family. I live in the suburbs and guess what if you want to see a positive African American family go to the suburbs it is like looking at a Caucasian family except guess what they’re African American. As far as television goes what family show isn’t a sitcom? Yeah sure the Cosby’s were great but guess what so was the Fresh Prince of Bellaire and Family Matters and guess what they both produced positive aspects. Yeah I’ll agree some African Americans aren’t perfect but the same goes for Caucasians as well. It’s just funny to me how society will exaggerate the negative aspects of a minority group and ignore the majority group. Oh and by the way I would appreciate if I was addressed by my race not my color so the title “Black first family ‘changes everything” was simply not doing it for me. Because clearly when I apply for something on an application it says African American not black. When will these simple sayings ever get old? One thing for sure nothing has changed in the new year of 2009 except for the first African American president.
Ebony: I think that’s the unfortunate reality of perceived notions about “normal African-American families.” People who live in largely white enclaves (like most of the midwest ;o) are living in ignorance. They may be the people for whom the most changes now that Obama’s president. Out where I’m from, plenty of people only see African-Americans on TV–and often take what they see as fact. That’s the real element that’s changed. All the rednecks in Oklahoma are going to be faced with new ideas about the world.
Also, I was going to mention that when I applied for my job with the university, these were my choices: White, Black, Latino, Asian, American Indian, Other. Soooo…I guess that’s Kansas for you.
This came up in a workshop I was in awhile back, when one of the women (who is white) was writing about an African American woman. The question came up about whether or not it is believable and there was dissent within the group, but the instructor felt that it didn’t matter so much as long as it sounded authentic (she cited instances where her students had asked people of race to read for accuracy w/language, slang, etc.) and as long as the book wasn’t supposed to be passed off as some sort of memoir. To your point, the same woman had another character who was a crack addict and no one questioned the believability as she wasn’t one herself.
The bottom line is that its really about having a good book and secondly, an agent who believes in the power of the writing and can use that power to persuade an editor that the world will love the book too.
What do we all know about race?. We know nothing. Here in America when we refer to someone as an African-American we directly take it for granted that he or she are black. Is Obama black?. Not in my book. Is he African-American?. Yes if he wants to call it that. His father is black, his mother is white. He was born in Hawaii, some say in Kenya. It would have been better off if he was born in Kenya, then he would have been a real African-American. He is not black, unless he wants to be black. My problem I can’t pass for black. He could. I bet Martin Luther King is rolling in his grave right now, saying who is that man that is passing for black to make a name for himself in history.
Uhm… where’s *my* advance copy? 😦
I never know what’s convincing. What sound authentic to one makes someone else’s skin crawl. You do a little research, apply a little empathy. Wing it.
I’ve been black all my life and have had both black and white people tell me, in effect, that I’m not the right kind of black. Sometimes they’re pleasantly surprised, sometimes they’re amused and even horrified.
Idioms change even within racial/ethnic groups. I’m sure you got close enough.
*parks in inbox… waiting*
Barry, ask and you shall receive, because you gave lots of great feedback on that other effed up book of mine. You’re definitely my kind of weird. ;o)
“To your point, the same woman had another character who was a crack addict and no one questioned the believability as she wasn’t one herself.”
The weird things is that I recently was involved in a conversation in which one person tried to tell another that the only authentic way to write about drug use was to try it. As someone who’s tried more than her fair share, I had to step in and say, “No.” I think people get hung up on what they think makes them an “expert” and they don’t want other folks to horn in on their territory without living the very same experiences.
“I think people get hung up on what they think makes them an “expert” and they don’t want other folks to horn in on their territory without living the very same experiences.”
EXACTLY. “It’s A Black Thing” was a nice in-joke in the mid 80’s that grew into an excuse to be rude. A way to avoid any kind of meaningful exchange. As if black Americans have any kind of monopoly on misery and struggle… or for that matter, cool.
“You’re definitely my kind of weird.”
If you only knew….
And thanks for sharing. I’ll load it onto my Treo [shut up!] this weekend and get to reading.
Hahaha! Your Treo. *cough* Cool. I look forward to your thoughts on the story. You know, I cited you as an example of people being able to write outside their personal experiences, because so much of your Nat Turner book is written through a female lens. And convincingly so. I never thought to myself, “Oh, it’s just Barry in a wig.”
“Barry in a wig”… Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha… *tries to recall if he deleted all those photos from flickr*