Since I’m coming back from a year of serious illness and starting
a new round of my longstanding series, Books of Interest by Writers of Color, I
thought I’d reprise the blog post that I used to begin this new round just
before I ended up in multiple surgeries and treatments. That post was never
really followed up on because of the surprise of cancer, so I’ll post it again
and list some of the authors I’ll be featuring in upcoming weeks.
In future weeks, I’ll be looking at the recent work of
Marjorie Agosín, Kim Shuck, Lorna Dee Cervantes, Linda Hogan, Frances
Washburn, Gerald Vizenor, Richard Vargas, Allison Hedge Coke, Juliana Aragon
Fatula, Erika Wurth, and many more fine writers. I hope you’ll come back to
read about the exciting work they are doing. I started this Books of Interest
by Writers of Color series as a resource for teachers and librarians who had
asked me for help as I made appearances around the country. And the blog post below
helps to explain why I think this is more important than ever.
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The other day I had a conversation with a very wealthy and
well-educated white man. This conversation still bothers me. Probably because
it’s a discussion whose main points I’ve had to deal with many times before
with other people. Note: this guy was not some ignorant, insensitive racist
spouting ethnic slurs.
Still, he didn’t understand what I was talking about because
ultimately he was not yet able to stand outside his privilege of white skin,
male gender, and inherited wealth. I say, “not yet,” because I refuse to give
up hope for him and others I’ve encountered like him, who have genuinely good
intentions but can’t get past the blinders of privilege. Earlier conversations
with such people have focused around the difficult lives of women living in
poverty, the automatic racism encountered over and over by people of color that
can leave them justifiably hypersensitive, and similar topics. This
conversation centered on books.
This person condemned a wide variety of fiction and poetry
by writers of color, in particular Latinas and Latinos, as “just political.”
Good writing, according to him, is not “political posturing.” I looked at the
list of books we were discussing, which ranged from Rudolfo Anaya and Manuel
Muñoz to Luis Alberto Urrea, Sherman Alexie, and Helena Maria Viramontes and
were among a group of books and authors branded as extreme political agitation
by a rightwing school board (which led to our discussion), and I realized from
things he said that he’d not read most of them himself and was just parroting
the judgments politicians had laid on them (probably without reading them, either).
I tried to explain that most of these writers weren’t trying to write political
novels or poetry as much as they were simply trying to be true to the lived
experience of their lives and the lives of their families and communities. He
didn’t buy it.
You see, in his experience, everyone is deferential and
respectful to him. He has no experience of being deliberately humiliated or
seeing his parents deliberately humiliated because of the color of their skin,
their accent, their Hispanic last names, and/or their poverty. He has no
experience of deliberate, offhanded cruelty directed at him or his family or
neighbors for no reason other than because the inflictor can get away with it.
He has no experience with living in grinding poverty, seeing his parents (and
possibly himself) forced into dangerous, unsafe, and unfair working conditions
for the tiniest possible wages.
In his world, such things are unreal. Therefore, they must
be made up or vastly exaggerated for political purposes. To him, therefore, any
writer who simply writes of her childhood misery working in the fields as a
migrant laborer as Helena Maria Viramontes does or of the poverty and casual,
racist cruelty encountered as the child of an immigrant as Luis J. Rodriguez or
the residual trauma of genocide and racism as Sherman Alexie does must be
dishonestly fabricating in order to inflame the reader’s emotions for political
purposes. Writers speak the truth about their lives and the lives of many in
their communities, and because the reality they describe is so unacceptable to
privileged white Americans, they are told they must be making it all up for
radical political purposes.
I know, unfortunately, that this is a common stance, even
among some well-meaning people. So perhaps it’s not surprising that the person
whose conversation with me began this post believes that poor people of color
writing about their lives and history must be inventing out of whole cloth for
inflammatory political purposes. I’m not angry with him. I’m sad for him—and
others like him. The only way to get past the blinders of privilege is to take
a journey way out of their comfort zones, to walk into the world of the
disenfranchised (of whom they are afraid). Or they could read the works of the
many gifted Latina/o writers, African American writers, Indigenous writers,
Asian American writers, and LGBTQ writers and discover the world these writers
and their people live in deep underneath that bright surface of the world of
American privilege.
#WeNeedDiverseBooks #diverselit
Linda, yes. I've never heard this explained better. I've read lots of books on the topic of disenfranchisement and discussed it through years of college and graduate school—from my own fear of applying to Los Angeles City College and attending the satellite community college located in tin shacks at the ass end of a high school campus, to a doctoral program at Harvard—this is the most coherent and clear explanation on the topic of exclusionary mindset against writers I've read. I use the word, writers and not authors, specifically because the severity of exclusion effectively declines admission to so many living "… underneath the bright surface of the world of American privilege. "
ReplyDelete[Respectfully I ask that you consider including writers with Disabilities to your list of disenfranchised.]
Reine, you are correct about writers with disabilities belonging on the list. Also, poor white people, immigrant writers from all kinds of countries, and others. I basically abbreviate it because, if I list everyone that should be included, people's eyes just glaze over. I prefer to use "people from marginalized communities," which includes everyone who needs to be included, but then I get complaints about academic jargon. So I need to find a better way to be inclusive without turning off readers who might learn from reading it.
ReplyDeleteFortunately, you had the drive and found whatever help you could along the way to make it from that tin shack school to Harvard. Wide availability of books by writers from marginalized communities could help make that possible for more students in that situation, as well as offer an alternative way of looking at American life to people born to varying levels of privilege.
Linda, yes—you are right, of course. I know it's an impossibility. I saw that you'd included LGBTQ writers and thought that was as much different from your foundational list as PWD. I don't feel left out. I could actually be included in two of the categories you listed. But as one of my professors once snapped at me, "What are you worried about? You look white!" You are absolutely correct that the list stop somewhere. xo
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda, for the work you do for the writing community. You are most appreciated.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Juliana!
ReplyDelete