Discussing Identity in the Time of #BlackLivesMatter and #OwnVoices

More than ever, there's been a call and a push for #OwnVoices in publishing. Though, what does it mean if you feel, as a person of color, that your writing doesn't belong to that hashtag?

Tweeter: amandajoywrites

Growing up, I went to school in the suburbs, surrounded by white kids, white teachers, and white parents. However, my mom is African-American and my dad is Japanese-American, and I lived in the city. My friendships at home were diverse, while my friendships at school were mostly white. The books I read at school featured mostly white characters. The shows I watched on television were mostly white actors and actresses, save for One on One, Moesha, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, That's So Raven, etc.

One distinct memory I have as a kid is when my parents told me one night that I was unique. I forget the context of the conversation now, but I remember plain as day, telling my wonderful first-grade teacher what they had told me. And hating what she did next.

She asked me if it was okay if she shared that word with the rest of our class. I remember standing there, feeling awkward and embarrassed, but I said yes, because I didn't know what else to say. To this day, I remain non-confrontational and rarely able to say no to people. I remember everyone in the class staring at me as she explained to them what it meant to be unique, and why I was unique. The only student in a class full of white kids that was mixed-race, both African-American and Japanese-American.

Tweeter: jules_writes

My parents tried their best to find books that featured kids like me. I remember when they bought Half and Half for me, a kid's book about a young girl who was both Scottish and Chinese-American. Her name was Fiona Cheng, and no one ever believed she was part Scottish because she looked more like her Asian-American parent. Her struggle in the book was one I knew (know) all too well: never quite feeling she belonged, or that whatever she did, she would end up alienating one side of her family.

At the time, I wasn't very interested in a story that hit too close to home. I wanted to read more fantasy books, and fell in love with the world of Percy Jackson. But now, as I begin writing my own stories, and being more aware of the authors I read and the stories they tell, I wonder if I have my own place in #OwnVoices.

I never learned Japanese growing up. We rarely went to Obon festivals when I was a child, and I didn't have a kimono until I was well-into elementary school. I remember once crying over the one my dad bought me, though I can't remember exactly why I cried. It might have been because it was ugly, or because it looked cheap. Around my Black family members, I apparently acted too white as a kid or spoke too much like a white girl. I was always reminded that I wasn't really Black, I was half-Asian too. All the Black TV shows and movies I should have watched as a kid, I didn't, so I was Other.

Just as I had to check "Other" on the forms that asked for your race/ethnic identity. I didn't grow up feeling like I belonged to either race, and therefore sought not to think about race.

When then brings me to the question, is it authentic for me to write stories about race? When I'm writing Black or Asian characters in fantasy, and I don't delve into racial tensions, is that ignoring or erasing their identity? How do you describe an Asian character in high fantasy literature, when the continent of Asia doesn't exist and you're tired of "almond eyes" supposedly being indicative of Asian heritage?

I recognize the privilege I enjoyed as a child in many ways, and I do not wish to imply that I take it for granted. For many children, it's not possible to not think about race, even if they don't want to. Many children grow up not seeing themselves represented positively in literature or in the media, which isn't fair. Which is why we push for #OwnVoices, so that authors of color can tell their stories and have the same opportunities that white authors do.

Begging another question – can white authors talk about race? If I, myself a person of color, don't feel comfortable writing about race, what's to say a white author can or should? Damned if they do, damned if they don't then because controversy arises if they only write about white characters.

Tweeter: SaraFarizan

Yes, there are sensitivity readers but sensitivity readers only cover half the problem. Sensitivity readers also don't speak for the entire community, and ultimately when a book gets to publication, there will still end up being backlash. Take Rick Riordan, author of the Percy Jackson series, for example.

Rick is a straight, cis, white man who knows his audience is full of diverse kids. After the Percy Jackson series, he wrote Heroes of Olympus and Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard. I bring these up specifically, since there is the most controversy when it comes to representation in these series. Heroes of Olympus features a cast of seven (nine, in the final book) characters, most of whom are diverse – Piper McLean, a Cherokee-American daughter of Aphrodite; Frank Zhang, a Chinese-American son of Mercury; Hazel Levesque, an African-American daughter of Pluto; Leo Valdez, a Hispanic-American son of Hephaestus; and Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, a Puerto-Rican daughter of Bellona. In Magnus Chase, while the main character is a white boy, there's a Muslim character and a genderfluid teenager.

Recently, Rick has come under fire on Twitter for the way some of these characters are depicted in the series. And while I can absolutely not speak for anyone who was offended – and do not wish to – I can say that I believe his intentions, and his apologies, are genuine. That he's just trying to write accessible stories for kids who don't often to see positive representations of themselves in literature or in the media. For those who would like more information, I've provided a link to his blog post where he responded to the controversy. (I haven't sought out permission to use people's tweets in this blog post, so I can only recommend searching "Rick Riordan" on twitter and perusing at your discretion).

For a while, this discourse made me sick to my stomach when I saw waves of hate roll in on Twitter. For years, Rick Riordan has championed #OwnVoices and Rick Riordan Presents, an imprint he created with Disney to publish middle-grade stories by authors of underrepresented cultures and backgrounds, to let them tell their own stories about their mythology and folklore of their heritage. The Percy Jackson series means so much to me, even as an adult, because it made me feel powerful and happy during a time where I felt so alone and sad.

But I've been working on myself over the past few months of quarantine. Instead of obsessively spiraling on social media, I've channeled this energy into my writing and keeping myself busy. Reading more, learning more, listening more. Not putting authors like Rick Riordan on pedestals to not mistakes, but being receptive to when they apologize and recognize their shortcomings.

Which brings me back to identity and #OwnVoices in the times of #BlackLivesMatter. As a woman of color, I want to write about characters who are brown, black, and beautiful. I don't want to write about racism because I don't feel I'm the right person to talk about it with. I don't feel like my experiences warrant me leading a discussion on racial tensions. I want to write about strong, complex, intelligent girls who come in all shapes and sizes and colors, but does that mean discussions of race need to be brought into the story?

Tweeter: nina_lacour

And if I, an African-American and Japanese-American woman, have only recently started feeling more secure in my skin – am I even the right person to write about it?

Long rant over. Hope you've read along and enjoyed so far :)

As I figure this out and where exactly I fit in #OwnVoices, please check out the following

resources for Black female writers:

1. If you like to write fantasy and identify as a black woman, or a non-binary author, please check out this instagram account, Black Girls With Magic & Books, or check out their website, http://blackgirlswithmagic.com.

2. Check out Black Girls Create on Instagram and on their website.

3. Meet Morgan Pitts, founder and creator of Black Girls Who Blog. Currently her Instagram account is private, but you can follow Black Girls Who Blog and Black Girls Who Write, an imprint.

4. Follow Sistah Girls Book Club on Instagram

5. Last but not least, follow Brown Girls Who Write on Instagram as well!