Honestly, it’s very frustrating that Iowa, my home state, has made national news for passing a law that seems to “level up” efforts to suppress speech by adding governmental oversight for book banning. This bill essentially requires Iowa school libraries and school staff to remove/ban books that are (ambiguously) deemed inappropriate for children, or risk facing punitive repercussions. There are multiple threads to pull when examining the general nature of book bans. In this post, we will attempt to connect the obvious (to some) political motivations of book bans to what I consider to be the core of the issue, society’s fear of change and loss of power.

We will use the proposed book ban within a community in Spencer, Iowa as a case study. Spencer, Iowa has an approximate population of 11,000 people and is in the northwest corner of the state, bordering Minnesota and Nebraska. Out of the five schools, the district has one middle school and one high school. Within the district, 10% of the students identify as nonwhite and 28% have families with low income. The list below contains the specific books that may be banned to comply with the new “Parental Rights” Iowa law that was passed in May and enacted two months later on July 1 of this year.

_{*I have ordered the books by the year they were published.
*There are varying forms of this list circulating in the community.}

Misdirection

The books proposed were published between 1932 and 2021. Nearly 75% of the authors on this list are White women and more than half of the novels are from the young adult (YA) genre. A quick internet search reveals that all the titles listed have been individually banned by other states or have appeared on book ban lists. On the surface, this seems to be due to the depictions of sexuality, coarse language, substance use or abuse, or violence. However, after drilling down a little deeper, it became more apparent in most cases that these novels were banned because they made some parents, conservative politicians, and religious groups feel uncomfortable about the marginalized communities and experiences on which they were centered. Some of the common themes were related to:

• Substance use and abuse
• Depression and anxiety
• LGBTQIA+
• Race and ethnicity
• Violence 
• Illness
• Homophobia
• Sexism 
• Racism
• Stereotypes
• Grief and loss
• Economic inequality
• Emotional, sexual, and physical abuse
• Gender

While book bans have been packaged as an effort to “protect children” from inappropriate “descriptions or visual depictions of sex acts,” I find it ironic that they are not protected from being forced to give birth, depending on the state and instead are being “protected” from reading about things that lead to pregnancy. The true goal of this ban is to block content that centers on LGBTQIA+ and marginalized experiences.

As we continue to have meaningless online reaction wars about the perceived loss of rights, insignificant occurrences of “cancel culture,” “wokeness,” and the “PC police,” a record level of legislation continues to be pushed through to strip marginalized communities of their actual rights. Book bans not only illustrate what systematic discrimination and political power can look like, but they also provide us with tangible evidence of our growing fear of and reluctance to accept inevitable change and difference in our nation.

We Can Do Hard Things

In her 2020 best-selling memoir, Untamed, author Glennon Doyle recalls how seeing the mantra “we can do hard things” written on a classroom banner became the perfect reminder to summon her courage to overcome addictions. In Untamed, she reminds us of this mantra as she reflects on the urgency and importance of having discussions with our children about sexuality and pornography. 

In the chapter titled “Woods,” Doyle reflects on a chat with a close friend and her friend’s reluctance to talk with her son about his frequent pornography consumption. Glennon reminded her friend that it’s normal to feel discomfort and hesitancy when navigating conversations about sexuality and other uncomfortable realities with our children, but that she cannot leave her son “alone in the woods” to figure it all out. Doyle tells her friend:

“We don’t have to have answers for our children; we just have to be brave enough to trek into the woods and ask tough questions with them.”

As a parent, I want to acknowledge the lack of control most of us feel while raising children in an internet and smartphone-filled world. It can be tempting to try to avoid the amount of toxicity and danger that exists in the world by blocking everything, but we do a great disservice to children by sending them into the world without the knowledge, skills, and tools to survive.

Answering The Call

If you believe that book bans are wrong, I am challenging you as a writer to speak up and get involved (beyond a social media post), in your community, state, or at a national level. Many local and school librarians are in desperate need of support with this issue. I have cited a few sources at the end of this post that can provide more context about book bans.

Lastly, we will end by reconnecting with the first post, It’s Messy in the Middle: Answering the Call for Diversity, where this column began two years ago. Looking back, we consider if and how we can answer the call for diversity in our writing, which is still an urgent and pressing issue for the publishing world. I still believe that as writers, we must answer the call for diversity in our writing by illustrating the intricate humanity of underrepresented and marginalized identities in our stories.

Works Cited

Exman, B. (2023) This summer, I became the book-banning monster of Iowa, The New York Times. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/01/opinion/book-ban-schools-iowa.html (Accessed: 18 September 2023).

Harris, E.A. and Alter, A. (2023) Book bans are rising sharply in public libraries, The New York Times. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/21/books/book-ban-rise-libraries.html?campaign_id=9&emc=edit_nn_20230922&instance_id=103378&nl=the-morning&regi_id=114195098&segment_id=145410&te=1&user_id=2f6e6326bf23cd7ccab653496bf26e6b (Accessed: 22 September 2023).

Melton, G.D. (2020) ‘Woods’, in Untamed. New York: The Dial Press, pp. 175–177.

Schmidt, A. (2023) ‘19 books pulled from Mason City school libraries’, The Gazette [Preprint]. Available at:
https://www.thegazette.com/k/19-books-pulled-from-mason-city-school-libraries/ (Accessed: 18 September 2023).

Colice Sanders is a blogger and diversity, equity, and inclusion facilitator. Colice writes nonfiction, poetry, and memoir. Her blog, A Reason to Rise, chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma.

You can also reach her on LinkedIn and Instagram.

The post The Messy Middle: Iowa Book Bans appeared first on DIY MFA.

In a previous post, The Messy Middle: Luna & The Rise of Trans Narratives, we examined the pitfalls of the young adult (YA) novel Luna, which provided a compelling “case study” for understanding the potential negative impact of misrepresenting trans communities in fiction. 

The Brown Sisters Trilogy

I’m super excited to offer an additional “case study” of inclusive writing from The Brown Sisters trilogy, written by best-selling self-published author Talia Hilbert. This romance series offers an excellent example of what readers can gain from holistic writing that holds space for inclusion and representation, without sacrificing the complexities of the heart, humor, and humanity that are the foundation of the romance genre.

The Brown Sisters trilogy adheres to the common principles of the genre by chronicling the optimistic and aspirational enemies to lovers journey of clever and stubborn female protagonists. What makes it stand out are the steamy sex scenes, witty and humorous dialogue, and clever meta-commentary on the romance genre. Hilbert’s contemporary take on romance, sexuality, and interracial dating feels like a breath of fresh air.

The books in the series include Get A Life, Chole Brown (2019), Take A Hint, Dani Brown (2020), and Act Your Age, Eve Brown (2021). Each novel has received positive reviews and enjoyed great commercial success, which is even more impressive when considering the ways that the publishing industry has excluded authors of color from the genre.

A “Whites Only” Genre?

Full disclosure, before reading this series, I would not have identified as a romance genre reader.  It wasn’t until I began doing research for this post that I realized that this was less about my actual preference and more about the effectiveness of the systematic racism constructed to exclude authors and readers of color from the romance genre.

In the mind-blowing article, “Fifty Shades of White: The Long Fight Against Racism in Romance Novels,” author Lois Beckett details how Harlequin and other publishing entities, have historically chosen to exclusively publish, promote, and award white romance authors, effectively limiting the genre to the experiences of able-bodied, white, Christian, middle class, and heterosexual women. 

Apparently, I had subconsciously been influenced by this message because it wasn’t until I happened upon the first novel, Get A Life Chole Brown, one day in a Barnes & Noble, that I started to consider the genre.

#Representation Matters

The cover of the book featured a curvy black woman, which got my attention immediately. 

What really convinced me to buy the book was the summary of the novel, which mentioned that the character had fibromyalgia. I was at the beginning of my Fibro diagnosis, and it felt like the universe had gifted me the opportunity to escape into another world where a curvy black woman with fibromyalgia finds her purpose.

Representation got me through the door with the first book. However, what led me to become a faithful reader and fan of Hilbert was her ability to effectively illustrate intersectionality. She expertly connects her inciting incidents to universal truths and enters through the side of marginalized identities of which she does not have direct experiences.

Show Us the Complexity of Humanity with Intersectionality

According to her website, taliahilbert.com, Hilbert writes “spicy diverse British romance because she believes that people of marginalized identities need honest and positive representation.” Hilbert provides that representation by masterfully illustrating the intricate humanity of intersecting and marginalized identities within the series. 

The trilogy provides a breadth of perspectives that are often underrepresented in mainstream romance, such as neurodivergence (ADHD and autism), body image, sexuality, immigrant experiences, interracial relationships, trauma, racism, sexism, chronic illness, religious intolerance, and mental health (anxiety, depression, and PTSD) just to name a few. These portrayals are masterfully woven into the plotline in a way that highlights the challenges and resiliency of each identity.

Anchor Those Inciting Incidents to Universal Truths

An inciting incident is an important storytelling element utilized in all writing genres. Most stories are crafted to build up to a specific incident or its aftermath; the impact of that incident. It is very important that characters are developed beyond their marginalized identity and that their identity is not used as the inciting incident for the story. 

Hilbert is an expert at pairing the complexities of marginalized identity with universal themes of human experience. I would argue that the series is essentially about the ways we hide out from life until we are ready to heal from past pain because all of the characters in the series must work to address universal themes of grief, loss, hitting rock bottom, and finding one’s purpose. These universal themes not only make the characters feel real but also offer the reader a perspective for overcoming or addressing their own struggles, which is a rare occurrence within the genre.

You’ve Got This!!!

Hopefully, reflecting on the positive representation of marginalized identity within The Brown Sisters trilogy has affirmed that it is possible to provide equitable and nuanced portrayals of marginalized communities when we are intentional with character development, world building, and plot. The Brown Sister series is an excellent reference point for understanding how to craft stories that hold space for inclusion and representation, without sacrificing the complexities of the heart, humor, and humanity.

Colice Sanders is a blogger and diversity, equity, and inclusion facilitator. Colice writes nonfiction, poetry, and memoir. Her blog, A Reason to Rise, chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. 

You can also reach her on LinkedIn and Instagram.

The post The Messy Middle: The Brown Sisters Trilogy is #inclusivewritinggoals appeared first on DIY MFA.

Out of the numerous current events that have demanded our attention (and response) lately, I could not have predicted the surge of 490 proposals for anti-trans legislation that was introduced in 47 U.S. states this year. Instead of focusing on the numerous complex challenges that our country continues to face, our leaders have waged a one-sided war against trans people, in the name of “protecting” society from drag shows, among other fictional concerns.

Well, isn’t that just special?

The “discourse” in defense of these bills highlights how willfully ignorant society remains about transgender identity (people who do not identify with the gender they were assigned at birth) and the harmful impact of misrepresenting trans communities in the media. 

In a previous post, It’s Messy in the Middle: Rethinking Transgender Narratives, we reflected on the problematic publishing trend of cisgender (people who identify with the gender they were assigned at birth) authors profiting by writing transgender narratives. Thus, making trans characters so trendy that I wouldn’t be surprised if Marvel hasn’t already optioned a YA or fantasy series with a trans vampire witch zombie that joins the Avengers. I’m joking…I hope.

However, after news anchors started referring to a singular act of tragic gun violence committed by a trans person as “trans terrorism,” followed by the rising panic over a supposed “Trans Day of Vengeance,” I felt a responsibility to refocus on deconstructing trans stereotypes in fiction.

We will do this by examining the specific pitfalls of the young adult (YA) novel Luna. Luna offers an excellent “case study” for understanding the potential impact of misrepresentation of trans identity. To be clear, I do not intend this to be an attack on the author; I am, however, offering a critical reflection on the novel.

Luna was published in 2004 by cisgender author Julia Ann Peters and is considered one of the first YA novels to center on transgender identity. Luna was quickly championed as a groundbreaking insight into trans culture and was eventually nominated for over 15 literary awards and honors. It is still one of the most highly recommended novels for understanding transgender identity, which makes my eye twitch.

However, I would argue that Peters’s portrayals in Luna provide a classic example of misrepresenting trans culture because she ultimately relies on harmful stereotypes that reinforce transphobia and transmisogyny.

Snarky Summary (With Spoilers)

Luna tells the story of a 16-year-old cisgender girl named Regan and her struggle to accept her older trans sister Luna. Unlike Regan, Luna is super popular at school and inexplicably independently wealthy. Luna, who was assigned male at birth and named Liam, presents as Liam during the day to please her family and community. At night, Luna can be herself (hyper-feminine), by hoarding wigs, makeup, purses, nail polish, etc. All in an effort to perfect what can only be described as a 70’s flight attendant chic aesthetic (despite the story seeming to take place in the early aughts).

Yes, Luna checks all the boxes for contemporary standards of YA fiction. Luna is a coming-of-age story that features a teenage protagonist that experiences conflict and complex emotions in her journey of overcoming a crisis. 

Consequently, selecting Regan as the protagonist of the story and Luna as a plot device that Regan must overcome inherently sends the novel down the wrong path before it starts and continues with a collection of missteps made in developing the characters, plotline, and world building.

Entering through the Basement

A commonly recommended approach to inclusive writing and character development is to “enter through the side door” by adding supporting characters with marginalized identities. This can be a particularly useful way to represent marginalized identities, especially if the author does not have a direct experience with the identity that they are writing about. 

However, applying this framework to Luna created multiple problems for the novel. By centering on a cisgender main character in a story that seeks to guide and inform readers about trans identity, Luna felt like muddling through the basement of trans culture.

Following Regan as our only guide for understanding trans identity not only disconnects the readers from Luna but also Luna from her own story. The reader connects, sympathizes, and roots for Regan in a way that is not possible with Luna because Luna seems to be a background character. The story would have been more powerful if the reader was also guided by Luna’s direct experiences, feelings, and opinions. If the aim of the story is to explore trans identity, then the main characters should be trans.  

Additionally, placing Regan as the sole protagonist positioned her as the “expert” on trans culture, which was problematic because she held unchecked transphobic and transmisogynistic views. Regan is also a problematic expert because she is never challenged to explore her own cisgender identity, gender expression, or cis privilege. It ultimately led to the undesired effect of casting Luna as “abnormal” and Regan as “normal.” 

“Entering through the side door” can be an effective way to include marginalized or diverse character experiences when characters are given a voice to narrate their own experiences and  characters with majority identities are able to explore privilege and inequality. 

It is also important that marginalized characters are developed beyond their marginalized identity and that their identity is not used as the inciting incident for the story. 

An Unfortunate Inciting Incident

An inciting incident is an important storytelling element that is utilized in all writing genres. Most stories are crafted to build up to a specific incident or the aftermath and impact of that incident. 

In Luna, the novel is structured around the aftermath of the family suffering from an unknown incident and each chapter moves the reader closer to understanding the root of the family’s pain. This is presented through a series of flashbacks until the last third of the book when the reader is given the complete picture, in which Regan dramatically recovers a traumatic memory of Luna’s genital self-harm. Thus, Luna’s transness becomes the bomb that detonates and destroys Regan’s family. 

Again, a book that seeks to offer support to transgender youth and education to cisgender youth should not portray trans identity as an inciting incident that results in the breakdown of a family. This is especially true, considering the unnecessary and punishing ways that the family languishes in the aftermath of the incident.

After the incident, Regan’s mother physically and emotionally abandons the family, by escaping into her work and ignoring her husband’s hatred for Liam. Because the father was not around when the incident happened with little Liam, he decides that his child’s feminine gender expression must mean that Liam is gay. In response, he sets out to try and “fix it” through intimidation, emotional neglect, and abuse. 

Surprisingly, Regan is arguably the biggest victim of Luna’s transness and seems to suffer through life as a hostage of her sister’s secret trans identity. For example, Regan can’t sleep at night because Luna demands that she stay awake to judge her outfits. This causes Regan to be too tired to practice good hygiene or keep up with her homework. Regan has no friends because she excommunicated herself from her social circle after Luna was teased for wearing a dress to a grade school birthday party. In fact, Regan couldn’t even go on a date with her crush because of her fears about having a trans sister. 

All the agony and fear that the family experiences stands in stark contrast to Luna’s life because she mostly enjoys an unburdened and carefree existence. In fact, Luna is portrayed as having a “perfect life.” She is super popular at school, dates the prettiest girl, and is adored by her teachers for her intellect. She also has tons of money to buy whatever she wants, including her own car or airfare because she runs her own computer repair business. 

In isolation, these descriptions may seem like positive representations of Luna’s character. However, since they are narrated through the lens of Regan’s suffering and jealousy, Luna comes off as a self-centered character, which highlights the author’s poor character development of Luna and her tendency to info dump transgender theories throughout the story.

Info Dumping and Character Development 

“Info dumping” refers to an ineffective method of storytelling that involves cramming large amounts of exposition into a story. While the information can be pertinent to the story, “info dumps” are often jarring for readers, as they can remove the reader from the story, by forcing them to listen to what feels like a detailed book report. Info dumping can sometimes be a sign of poor character development or world building, which seems to be the case with Luna.

Surprisingly, we learn about trans identity from Regan in at least three instances of her info-dumping gender terminology. This method greatly interrupts the flow of the story because it is not believable that a teenage girl would suddenly ruminate on the etymology of gender theories. It would seem reasonable to assume that Luna, the only trans character, would be guiding readers in understanding trans identity. Furthermore, Regan’s impressive gender vocabulary did not often translate into how she thought about and treated her sister, as she essentially seemed to be trying to force her sister to stay in the closet.

Ultimately, to get through this book, I decided to view Regan as having intrusive thoughts about gender vocabulary or that she was sometimes possessed by a gender studies professor. Because the majority of these info dumps are delivered in exposition reflections from Regan, the reader could miss the opportunity to connect with the story as they are suddenly flooded with gender terms. 

It would have been more effective to break those terms and concepts into actionable dialogue or experiences that connected with both characters. I would argue that it’s less important for readers to walk away with an exhaustive list of gender vocabulary and more about connecting with the humanity of a character. 

Either way, Regan’s info dumping underscores Luna’s lack of character development and dialogue in the novel, which confined Luna to the role of a stereotypical trans girl; an empty two-dimensional puppet used to move the plot along. Instead, readers need to be able to connect with Luna as a whole person, with fears, desires, and motivations beyond being trans.

Luna does not have a lot of dialogue, but, when she does speak, it is often related to her selfish, shallow, and vain obsession with her appearance and passing (being accepted and recognized as a girl in social situations). Luna’s focus on passing often comes at a great cost to Regan and at times places them both in danger. These scenes are particularly cringey because the reader is guided by Regan’s transphobia and discomfort.  

Stereotypes about transgender people, particularly casting trans women as hyper-feminine, vain, and obsessive, have a long-standing and harmful history in the media. These misrepresentations are often the fuel for transphobic legislation and violence against trans women. 

I cannot unpack the entire history of transgender stereotypes here, but I highly recommend watching the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure by Sam Feder, Amy Scholder, and Laverne Cox to better understand the history and impact of transgender stereotypes used in the media.

We Can Do Better

Hopefully, examining the specific pitfalls in Luna has provided a better understanding of what is at stake when we misrepresent a marginalized community. I hope this critical analysis did not scare you away from inclusive writing. It is possible to provide equitable and nuanced representations of marginalized communities when we are intentional with character development, world building, and plot. 

There are also limitless resources available to guide our understanding of transgender identity. I am hesitant to provide an official list of these resources for understanding transgender identity for many reasons. For one thing, understanding marginalized communities’ experiences with systematic inequality and misrepresentation is less about memorizing terms and historical facts and more about understanding the humanity and resilience of each group. 

We can gain that by surrounding ourselves with the stories and experiences of transgender people. Depending on how you prefer to learn and connect with others, I would start by reading trans memoirs and following trans people on social media and, because I am an academic to my core, I would also recommend reading more about theories on the social construction of gender.

Most importantly, we must elevate and support the work of trans authors and creators. Lastly, we need to hold each other accountable for appropriation and poor representation of marginalized communities, especially when the work is exploitative, inaccurate, or full of harmful stereotypes.  

Please see my recommended list of memoirs and authors below.  

Recommended Resources 

Memoirs

• She’s Not There: A Life In Two Genders by Jennifer Finney Boylan
• Nina Here Nor There: My Journey Beyond Gender by Nick Kriege
• Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family by Amy Ellis Nutt
• Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More by Janet Mock
• Unprotected by Billy Porter 

Academic and Social Science

• Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women and the Rest of Us by Kate Bornstein
• Undoing Gender by Judith Butler
• Beyond The Binary: Thinking About Sex and Gender by Shannon Dea
• Trans* In College Z. Nicolazzo
• Whipping Girl by Julia Serano
• Transgender History by Susan Stryker
• Beyond The Gender Binary Alok Vaid-Menon

Colice Sanders is a blogger and diversity, equity, and inclusion facilitator. Colice writes nonfiction, poetry, and memoir. Her blog, A Reason to Rise, chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. 

You can also reach her on LinkedIn and Instagram.

The post The Messy Middle: Luna & the Rise of Trans Narratives appeared first on DIY MFA.

To achieve this goal, we recognized that we must move beyond surface-level representations of diversity and instead strive to make invisible systems of privilege and inequality visible to our readers. We will avoid the temptations of cultural appropriation by being prepared to be held accountable for our cultural depictions. However, what if, despite our commitment to doing all of these things, we still somehow get “it” wrong?

The fear of getting “it” wrong (being politically incorrect) or being “called out” (and canceled) is a common barrier to inclusive writing, but perhaps our reactions and beliefs about political correctness are what needs adjusting. This post will offer a framework for responding to concerns about cultural representations in our published work and social media posts.

Political Correctness Consciousness

The internet would feel like less of a cultural war zone if we viewed political correctness as less of an attempt to silence free speech or a trendy obsession with “labels”. “Why can’t we all just be humans, humaning?” is often asked when it comes to concerns about political correctness. The answer will always be that privilege and inequality exist; we do not all experience the world in the same way.

Political correctness is a sometimes imperfect attempt to be conscious of the fact that some marginalized identities have not had the access or political power to define their own experiences. Historically, the terms used to reference marginalized communities have been ascribed to them without their input and are often steeped in histories of inaccuracy, erasure, violence, and bias. What we often dismiss as identity politics is, in reality, an attempt at respecting and understanding the experiences of others.

Despite our best intentions and efforts, we cannot know the “correct” terms for every marginalized identity. Therefore, when we are approached about problematic, outdated, and offensive terms, we can apologize and then lean in to listen, without getting defensive. 

Called Out or Called In?

I believe in the power of dialogue to create systematic change. However, bullying, stalking, threats of harm, and demands to change your content are not acceptable ways to have these conversations and should not be tolerated. 

It is sometimes difficult to determine if the critiques we receive are from internet trolls or people who have genuinely been negatively impacted by our writing. There is a very important difference between the two. Are we being called out for attention or are we being called in because someone finds value in our work? What if we shifted our focus from ourselves and placed it on the person raising the concern?

If we imagine our content as our vehicle, we may be able to better visualize how our writing can negatively impact our readers. Somehow, we accidentally ran a red light and crashed into someone else’s car. It seemed like a light fender bender, nothing dramatic but, as we stare out our windshield, the driver looks really hurt, and other people have gathered around them. Everyone seems very angry at us.

Content Fender Benders

A content fender bender^TM (just kidding) happens when readers or critics take us to task for cultural appropriation, reductive stereotypes, tone deafness, or otherwise harmful misrepresentations. Thinking of our content as a vehicle can be a useful metaphor because it encourages us to spend less time deciphering who was at fault and, instead, focus on the people who were harmed and to determine our next steps.

Who’s at the Center?

Ring Theory, developed by clinical psychologist Susan Silk and Barry Goldman, is a simple guide for navigating everyday conversations about difficult or traumatic events. The theory is often utilized in diversity and inclusion, allyship, and crisis management spaces. Silk came up with the idea while battling breast cancer and feeling drained by having to manage her loved one’s feelings over her health crisis. 

Ring Theory asks us to first identify who is at the center of the crisis and to place them in a circle. Everyone outside of the immediate circle should work together to offer support for the people in the circle. Those outside of the circle should resist processing, grieving, or complaining to people inside the circle and, instead, find other spaces to work through their feelings. The goal is to have support flowing into the inner circle and complaints flowing outwards. I find this theory particularly applicable because it emphasizes self-care and accountability.

Put on Your Mask First

If you’ve ever flown on an airplane, you are familiar with the reminder to put your mask on first during a crisis before attending to others. I recommend the same strategy for navigating cultural content fender benders. Log off and take a beat.

Unlike an actual car crash, we can take more time to check in with our feelings before we work through the situation. While it is typically not a good idea to completely ignore a complaint (unless you’re sure the person is trolling you), responding quickly without getting in touch with our emotions can be just as harmful. Consider thanking the commenter for bringing it to your attention or posting a statement that you are taking time to reflect on the concern. 

Ideally, when we step out of our metaphorical “car”, our response should be focused on hearing and understanding how our content negatively affected the other person. But if we are hurt, embarrassed, uninformed, or angry, we can make the situation worse. Once we have made the time to check in with our feelings, we can better address the issue.

Turn into the Skid

Trying to avoid or smooth over these types of concerns can make them worse so, for the love of all that is caffeinated and pumpkin spice in this land, avoid replying with these types of responses:

AVOIDANCE AND DENIAL

“I didn’t intend to hit you”, “I barely hit you”, or “It’s not my fault that you are hurt.”

Don’t get distracted by fault and avoid centering yourself and focusing on your initial intent. Instead, try to ask open-ended questions to better understand how the content affected them. Also remember, we are listening to understand their experience, not for them to educate or fix us.

AWKWARD SELF DISCLOSURES

“I would never intentionally hit you” or “I’m two teaspoons native on my neighbor’s dog’s second cousin’s side of the family”.

Impromptu self-disclosure of genetic ancestry or having friends from marginalized groups does little to address the collision the person experienced. It especially misses the point, because some identity groups do not have the privilege of selectively disclosing their cultural identity as a means of avoiding accountability.

BRING OUT THE HISTORIAN

“Actually, hair extensions were first used in Europe in 16 b.c.”

The conjuring of an inner Wikipedia historian does little to account for the obstacles and lived experiences that some cultural markers have on marginalized people. Trying to use history is just another way to avoid the issue.

There are obviously a lot of nuances that come with this advice, when considering the context of the incident and how to best respond. In summary, my best advice for navigating these situations is to lead with our humanity, take responsibility for negatively impacting others, and most importantly, focus on the center of the circle. 

Colice Sanders is a blogger and diversity, equity, and inclusion facilitator. Colice writes nonfiction, poetry, and memoir. Her blog, A Reason to Rise, chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. 

You can also reach her on LinkedIn and Instagram.

The post The Messy Middle: Cultural Content Fender Benders appeared first on DIY MFA.

So far, we have established the importance of answering the call for diverse and inclusive writing by focusing on specific, honest, and intentional representations of marginalized communities. This requires us to be willing to be held accountable for our depictions and actively work to avoid the temptations of cultural appropriation. In this post, I will outline why we must make invisible systems of privilege and inequality visible to our readers.

Making the Invisible (Privilege), Visible

Privilege refers to the unearned power, access, and benefits that are granted to others based on their perceived membership to a majority group. On a personal level, the privilege encourages a person to see their life as morally neutral, normative, ideal, and often sanctioned by religion. Systematically, privilege is a gatekeeping tool legitimized by our laws, norms, and institutions.  

We risk othering and objectifying underrepresented communities if we do not make the system’s privilege and inequality visible. 

In our inclusive writing efforts, we also sometimes fall short of providing nuanced illustrations of privilege. Challenging ourselves to explore and illustrate privilege should be a universal standard of inclusive writing. However, when it comes to conversations about privilege, we mostly avoid or talk at each other instead of doing the work. Which makes the potty the perfect space to check in with and investigate our privileged identities. Whether you call it the bathroom, restroom, loo, commode, or toilet, I prefer to call it the potty.

The Great Equalizer?

We would assume that restrooms are a bias-free zone, a great equalizer because using the bathroom is one of the most basic needs of every human. However, public bathrooms have historically been used as exclusionary spaces to reinforce systematic inequality and privilege, commonly revolving around denying access (entry) and accessibility (usability) to marginalized groups.

A Brief Potty Politics Overview

Denied Access Based on Racial Identity

• The 1890’s introduction of Jim Crow laws led to an eventual banning of access to bathrooms (among other public spaces) deemed as whites-only in 1915. 
• The 1964 Civil Rights Act was passed to prohibit racial discrimination in public places.
• In 1966, an African American man named Sammy Younge Jr. was murdered for trying to use a whites-only bathroom in Tuskegee, Alabama.

Denied Access and Accessibility Based on Physical Ability

• In 1961, the American National Standards Institute (ANSI) published a guide encouraging private entities to create accessible facilities for people with physical disabilities. This report documented the dismal number of buildings that offered entry and accessibility in public spaces.
• In 1990, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) was passed, which prohibited discrimination based on disability in private and public sectors. This act kick-started the availability of accessible bathrooms (among other things). 

Denied Access Based on Gender Identity

• From 2013-2017, nearly 60 different types of “bathroom bills” have been submitted into legislation to deny or greatly reduce access to restrooms and other facilities based on gender identity assigned at birth. There have been countless confrontations, assaults, and arrests seeking to enforce the spirit of these laws.

Take Your Character(s) To a Public Restroom

The brief history detailed above highlights a surprisingly long history of public bathroom politics. While I have chosen to focus on using the restroom to explore characters’ experiences with systematic inequality and privilege, there are many more everyday spaces that we could choose to investigate. How would your current characters experience a public restroom? Here are some questions to consider:

• Would their stomach rumble with anxiety and the fear of being confronted, assaulted, or arrested because of their gender identity or presentation? 
• Would they feel frustrated at repeatedly waving their hands in front of automated faucets and hand dryers that were not designed to recognize dark skin? 
• Would they say a silent prayer that no one is occupying the sole accessible stall since it is their only option? 
• Would their heart drop in disappointment as they discover that there is no diaper-changing station for the squirming infant in their arms? 
• Would they shake their head in disappointment as they shoved a wad of toilet tissue or paper towels in their pants because there is no sanitary napkin dispenser?
• Do they struggle to fit into the stalls, contorting their bodies and fighting through dispensers that dig into their hips and legs?

What would your character’s experience tell you about the nature of privilege and inequality and how it functions as a system?

Colice Sanders is a blogger and motivational speaker. Colice writes YA, poetry, and memoir. Her blog areasontorise.com chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. You can reach her on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram!

The post It’s Messy in The Middle: Potty Inequality appeared first on DIY MFA.

As a cisgender person who has only truly known and loved a handful of gender non-conforming people, I have been reluctant to center my voice on how to write about gender identity. It is not a topic I feel I should be taking up space to talk about, however, after learning that over the last five years, cis authors have somehow cornered the market on writing trans narratives in fiction, I realized that it was time for me to speak up.

Put me in, coach!

For most cis authors, our initial understanding of trans identity has been fueled by cisgender privilege, Christian upbringings, and decades of media misrepresentation. Therefore, it’s reasonable to assume that there are remnants of transphobia, trans misogyny, and cis sexism still coursing through our veins. These biases have the potential to reveal themselves in unintended ways when attempting to write about gender identity, which can lead to real-world consequences for gender non-conforming communities. 

I want to assume that most cis authors who attempt to write trans characters do so in the spirit of inclusion and a desire to affirm trans people, but it’s alarming to realize that the majority of published and acclaimed novels about trans identity have been written by cisgender authors. These novels are then consumed by cisgender readers who accept them as gospel instead of recognizing that they are clumsily written transition fantasies that have been shoehorned into the Cinderella story.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Stop It!

Cinderella is the perfect analogy for understanding trans narrative tropes. It starts with Cinderella, or better yet, Transition-ella, who finds themselves struggling to be accepted by their family and community. Since Transition-ella is a trans person, they are put through gratuitous violence, shame, and suffering, without addressing the systems in place that fuel anti-trans violence. Transition-ella’s suffering ends when their cisgender fairy godmother shows up to teach them how to be a “real” woman or man. Cue the voyeuristic montage of gender bootcamp that culminates in the achievement of hyper-femininity or hyper-masculinity (you can only choose one). This enables Transition-ella to achieve the ultimate goal of hetero romantic love, and they live happily (hidden) ever after in an unchanged anti-trans world. I feel my eye twitching.

Life Beyond Gender Transitions

By solely focusing on the “before” and “after” of transgender identity, this type of narrative can border on fetishism. I certainly do not mean to suggest that family and community acceptance, violence, trauma, and transitioning are not realistic themes, because they are. However, I am frustrated that they have become so formulaic that they have begun to reinforce the very transgender stereotypes those same authors set out to work against. 

I believe that when cisgender authors incorporate trans and gender non-binary perspectives in their work purely for personal gain, without credible research, or compensating, and acknowledging members of the community, they are engaging in cultural appropriation. We don’t have to look far to find several members from gender non-conforming communities begging cisgender authors to stop engaging in these tactics. To read about my views on cultural appropriation, read my last column It’s Messy In the Middle: Unpacking Cultural Appropriation.

The Messy Middle of Gender Identity

While I still believe there should not be limits placed on art, expression, creativity, or imagination, I also believe that there are stories that we have to recognize are not ours to tell, especially when the stakes are so high. Within the US, trans women continue to be murdered and assaulted at alarming rates. Trans people continue to struggle in their fight for civil rights, access to healthcare, and basic survival. Do you believe that you can craft a character in the messy middle of gender identity? Can you make visible all the invisible ways that gender identity functions as a system of power and privilege in our lives? Can you craft worlds that include trans joy, resilience, and courage while facing insurmountable odds? If you have answered a resounding yes to each of these questions, I look forward to reading your work, and please be prepared to be held accountable.

Colice Sanders is a blogger and motivational speaker. Colice writes YA, poetry, and memoir. Her blog areasontorise.com chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. You can reach her on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram!

The post It’s Messy in the Middle: Rethinking Transgender Narratives appeared first on DIY MFA.

Some conversations about cultural appropriation can feel about as useful as a pile of hot garbage. However, intentionally making space to listen to experiences with cultural appropriation has the potential to not only enrich our writing, but also our humanity.

The term cultural appropriation was first introduced, within academic circles of the 1980s, by anthropologist Edward Tyler, in reference to colonization. Within the publishing world, cultural appropriation refers to the common (often clumsily and misinformed) practice of incorporating elements of marginalized cultural identity or perspectives for personal gain. 

Representation Matters

At the heart of readers’ anger and sadness over culturally appropriated stories is the way in which society continues to devalue and discriminate against marginalized cultural traditions, while at the same time praising the “creativity” and “uniqueness” of those traditions when they are used by the majority.

Authors who appropriate content typically fail to conduct extensive research, gather community input, highlight current advocacy/support efforts, or simply acknowledge the community that they are “borrowing” from or “appreciating.” Instead, these authors tend to rely on their own majority perspective and ignore the way in which their depictions can create real-world consequences for marginalized communities.

In my first post, It’s Messy in The Middle: Answering the Call, I suggested that, if we are to answer the call for diversity and inclusion from our readers and publishers, we must be specific, honest, and intentional with our writing. 

In this post, I want to focus on how we must also be willing to be held accountable by actively working to avoid cultural appropriation in our writing. 

Mainstream conversations about cultural appropriation can feel pointless because they are often framed as polarized “debates” that are structured around the same closed-ended questions. Can authors write about situations that they have not experienced? Of course, they can, but they should also expect to be held accountable for the impact of their work.

A Spoonful of Sugar…

If we can be honest with ourselves—and I’m talking real, staring into a three-way mirror butt naked honesty—we have to acknowledge our appetite for appropriated stories. Box office revenues and best-selling book lists illustrate our preference for considering oppression and adversity through the lens of thin, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied, white identities.

Majority audiences are not comfortable hearing about oppression unless a majority perspective guides it. This means we will delight in exploring fat-shaming if it is portrayed by a beautiful thin celebrity in a fat suit. We are willing to journey through the historical scars of racism if there are white allies included that save the day or thump their chests at injustice. 

We often rely on famous able-bodied actors to teach us about disability, and we are willing to suspend our hyper heterosexuality and trans misogyny if we can gain insight from cisgender heterosexual actors about LGBTQ experiences. Best-selling novels also illustrate our preference for appropriated adversity stories.

The Handmaid’s Tale

Margaret Atwood’s 1985 best-selling book The Handmaid’s Tale, an American dystopia novel, faced a great deal of scrutiny for “borrowing” from the historical experiences that black women endured during chattel slavery. Atwood, a middle-class white woman, was accused of blatantly whitewashing black slave narratives by inserting white women into experiences of lynching, forced reproductive labor, branding, and limits on education in the novel. The Handmaid’s Tale was so successful for Atwood that it was turned into a television series that launched its first season on Hulu in 2017 and is nearing its sixth season.

The Help

Kathryn Stockett’s 2009 Novel The Help tells the story of working-class African American maids who worked in the south during the 1960s. It’s worth noting that Stockett, a Caucasian American middle-class woman, was sued for using the likeness and background of her brother’s African American housekeeper without her knowledge. 

Readers of The Help overwhelmingly rejected the overly simplistic portrayals of black culture and obvious white savior plot lines. The Help was so successful that it was adapted into a major motion film in 2011 that received more acclaim and success.

American Dirt

Jeanine Cummins’s 2019 American Dirt received heaping praise and accolades within the publishing industry, which landed her attention from Oprah and put her book on track to be adapted into a television series. 

American Dirt tells the story of a Mexican mother’s suspenseful fight to get her son to the border after their entire family is murdered by a drug cartel. Cummins was accused of rebranding herself as Hispanic to deliver a two-dimensional highly appropriated account of Mexican immigrant experiences. The vitriol over the “cliché” and harmful stereotypes presented in American Dirt ultimately derailed the book tour and film adaptation.

Yes, AND Expect Notes…

I believe that there should not be limits placed on art, expression, creativity, or imagination. Authors have always had the freedom to write about whatever they want, as they should. The fiction genre would not exist if authors were limited to direct personal experiences. 

We also desperately need more equitable representation of marginalized communities in all forms of media, but this should not preclude accountability for work that is exploitative, inaccurate, disrespectful, or full of harmful stereotypes.

We write novels and put them out into the world for people to explore, discuss and connect with. Authors should be expected to do extensive research, with the ultimate goal of crafting believable and realistic worlds. 

Novels that include historical events, space travel, or any professional job (police, doctors, firefighters, etc.) are often placed under a microscope for accuracy and believability. We should expect and prepare for this same level of critique when we are portraying marginalized and underrepresented identities. 

Moving forward

If we are going to craft complex characters and build dynamic worlds that readers with marginalized identities can connect with, we are going to have to be willing to do the work, get messy, and be held accountable. Here’s where to start:

1. Research 

Gather robust community input and seek to capture differing opinions and experiences. Research common societal stereotypes of this group and how they impact the community.

2. Give Credit

Acknowledge the community experiences that you are portraying in your book, in interviews, on social media, and when you receive praise.

3. Highlight Needs

Uplift and acknowledge current advocacy efforts to support the community you wrote about. Encourage others to learn more about these efforts and consider inviting advocates to join you on your book tour.

4. Make it Rain

Donate a portion or percentage of your profits back to the community. Consider creating a renewable scholarship. Hire sensitivity readers from the community.

Colice Sanders is a blogger and motivational speaker.  Colice writes YA, poetry, and memoir. Her blog areasontorise.com chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. You can reach her on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram!

The post It’s Messy in the Middle: Unpacking Cultural Appropriation appeared first on DIY MFA.