there is ink in every color
I'm a brown man who writes fantasies.
Let's unpack that a bit:
Brown: Mexican, actually, and child of immigrants/first American-born generation in California, to be really specific. I grew up bilingual, and was educated in English, so it's the language I write in, and tend to think in (although, that's not an absolute)--but Spanish informs how I think about language, and it's definitely what gives my writing a large part of its voice.
Man: Lots of privilege there, even though I subvert it as much as possible because A) it's wrong and it feels that way, and B) I'm queer.
Fantasy: I love speculative fiction of all kinds, but it's fantasy that's my true love. Give me a bit of magic in a story, and I'm there. I really want to stretch the world a littler wider in that direction.
Do these things affect what I write?
Oh hell yes.
Living in society that is white-dominated, and reading in genres that are, too, I don't often get to read stories with people who resemble me, or by authors who do. So, what solution? I need to write the stories. I also need to point out the fact that there are so few stories like that, and most especially, I need to engage in criticism and public discourse about those stories that erase or negate people of color. I need to support others like me--in the widest sense, not simply those who are like me in color (although yes, us especially), but in thought.
As I've written before, I think what we do as artists has a real and profound effect on the world. I want to continue to make sure that as many voices are possible get the chance to shape their stories.
It's work. It needs to be done.
It's important.
Here's a very eloquent essay by Nalo Hopkinson writing about why she does it.
I'm posting this partly in support of the protest by Fen of Color United, and mostly because damn it, I've been realizing (again!) my own moral agency as a writer and how that speaks with my art as well as with my person.
Let's unpack that a bit:
Brown: Mexican, actually, and child of immigrants/first American-born generation in California, to be really specific. I grew up bilingual, and was educated in English, so it's the language I write in, and tend to think in (although, that's not an absolute)--but Spanish informs how I think about language, and it's definitely what gives my writing a large part of its voice.
Man: Lots of privilege there, even though I subvert it as much as possible because A) it's wrong and it feels that way, and B) I'm queer.
Fantasy: I love speculative fiction of all kinds, but it's fantasy that's my true love. Give me a bit of magic in a story, and I'm there. I really want to stretch the world a littler wider in that direction.
Do these things affect what I write?
Oh hell yes.
Living in society that is white-dominated, and reading in genres that are, too, I don't often get to read stories with people who resemble me, or by authors who do. So, what solution? I need to write the stories. I also need to point out the fact that there are so few stories like that, and most especially, I need to engage in criticism and public discourse about those stories that erase or negate people of color. I need to support others like me--in the widest sense, not simply those who are like me in color (although yes, us especially), but in thought.
As I've written before, I think what we do as artists has a real and profound effect on the world. I want to continue to make sure that as many voices are possible get the chance to shape their stories.
It's work. It needs to be done.
It's important.
Here's a very eloquent essay by Nalo Hopkinson writing about why she does it.
I'm posting this partly in support of the protest by Fen of Color United, and mostly because damn it, I've been realizing (again!) my own moral agency as a writer and how that speaks with my art as well as with my person.