Jun 15, 2010 23:45
I'm not going to name or link to the person who committed the latest Fail. One reason is she's already had a lot of people pointing out the error of her ways, by people both more eloquent than I and with more at stake than little ol' privileged white me. The other reason is that - between this and all the other fails that have ripped through fandom over the last year - my thoughts have turned from the specific to the general, and that's what I want to write about here.
All Fails - gender, race, mental and physical capabilities, whatever - have one thing in common: A profound lack of really elementary courtesy. That lack can be attributed to bigotry; it can also be attributed to sheer thoughtlessness. I prefer to think most of the people who've committed the Fails are not deliberately being bigots; I prefer to think they're "merely" thoughtless, insensitive persons who never let the impact or meaning of what they do enter their heads. Ursula LeGuin frequently refers to a state of being as being "mindful." Be mindful of what you say, and think, and do, and believe: be aware of how what you say, and think, and do, and believe shapes the universe you live in.
That standard applies to everything. Once you opt to be mindful, your awareness expands greatly, and committing acts of Fail becomes, if not impossible, then certainly more difficult.
The rules for mindfulness aren't complicated. And they're universal.
1. Don't write about cultures or peoples you know little about, have little understanding of, and have little interest in as anything other than a plot device. Not only will you commit a Fail, your writing will be shallow and, very probably, inaccurate.
2. Don't use tragedies that have occurred within living memory as a setting for stories, unless the stories are directly *about* such tragedies, AND you have sufficient knowledge of the tragedies, and the context in which they occurred, that you can do so intelligently and respectfully. People, real people, do not bleed and die and lose all that made their lives meaningful just so your characters can have a dramatic, storm-tossed passion, or learn the true meaning of courage, or find God, or whatever you're using the tragedy for.
3. Don't use other people's traumas to work out your own issues. Don't use the destruction of a nation and the dispossession of its citizens as a metaphor for personal alienation or a vehicle for personal redemption. Don't rape, mutilate, torture, etc. etc. a character as a stand-in for a person or type of person you dislike.
4. Similarly, don't assume that whatever misery, abuse, etc., you have suffered yourself gives you license to mine other peoples' misery, abuse, etc for dramatic value. Extend to them the respect and kindness you wish had been extended to you.
5. If you have a wonderful plot in mind that requires a national tragedy for a backdrop, use one that happened long ago, whose participants and victims are long since dead. Use time travel if you have to, to put your characters there. Or invent one and put it in an imaginary country, and/or in an imaginary time.
These rules don't specifically reference race, gender, mental or physical traits, or any other recognizable "type." That's because they don't have to: they apply to everyone.
A long time ago, as part of my becoming aware of the role language played in perpetuating sexual stereotypes, I made a deliberate decision to de-genderize my speech. It took some doing, a conscious change of common nouns and such, but I was able to do it: fire fighter, police officer, server, mail carrrier, humankind, chairperson, Congressperson, etc. And now it seems foreign and strange to *not* use nongendered words (and very jarring to hear other people use gendered ones). The process wasn't that hard; it just took attention and consistency until it became ingrained.
Becoming mindful isn't that hard. It just takes paying attention, making conscious choices, and soon becomes automatic.