Reading While Black

I told myself to stop getting involved in these types of discussions, to use my summer to chill out after a frenetic semester at school but I couldn’t!

Monica made a post about the duel of words between Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez and Linda Nieves Powell over the use of the word “Latina” to describe themselves as authors. I agree with Alisa coming on the heels of my argument against the segregation of black romance authors from the rest of the pack. Karen then posted on her blog about it and a few comments rang my bell!

Needless to say, I hopped into the fray (hey, my name was mentioned!).

Being a minority in America is a double-edged burden not only without the community, but within. But the outsiders are the ones who have the most difficulty understanding this. As I said on Karen’s blog, if I wanted to become a published author, I don’t want my book to be stuffed on the “African-American” fiction shelves as though, because of my skin color and/or the skin color of my characters, my book is only for black people (yanno, that good old reliable niche marketing!). If the book is a romance novel, or a mystery, or a fantasy novel, what does the skin color of either myself or my characters have to do with the book? Who said that black people are the only ones who want to read about black people?

But on the other hand, what the majority doesn’t understand is that when the world is filtered through that majority, it’s a bit of a relief to be able to see something filtered through what you look like, to see someone who looks like you in the pages of a novel, or on the big screen, or even just a newscaster because it makes you feel that you are valid, that being a minority isn’t a bad thing or precludes you from joining in the fun, that your voice as a minority matters and is allowed to be heard. Didn’t we women, as girls, feel it was unfair that only boys got to get dirty when playing outside, that we only saw male superheros save the day in comic books, that the boys got picked to answer questions in class, etc? But we still cherish being women and the perks of being a woman, don’t we?

That is the point I am trying to get across when I come out and defend my stance against the deceptions of niche marketing and the wrong that is segregation fiction authored by black writers from their respective genres. But on that note, no one tells non-black authors they are only allowed to pen novels with characters of their ethnicity and/or culture.

On that note, here’s a copy of the resignation letter Valdes-Rodriguez handed in when she quit her lucrative-paying job. So true!

Thought-provoking in a way following the death of Kathleen E. Woodiwess…

I heard this news via the AAR message boards, but Bonnie Vanak blogged about the death of Ronda Thompson, author of paranormal and historical romances. The premature death of a little-known author sort of reminds me of the passing of Cheryl Anne Porter a few years back, as well as the case of Katherine D. Jones.

In a way the silence their deaths garnered causes me to view authors with less gung-ho: they are not omnipresent, there to do my bidding, or to be my bestest pal, while at the same time making me want to tell authors to not do this for the fame and fangirls, to not get so hyped about having yes-men or squabble over petty stuff like RWA requirements(for the umpteenth time I tell ya!)–all that is just ego. Whether 1000 people read your books or 10,000, at least you’ve followed your dreams and touched the hearts and lives of many through your work.