Tweeting about George Ebey's DEBBI!

Live-tweeting Kiran Oliver's DAYBREAK RISING!

Real review coming soon to this blog :-)

The cognitive dissonance of having a problematic favorite

Back in December, I blogged about how reading/writing while underrepresented screws with your head. Two of the biggest sources of angst for me are 1) trying to figure out how/whether to cheer for things that are awesome but problematic and 2) wondering whether you're doing enough to be an advocate for the change you want so, so badly.

Today, I witnessed a Twitter storm that brought those questions to the forefront of my mind again and twisted my brain into knots (gonna avoid specifics to protect the innocent, but I have a feeling much of Book Twitter will know what I'm talking about). It's one thing to call out a Big Famous Property for problematic depictions of minorities, especially when it's not one you're particularly attached to. It's another when you realize that something you love is problematic. And it's the worst when it's someone you know and adore... Or even yourself.

The first time I read Gone with the Wind, I was a ten-year-old who'd lived in North Carolina for as long as she could remember. And I friggin' loved it. I loved how it brought a bygone era to life. I loved how Scarlet was smart and strong and brave. I loved that she was anything but perfect... That she could be mean and selfish and even cruel, but still the heroine. I loved Rhett Butler's roguish charm. I loved Melanie's quiet strength and wisdom. And... I loved Mammy for her strength, stubbornness, and sense of honor.

Then I grew up. Learned history (real history, not that fluff they teach you in elementary school). Saw people criticize what I'd been calling my favorite book for years. Reread the book and was like, "OH SHIT."

Many denounce Gone with the Wind for its awful depictions of slavery and racism, and they are totally right to do so. There are happy slaves and simple-minded slaves and lazy freed slaves who just want to go back to their masters and get taken care of (*cringecringecringe*). Scarlet's love interests become members of the goddamn KKK (*criiiiiiiiinge*). Mammy doesn't even have a name, or any motivations of her own beyond propping up the white heroine (*curls up into a little ball of pure cringiness*). For these reasons (and more), many would dismiss Gone with the Wind as racist garbage from a racist era. And that is their right.

But... But... But...

But Scarlet is still an amazing strong female antihero, unafraid to be herself in an era where women were supposed to be oh-so-nice. Rhett Butler is still a fantastic, swoon-worthy romantic hero. A bygone era still comes to life--from a certain point of view. And even knowing what I know, even understanding how awful parts of it are, I can't shake my fondness for that damn book.

I still consider it one of my favorites. I tried not to, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't hold a special fondness for it despite its problems.

So where does that leave me?

Denouncing Gone with the Wind (even just to myself) felt like a betrayal because there are so many parts that are so, so good. At the same time, liking it also felt like a betrayal, because so much of it goes against what I believe I stand for.

Gone with the Wind was one of the first of my favorites that I realized was problematic (super-duper-uber problematic). It was far, far, far, far, far from the last. And more keep popping up, either because I take another look at something in retrospect, or I discover something new.

Last summer, I stumbled upon the Netflix comedy Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. And I was hooked from the very beginning. It was hilarious, clever, and seemingly progressive, with its unabashed feminism and its gay African American co-lead.

And then they introduced an East Asian character named Dong and made his name a running joke.

The look on my face was probably something like this: -________-

The conversation in my head went something like this:

Usual Me: Did... Did they just make a racist Asian joke?
Wiser Me: Yes. Yes they did.
Usual Me: But they acknowledged it! They addressed it! The characters KNOW that making fun of Dong's name is wrong! And Dong is a real East Asian name!
Wiser Me: It's still a cheap joke that hinges on an East Asian character's name. Plus, he's a walking bundle of stereotypes. Math whiz who works at a cheap restaurant and wants to marry for a green card? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Usual Me: But... But the show acknowledges all that! And there ARE Asians who are math whizzes... I was one once! I have family that works at a cheap restaurant! I know someone who married for a green card! These are all true things that happen!
Wiser Me: Doesn't mean it's okay for the only East Asian character on the show to be all these things bundled up... and not much more.
Usual Me: But... But he's a love interest for the main character! And if you look really hard, there might be some actual character traits? Also, it's cool that there's an East Asian character with a significant role in the first place. Right? Right???
Wiser Me: Damn, your bar is low.
Usual Me: Okay, but it's Tina Fey's show. Tina Fey is awesome. Tina Fey is progressive. We love Tina Fey.
Wiser Me: We do love Tina Fey. That doesn't mean she can't fuck up.
Usual Me: But... But... But Tina Fey is one of the Good People! She didn't MEAN to offend anyone! And she's smart... I'm sure she thought about all this!
Wiser Me: And she fucked up. Good People can fuck up too.
Usual Me: Maybe we're being too sensitive.
Wiser Me: If we're uncomfortable, then there is something problematic here.
Usual Me: But we still love Tina Fey and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, and we still can't wait to binge-watch the next season.
Wiser Me: That is all fair. You can like something and find it problematic at the same time.
Usual Me: *le sigh*
Wiser Me: *le sigh*

Oftentimes, it feels like the world is all about picking sides. Are you with us or against us? Team Batman or Team Superman? Are you Us or Them? Are you right or wrong?

The hard thing about finding your favorites problematic is that it can feel like you're betraying your team. Like, "I'm supposed to be rooting for this, so why am I picking at its problems?" And the closer a favorite is to your heart, the harder it is to say, "Wait a minute, maybe this isn't okay." It can feel like switching sides and rooting against something you still desperately want to cheer on. Especially when it isn't you specifically who has an issue with it.

Recently, J.K. Rowling unveiled a few short write-ups on Magic in North America on the Pottermore website. Like most people my age, I grew up with Harry Potter and loved it (well, most of it). J.K. Rowling always seemed so cool and progressive. I was sure she was one of the diversity Good People, especially when she tweeted her glowing approval of black Hermione in "Harry Potter in the Cursed Child". And when I read the first installment of Magic in North America, I thought nothing of it. Seemed a little phoned in writing-wise, kind of like a super high level encyclopedia entry, but I was basically just like *shrug*.

Then I began seeing criticisms of her depictions of Native Americans. They called J.K. Rowling out on treating Native Americans as a monolith when, in reality, there are over 500 distinct and diverse nations. They called her out on using lazy stereotypes about Native American earth magic and such. They called her out on appropriating skinwalkers, which comes from Navajo lore and has real spiritual meaning for many.

Oh. Shit.

Usual Me: Oh shit. But we love J.K. Rowling.
Wiser Me: We can still love J.K. Rowling. But she fucked up.
Usual Me: We fucked up too, then.
Wiser Me: We most certainly did.
Usual Me: We didn't mean to!! We just didn't know any better!!!
Wiser Me: I'm sure the same thing is true of her. It's not an excuse.
Usual Me: What do we do???
Wiser Me: We acknowledge the fuck-up. We apologize for the fuck-up. We fix the fuck-up as best we can. We try not to fuck up again.
Usual Me: But no one reads our books. Or our blog. We are a small-time nobody author. Can't we just--
Wiser Me: No. Walk the walk, coward.
Usual Me: You're mean.
Wiser Me: Tough love.
Usual Me: Can I have a cookie?
Wiser Me: Not until you apologize for your fuck-up.

Bear with me for a moment while I digress from this blog's intended subject and do what Wiser Me advised.

I appropriated skinwalkers too. In The Firedragon, my YA dystopian fantasy about a monster-fighting teen girl. Among the creatures she encounters: a manticore (a Eurasian mythological beast), a spearfiend (a thing I made up), a hellhorn (another thing I made up), and... a skinwalker. Because I thought they were like manticores... mythological creatures from long, long, long ago that no one really believed in that could be adapted for fantasy tales. Like how every author who writes fantasy/paranormal/horror has their own take on dragons, vampires, ghosts, zombies, angels, demons...

But I'm not here to make excuses. I'm here to say I'm sorry. I did something wrong because I didn't know it was wrong then, but now that I do, I'm not going to do it again. I was a total ignoramus, and now, I know better.

I'm really, really sorry.

There will be no more creatures called skinwalkers in that series. If the made-up creature that the Firedragon encounters turns up again, it will come with a different name and an explanation that this is most certainly not a skinwalker, that the creature was misnamed, that treating skinwalkers the same way as manticores and my totally made-up nonsense like spearfiends is not okay. NOT. OKAY.

Again, I'm sorry. I can't unwrite the book that was published. It's out there for good, with my terrible, ignorant mistake glaring from its pages. But I can acknowledge that it was a mistake. And I can promise I won't make the same again.

My turn to be the problematic one.

Which really, really sucks because, for the past two years, I've done my best learn about the issues surrounding diversity, read different perspectives, and advocate for an end to such problems. Fuck. My. Life.

Anyway, back to the topic of problematic favorites.

Diversity is hard. You can do your best to do everything right and still fuck up (like I did). J.K. Rowling probably thought she was helping the diversity effort by including Native Americans in her fictional lore, rather than erasing them in favor of another Eurocentric fantasy. Tina Fey probably thought that having her characters acknowledge how racist name jokes and East Asian stereotypes are would help call them out, rather than exacerbate the problem. Hell, Margaret Mitchell did extensive research before writing Gone with the Wind. She probably thought she was doing the right thing by depicting African American characters in her version of a positive light (Mammy, Pork, and Dilcey are all dignified, intelligent, and loyal characters, which would be positive traits if they had any personality beyond that and didn't exist solely to prop up the white characters).

If you see one, you're missing something.
If you see both, your brain hurts.

Problematic favorites cause a lot of cognitive dissonance. You see two things that are equally true, but that can't both be true. My favorite analogy to this is the classic rabbit/duck illusion. At first, it's just one. Let's say duck (see the beak?) Then, you start to see the other. Let's say rabbit (see the ears?). Seeing the rabbit means you can't let yourself see the duck anymore. But you KNOW the duck is still there. And then you start seeing both... a weird rabbit-duck... and that just makes no sense.

Unless you remind yourself that most things are more than one thing. The image is both a rabbit and a duck. One does not negate the other. They are both correct. And you'll just have to learn to deal with flickering between the two.

Gone with the Wind is a book with an amazing heroine that brings a bygone era to life. This is true.
Gone with the Wind is hella racist. This is also true.
It is still one of my favorite books.
It has many problems. You would be right to criticize it and dump it in the trash and set it on fire and tell everyone to stop reading this garbage.
I can't do that. I'll probably read it again soon. I'll cheer for Scarlet, swoon over Rhett, and cringe when slavery, the KKK, and free African Americans show up on the page.

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt is a hilarious and entertaining comedy with feminist messages. This is true.
Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt depicts its sole East Asian character as a racist stereotype. This is also true.
It is still one of my favorite comedies, and I will almost certainly binge-watch the new season in a single weekend.
It has a glaring problem. Maybe I'm the only one who sees it. I'm well within my rights to boycott it, like I boycotted SNL for years after their racist, yellowface depiction of a Chinese president.
I know I won't do that. I cross my fingers that the next season will stop it with the East Asian stereotypes and lazy jokes. And if they don't, I'll cringe, cringe, cringe until I'm a little ball of cringe-iness. And wonder again if I'm being too sensitive.

J.K. Rowling is a brilliant fantasy author with incomparable worldbuilding skills. This is true.
She built her Magic in North America world from stereotypes and cultural appropriation. This is also true.
I still love her world, the wonderful world of Harry Potter. I'll almost certainly read or watch anything new she dreams up from that world.
That world will still be problematic. You'd be totally right to criticize it and boycott any new movies/books/etc that come out of it.
I'll want to join you. I'll hit the retweet button and read the thinkpieces. I'll probably spend my money anyway.

The Twitter storm that prompted me to write this blog post left feeling split. On the one hand, I really, truly love the object of criticism. I've raved about it. I'll continue raving about it. Because it's an amazing thing, and I want it to succeed.

On the other hand, I want diversity and well-done representation. I want problematic representation to be called out for its problems. I want well-crafted and insightful criticisms, even of things I adore, to be seen and heard all up and down the Internet. This is why I was so disappointed by all the silence I witnessed instead.

Some of the loudest voices I knew of were silent. They had good reason to be silent... No one wants to betray a favorite. Especially when it feels personal. Imagine if you were J.K. Rowling's best friend. Or Tina Fey's. Or Margaret Mitchell's (through a potion that allowed you to stay young and progressive for almost a century). Would you amplify the criticism of their work? Even when that critcism aligns with what you profess to stand for?

I wouldn't want to. But doing nothing felt wrong as well. So I did, in the smallest, most insignificant way possible.

I retweeted something. With a disclaimer.

I don't know if I agree with what I retweeted. I don't think I know enough to agree or disagree. I don't know if anyone even saw or cared what I did (like I said, I'm nobody! Who are you? ;-) If you got that reference, have a cookie). But I saw something that made me think. I saw something important, something that others should see in order to form their own opinion. I wasn't loud, but I wasn't silent either.

Inaction is action. If I'm willing to comment or amplify commentary on things distant from me, then I should be willing to do so when it hits closer to home too. If I don't, if I'll get involved in so many other things but won't engage when something feels personal, then I'm choosing to let one slide because it's one of my own. (Again, I'm really, really sorry for appropriating skinwalkers in The Firedragon, and I won't do it anymore. And I'll do more research next time.)

I understand those who remain silent. I'm practically one of them (after all, I'm keeping things vague to protect what I consider one of mine). And people who seem more concerned about "eating their own" than discussing the issues pointed out... well, I get it. But it's not productive. And it feels like tone policing.

I'm still disappointed. In the silence, in myself.

When it's something distant and well known, something that seems so big and rich that it's unstoppable, that creates the problem, it's easy to stand up and say, "Hey, that's not right."

When it's my favorite, or hell, even my own work, that's the problem, it feels next to impossible. Because saying so, or even saying it might be so, or even saying "take a look and consider whether it's so," feels like a betrayal.

That isn't how it should be. A criticism is not an attack.

As for criticisms that feel like an attack... well, we all know (or I hope we all know) that tone-policing is not okay. Some people have the right to be angry.

Anyway, I don't have a suitable conclusion to this. Because there is none. When something you love is problematic and goes against what you believe in, what you profess to stand for, there are no easy answers. All I can say is that silence is disappointing.

And if you ever see me do anything (else) problematic, please call me out. Call me out as loudly and angrily as you want. You don't have to be nice. Say what's on your mind.

Because conversation is the first step toward progress.

Battles Worth Reading

Battles Worth Reading 

by

Michael Meyerhofer

            One thing that draws me to George R. R. Martin’s epic series, A Song of Ice and Fire, is that I prefer my epic fantasy with a serious dose of moral ambiguity and realism—especially when it comes to fight scenes. That’s because, for me, those realistic elements greatly heighten the suspense and make a technically imaginary world just a bit more believable. Nothing will make me abandon a book faster than a spritely hero effortlessly slaying a few thousand irredeemable orcs while standing on one foot and using his other hand to juggle health potions. It reminds me too much of how they film bad action movies, i.e. they simply have the hero run around in front of a green screen, lackadaisically waving his gun or sword, then they photoshop in all the dying bad guys in post-production.

            That’s why I love the way Martin does his fight scenes. Yes, you have serial badasses like Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, the Mountain, and the Knight of Flowers… but you also see them lose from time to time. That, as much as Martin’s willingness to axe the occasional protagonist, is what creates suspense. Readers and viewers understand that no matter how quick and strong this character may be, he or she may lose the next fight—maybe fairly, maybe unfairly. And if they do win… well, maybe they won’t exactly do so in an honorable fashion.

            That’s a principle I’ve tried to build into the books of my Dragonkin Trilogy. The bad guys aren’t always bad, nor are the good guys without flaws. By the same token, the good guys most certainly don’t always win. No spoilers, of course, but in the most recent book, Knightswrath, readers are treated to more than one fight that’s decided in a decidedly ignoble fashion. And if anything, things only get better (or worse) when you get to the trilogy’s conclusion, Kingsteel, in which the final face-off involves the sudden, disastrous appearance of… oh, wait, never mind.  J

Wytchfire

By Michael Meyerhofer

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Red Adept Publishing

Book Description

In a land haunted by the legacy of dead dragons, Rowen Locke has been many things: orphan, gravedigger, mercenary. All he ever wanted was to become a Knight of Crane and wield a kingsteel sword against the kind of grown horrors his childhood knows all too well.

But that dream crumbled—replaced by a new nightmare.
War is overrunning the realms, an unprecedented duel of desire and revenge, steel and sorcery. And for one disgraced man who would be a knight, in a world where no one is blameless, the time has come to decide which side he’s on.

Author Bio

 

Michael Meyerhofer grew up in Iowa where he learned to cope with the unbridled excitement of the Midwest by reading books and not getting his hopes up. Probably due to his father’s influence, he developed a fondness for Star Trek, weight lifting, and collecting medieval weapons. He is also addicted to caffeine and the History Channel. 

His fourth poetry book, What To Do If You’re Buried Alive, was recently published by Split Lip Press. He also serves as the Poetry Editor of Atticus Review. His poetry and prose have appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, Brevity, Ploughshares, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Rattle, and many other journals. He and his fiancee currently live in Fresno, California, in a little house beside a very large cactus. 

Author’s Blog: http://www.troublewithhammers.com/

On Twitter: https://twitter.com/mrmeyerhofer

On Red Adept: http://bit.ly/RAPWytch 

On Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20935130-wytchfire 

10 bizarre ways reading/writing while underrepresented messes with your head

A funny thing happens when you're from an underrepresented group. Several funny things, actually. Things that dig their way into your skull whether you like it or not. Of course, I can only speak for myself (as an Asian American... specifically, a Chinese American), but I have a feeling I'm not the only person who experiences these weird brain-twisty things...

10. None of your favorite characters look like you (and you don't even notice)

I love Lord of the Rings! But... But...

I've always loved reading books, watching TV, and going to the movies. I was a fan of lots of characters and actors, and for most of my life, it never even occurred to me that none of them looked like me. Because white (or straight or cis or able-bodied, etc) characters are just regular characters, right? They're blank slates for personalities. And for the longest time, all I noticed were the personalities and that was all I cared about. I didn't see color. Until I realized it was because there wasn't any.

9. Your cosplay options are extraordinarily limited (if they even exist)

Well, at least there's one...

I'm a huge Disney fan, but Mulan didn't come out until I was almost 10 years old. Which meant in my prime princess-ing years, Snow White was the closest I could come to playing dress up as a character and being just that character (instead of being Asian Cinderella or Asian Ariel. And I was still Asian Snow White, I just thought having black hair made me closer to the "real thing"). Then, when Mulan came out, I was a little like *slink*. Because while my parents are Chinese, I've always considered myself first and foremost American (especially since, whenever my parents got mad at me, they'd blame it on "you Americans". Meaning I was the Other at school for being too Chinese and the Other at home for being too American). So suddenly I was associated with a character who, don't get me wrong, is totally awesome and kickass and one of my favorite characters ever, but whose culture I wasn't part of. Also, from there on, every time we played the "which Disney princess are you" game, I was ALWAYS FREAKING MULAN. Others would get associated with princesses because of their personalities (oh, you're bookish, so you're Belle. Oh, you're dreamy, so you're Ariel. Etc). 

Okay, so Disney princesses aren't that big a deal (unless you're a sparkles-loving little girl, as I was, but let's set that aside for a moment). Look around at other fandoms... the options are super-limited too. Star Wars is probably my favorite thing in the world, but who would I dress up as? Asian Leia, maybe. I love the X-Men, but all I have as cosplay options are Jubilee (cute, but so not me), Lady Deathstrike (who gives me serious orientalism vibes), and... well, there are enough X-Men that I'm sure there are more (though let's rule out Wolverine's Japan adventures, which also give me orientalism vibes), but those are the two I can think of. And then there's Firefly, which gives me so much cognitive dissonance because I love the storytelling and the characters, but WHERE ARE THE CHINESE PEOPLE, JOSS??? You have Chinese swearing and Chinese clothes and Chinese food... but NO CHINESE PEOPLE. And no, Fan Dancer #2 doesn't count. Which means I could only ever dress up as Asian River or something. Also, this is cultural appropriation at its finest -- when you nab the decorative aspects of a culture but leave behind the people who created it. (But I still love you, Firefly! And I'd still marathon you any day!)

All this brings me to...

8. You can never tell if you're being too sensitive

9 regulars. In a world that's 50% Chinese stuff. 0 Chinese people.

It took me years to admit that Firefly's cultural appropriation bothered me. I still feel weird saying it. Because seriously, I love that show. And for a while, I wondered... Is it me? Am I just being a soft, coddled, spoiled Millennial who sees Causes everywhere?

Then there are the moments where I'm not sure if I have the right to be offended. For instance, when I first read about Cho Chang (when I was in middle school), my gut reaction was "Holy crap, that name's racist! It's basically Ching Chong!" But no one else seemed to notice, so I quickly went to *slink* "Oh, I'm just being hypersensitive. All the Harry Potter names are funky. It's fine, I guess."

Last year, I fell into the Sherlock hole (what is it about Benedict Cumberbatch!), and I loved every single moment of Ep 1. So I wanted to love every single moment of Ep 2, but kept shuddering when the super oriental Asian characters appeared. And I wondered... Is it me? I mean, Chinese gangs are a thing. Chinese pottery experts do exist. So is there actually anything wrong here, or am I just being hypersensitive again?

This year, I fell into the Lunar Chronicles hole. Love the series. Love Cinder and Scarlet as tough-girl characters, love that Cinder and Cress are techy girls, love the world-building, love the adventure, love the clever plot. But.... But... But... I very nearly didn't pick it up because I saw the words "New Beijing" in the description and immediately thought *groan* here comes another Firefly. It took me months, MONTHS, of hearing praise for the books to get over that. And the whole time I kept wondering, "Is me avoiding this another symptom of my hypersensitivity?" On the other hand, I thought, "Blah, I already suffered through the icky love-the-content-feel-weird-about-the-appropriation thing once... Can't do it again." Finally, I decided to give it a chance. Aaaaaand... Yeah. Though it does a bit better by giving Cinder an Asian love interest (oh hai Prince Kai, you're adorable) and an Asian step-family. So at least there are Asian people this time. Kudos? Cinder isn't described much in the book, and she's said to be "from Europe", so it was implied that she was white until the author came out and said that she's mixed race. Hooray? But it always bugged me how wrong the culture felt. Like... my family is Chinese. I've lived in China. And while reading Cinder, I kept thinking "this feels so Firefly... nominally Asian because of the food and language, but so, so off on the actual culture dynamics." Of course, this is a far-future fantastical world and a retelling of a fairytale, so maybe I'm just being too sensitive because hey, there are mutant wolf-people and cyborgs, so why am I bothering with all this real world worry because

It's freaky when you see both at once. *brain hurts*

clearly it's just a story, and... HERE I GO AGAIN GODDAMMIT.

And on and on and on... It's a weird spot to be in, this cognitive dissonance. Where your gut says "hey, that's kind of offensive!" but your brain says "calm down, Angry Asian Lady, you're overreacting...". You know those optical illusions that are both a rabbit and a duck or something? And you start to see both at the same time and your brain starts flipping back and forth, making you dizzy? Yeah, it's kind of like that. Except about your own opinions.

7. You feel the need to cheer for and defend characters that look like you (even if they suck)

Do I *have* to root for her?!

Cho Chang sucks. Ugh, I still feel a little guilty typing that, but hey, it's my opinion. She's a token pretty girl in two books, a weeping mess and snitching weakling in another, and a shamed mess in the rest. She. Sucks. And she's the only East Asian character of note in the entire Harry Potter series (if there's another that I'm forgetting, that means they weren't noteworthy enough for me to remember and therefore are solidly a token, not a real character). Which is why the moment the Goblet of Fire movie came out, Katie Leung fansites sprang up all up and down the Internet (never mind she was in the movie for 3 seconds and wasn't particularly good in those 3 seconds). Asians around the world were like "Hooray! Asian Harry Potter character!" Except she sucks. Yet for ages, I felt obligated to root for her because not doing so felt like being a race traitor or something. Like, hey, someone threw me a treat in the form of a character who looks like me, so who am I to be ungrateful?

Then there are the "issue" books (and TV shows and movies) that are all about your people, and you feel like you have no choice but to like them because, hey look! They're actually talking about you for once! So when, say, I picked up Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club, I thought I had no choice but to like it. It's been so long since I read that book that I don't recall my exact reaction, but I do remember it was not entirely positive. And yet I kept those thoughts to myself and said only positive things, because how could I *not* root for an Asian author who writes about Asian things? Speaking of issues...

6. You're terrified of being seen as an "issues" person (but don't really have a choice in the matter)

I feel like this at times.

I go back and forth on "outspoken" thing. Honestly, I'm not really an outspoken person, and I don't want to be. I like seeing multiple perspectives and accepting that there are no simple answers (which may be why I'm going through a lot of these brain-twisty things). It's why some of my friends have dubbed me True Neutral.

And yet, despite all the times I've bitten my tongue and contented myself with sipping tea, people remember the few times I do speak up. And suddenly I'm the Angry Asian Lady, which I never wanted to be.

So I'm speaking out more, since that mantle will be thrust on me anyway. Might as well be heard. Though it still annoys me that writing about these things (including in this blog post) will transform me into an "issues" person, which will distort the lens through which people see both me and my work.


5. You zero in on characters that look like you (even if they're on 3 pages)

Why do I remember her so clearly?!

All my focus on Cho Chang might have some Harry Potter readers scratching their heads because honestly, who cares about her? It's Harry and Ron and Hermione and Snape and Dumbledore and a dozen other characters who are actually important. Thing is, though, when you're so used to being invisible, spotting someone who looks like you in fiction makes your eyes pop. You can't not notice. Heck, I noticed every Asian fan dancer and random refugee in the background of Firefly. That Asian Jedi lady who's in Star Wars Episode II for all of 3 seconds during the final battle? I have a very clear mental image of her igniting a green lightsaber and Force-slamming an offscreen battle bot right now (while the rest of the battle that doesn't involve the heroes remains a blur). 

I don't do this on purpose. I don't scour screens searching for people who look like me. It just HAPPENS. And sometimes, I wish it'd STAHP, because it makes me realize how few of them there are, and that just annoys me. Can I go back to not seeing color? Ignorance is bliss and all...

4. You feel extra pressure to get things right

So I've talked about those who got representation wrong, despite what were probably their best intentions (I'm so sorry Joss, Marissa, Ms. Rowling, and Sherlock people! I still love your work! I really do!). Yet I'm sure there are people who, if they read this then read my work, would be like "pot calling the kettle black!" Because maybe the representation in my books is no better in some people's eyes. And because I've written all this (and spoken about things like this), I feel an extra weight in everything I do in my attempts to diversify my own work.

Is... Is this okay by my own standards?

Let's see... I have Aurelia "the Firedragon" Sun, an Asian American teen who fights monsters with double swords. Am I perpetuating orientalism in my own way by having her be another kung-fu-type girl and calling her Firedragon? (I actually got her nickname from my sister, who was the physical model I based the character on. Some of her friends called her Firedragon, and I thought it was cute and fit the character).

Then I have the Jane Colt books, in which the two leads are Eurasian, two love main interests are white, the Asian love interest gets all but written out by Book 2, the Asian mom is dead, the dad who actually has a POV chapter is white, the main villains are white... holy crap, did I whitewash my own book?! No... no... of course not... I have the black starship commander, the two Asian hackers (oh crap, is that a stereotype?!), the black interstellar intelligence agent, the black supergenius... Wait, is this all tokenism?! Also, why is everyone black or white or Asian?! Why didn't I write any characters from other backgrounds?! Sure, some of the characters aren't race-specified, but people are going to assume they're white, and that's just tokenism anyway... Also, is this futuristic society too Western? But it's derived from the world I know and I never claimed it was based on any particular culture, and I'm a born-and-bred American, so am I suddenly not allowed to write a Western-ish culture because I criticized someone else's? Am I being lazy for not try? Am I... Well, crap. I'll bet Joss Whedon doesn't go through this mess.

3. You're expected to represent tons of people (that have little to do with you)

I can't tell you how many times I've been called upon to answer questions about being Asian. These days, I don't mind talking about my Asian American experience, but there was a period of time when it made me feel uber weird because I felt like I was speaking for a ton of people I didn't know (which is also partly why I tend to heavily disclose everything with "this is just me! this is just my experience! I don't claim to speak for everyone!"). 

Now, I'm happy to speak about diversity. Eager to, in fact. But always in the context of my own views only. It's when people ask me more general questions about Asia that I start to go *slink*. I mean, I only spent a total of two years on the continent (ten years apart... one when I was 12, one when I was 22). Then again, I have had certain very Chinese experiences, and it is fun to talk about them from time to time. But each time, there's that little bit of terror that I'm going to do someone wrong by getting something wrong or by perpetuating some stereotype.

2. You can never tell if you're doing enough to advance your own cause

Nice Canva, Mary. Now, walk the walk.

I've made an effort to include diverse characters in the things I write, and yet I always wonder if it's enough. Like, Aurelia "the Firedragon" Sun is the star of her titular novellas, but in the main series those novellas lead up to, she's the secondary character (not a sidekick, but not the main character either). I glance at my character list for the Jane Colt novels and wonder if I've done enough to mix things up. Also, I notice the glaring shortage of LGBTQ+ characters (I'm sorry! I'll do better! Also, let it be known that, though it isn't really explored, Riley is gay, for those of you who were wondering!).

On the one hand, I want to be inclusive in my writing. I want to help make the book world a place where no one will have to feel invisible, like I did. On the other hand, I don't want to turn my books into "issues" books (especially since I write spec fic, and I dare to dream that in the futures/alternate worlds I write in, diversity isn't an issue). Not that there's anything wrong with "issues" books. And not that I won't write one in the future (in fact, my next project might turn into one). But when I go for subtle subversion, quietly diversifying my character casts, I wonder if I'm doing enough.

I wish I had the privilege to not care.

1. You erase yourself

Book with an MC who is half me-looking

The first time I plotted Artificial Absolutes, the first of the Jane Colt books, every major character was white. Why? Because this was what the sci-fi I was accustomed to looked like, and this was, in my head, simply normal. The default. The universal. Which is weird, because I'm Chinese American. You'd think I'd default to characters who looked like me, and that my whole initial cast would be Asian, right? 

Nope. I erased myself.

When I realized what I was doing, I immediately went about changing things. Hey, why can't the starship commander and interstellar intelligence agent be black? Why can't the galactic pop star be Asian? And then I got to the main characters... and for some reason, I was uncomfortable making Jane and her brother Asian, partly because I was new at this whole writing thing and hadn't gotten to the "give zero fucks--just write what you want" attitude yet, so I was worried no one would read a sci-fi book with an Asian lead. So I made them Eurasian (heh, compromise, right?). 

And then I very nearly gave myself a pen name. Not because I didn't like my name, but because "Mary Fan" is obviously female and pretty obviously Asian. Who's gonna read a sci-fi book by an Asian female? I was planning on going with my initials (the only reason I was going to keep my last name was because I couldn't settle on a pen name I liked), but I failed to communicate that to Red Adept. So the cover art came back with my full name printed. I could have asked them to change it, but then I realized that I'd be changing it for all the wrong reasons. There are plenty of good reasons to have a pen name, but hiding and erasing myself wasn't one of them. Maybe that was an unwise decision. Maybe my sales would be better if I were writing as Jack Kent or something. 

Or maybe this is me overthinking everything. As usual.

Like I said. Being underrepresented messes with your head. And it sucks.