Diverse Stories Matter: Existence Doesn’t Need to be Justified
Whether you like it or not, we exist in multitudes.
Repeat after me: diversity is not a four-letter word.
Despite current sociopolitical trends, we humans exist as anything but a cultural monolith. That fact should be celebrated, because the ways in which we differ–be it the color of our skin or our gender or who we love–further prove the improbable beauty that is human existence.
In fact, those who treat our differences as fuel for animosity are (among other things) weak and callous and cruel and cynical. They are the dregs of humanity, but for the time being, they are in charge (whatever that means).
Still, it’s worth remembering that we’re at our best when we’re celebrating and lifting others, not tearing them apart.
(If this post gets me put on some federal watchlist, then so be it.)
A Very Simple Reason
As a cisgendered white man, I’ve had the occasional reader ask if the diversity–racial and sexual–in my books is intentional. It is, but not in an effort to pat myself on the back or check off the proverbial box or two. I don’t sit back and think to myself, “Welp, I’ve got a trans character in this book; we’re good to go!”
No. My books feature diverse characters for one very simple reason:
These people exist.
Black people exist. Trans people exist. Asexual people exist. Every demographic determinant you can think of exists, and for that reason alone, they deserve to have their stories told. And those stories shouldn’t always center around their race or ethnicity or sexual identity.
(They can, but we’ll get to that later in the essay.)
Reading is shown to make a person more empathic, more likely to show compassion toward others even if you don’t completely understand their circumstances. Stories take us places we might never go on our own, give us experiences we likely wouldn’t have otherwise.
When we fall in love with a story, we’re likely falling in love with the characters more than the plot.
Celebrating diversity means showing both how our differences make us unique and how even with those differences, we’re more alike than it seems on the surface. Book banners today will argue it’s about protecting children against “explicit content,” but most of the books being banned are those that would open our eyes to different races, creeds, and genders.
A teenage boy falling in love with another boy is not pornography; it’s a sliver of the human condition, one that countless people, of all ages, want and likely need to see.
If for no other reason than to see they’re not alone.
In Front of *and* Behind the Camera
When we talk about diversity in fiction, we almost always talk about what’s “in front of the camera.” As in, the characters we see on our TVs, in our theaters, on the printed page, or on the stage.
Which is important. But it’s only half the story.
We need diversity “behind the camera” as well. We need our writers, producers, directors, and executives to be just as varied, just as diverse, as the characters. Because if your screen is full of Black and brown people of various genders and religions and sexual orientations, but your writer’s room is as white as a bed of lilies, what are you accomplishing?
This is not a knock on white writers. (Because, um, hello?)
It’s simply an acknowledgement that we are incapable of telling certain stories because we lack the life experiences of others. I can write Black characters, so long as their stories do not center around their blackness (case in point: Dr. Jack Corbett, the protagonist of Notna, is a Black man–a fact that comes up maybe two or three times throughout the course of the book).
Jack’s story doesn’t center around his race–in part because, as a white man, I’m not equipped to tell that kind of story. But his race is still important, because he represents the contemporary fantasy trope of The Chosen One that has, historically, been the home of white characters.
It’s not diversity for diversity’s sake. It’s not diversity to check off a box. It’s a simple acknowledgement that diversity exists, and all people deserve to have stories told about them the way white characters have enjoyed for ages.
Ultimately, if we’re going to be intentional about telling diverse stories, then the storytellers have to be as diverse as the cast. In fact, that diversity needs to extend all the way to those making the decisions at the top.
If you have a diverse cast and crew, but the studio executives are Adobe Stock’s version of wealthy white men, how do you think that’s gonna go?
In Your Face vs. Beneath the Surface
A common complaint among the diversity-allergic is that it’s constantly being shoved in their face. It’s everywhere they turn, like the creature lurking in the shadows of whatever gory horror movie is the hot thing of the moment.
They’re full of crap, but when you’ve been catered to your entire life, the mere existence of something different from you can feel like an existential threat.
But again, a reminder: these people exist.
There’s something to be said for subtlety, for letting the point sit just beneath the surface. To be mined by the reader as they embark on the journey that is your story. But sometimes… you just gotta be forthright about it. Metaphor has its time and place, but so does being blunt and direct.
It’s not about not trusting your audience to get the point otherwise. There’s value and beauty in standing up and shouting, “These people exist, and they have worth as human beings!”
Especially these days.
When authoritarian regimes take hold, one of the first things they go after is the arts. Stories, in particular, draw the ire of these people. Because stories inspire empathy, curiosity, and understanding–all concepts that are the antithesis of authoritarian rage and suspicion. It’s hard to make you hate other people if you’re emotionally inclined to support them.
Diversity is reality, but it’s also resistance.
It’s easy to feel powerless right now. But fact is, one of the best things you can do right now is read. Take in the sorts of stories they don’t want you to see.
Trigger the true snowflakes. Embrace diversity.