The Danger with Own Voices

The Danger with OwnVoices

At DHR, we often emphasise our dedication to OwnVoices, seeking out work noted as OV or asking for contributions for particular months (like Pride, this month!) for OwnVoices non-fiction. But we are aware that OwnVoices isn’t always clear-cut, and sometimes even if a work isn’t OV, that doesn’t always mean the author doesn’t have a right to tell that story.

It’s a tricky, complex situation, and more and more the OV label has been used to attack, harass and belittle marginalised authors. For those not aware, Divination Hollow is run by two women who are part of the LGBT+ community, who have chronic health conditions, and who have lives and experiences that have been shaped by all of these facts. But up until a couple of years ago, I would not have classed myself as LGBT+ and did, in fact, see myself as an ally, not a member of the community.

Before we go into this a bit more, let me be clear – I have never said a group of people couldn’t write about another group of people, but that if they did, they should give great care and respect to doing so, and do their research. And maybe consider if they’re using a specific trauma to give that character a backstory. 

I would never write a story about a Black slave, or the Holocaust, or even about a young Indian woman who wants to play football. They are very much not my stories to tell, and why would I even try anyway, when there are Black, Jewish and Indian writers telling these stories much better than I ever could?

There is a difference in ‘OwnVoices’ when it comes to race, compared to LGBTQIA stories, or disability, or gender. But in all cases, OwnVoices has been used to justify telling marginalised creators they must write about that specific marginalisation and the negative impact this has. This has to stop. We cannot demand any author lay out their trauma for us to devour like vultures circling a dying lion. Because that is what it turns readers into, vultures interested only in reading stories that make them feel good, that make them feel “well, I would never act like that. I am a Good Person.”

We don’t know what each individual author brings to the table. And when it comes specifically to certain areas, we don’t know if a particular author happens to be LGBT+, unless they specifically state as such. We don’t know if an author has had first-hand experience of sexual assault, and we shouldn’t have to know. Some authors are comfortable – or more comfortable than others at least – of discussing their own real-life experiences. Some authors are more private and would rather not relive their trauma in order to justify their story.

This isn’t a coin – there are enough sides here to make a die. ‘OwnVoices’ can be a valuable tool when seeking non-fiction content, but it should never be used to gatekeep marginalized authors. Unfortunately, that seems to be the direction it has gone down. It is important to consider the story you want to tell, and ask the question ‘is this my story to tell?’ Every writer uses their own experiences when writing. Every writer brings an element of themselves to their characters. There is a huge issue with more privileged writers scrambling to tell specific stories about marginalized characters, and this is something that does need to be tackled, but we also have to be careful about characterising authors, sticking them in a box and making them feel they can’t explore their own identities, or aspects of identity, through their writing.

I am cis. I am cis, white woman. There are particular stories I feel I can tell, and as I said above, there are stories I am in no position to write. We all have our own stories to tell, so why are certain people so keen to take stories from others? When we tell our stories, we bring so much to them, giving them an emotional impact you wouldn’t get if you’re reading something which is obviously written by a person outside that community.

I wouldn’t write a coming-of-age story about a young Black teenage girl experiencing racism and having to code switch between school and home. Angie Thomas did it brilliantly in The Hate U Give, and Christina Hammons Reed deals with similar topics in a very different way in The Black Kids, just to shout out two that come immediately to my mind. What I can do, however, is tell a story of a young woman moving from one country to another, and the difficulties she faces in doing so, maybe the community she finds and the community who ostracises her, those who accept the parts of her that are ‘foreign’, and those who belittle and bully her. This is very, very different than tackling a topic like racism, but there are some small similarities that can be explored. I can write about living in a country that was, at one point, used as a colony, and I can explore the complexities of that while also being aware that my race means I’m also part of the colonizer. What I cannot do is specifically tackle that from, say, the viewpoint of an Indian character, or someone from the Caribbean. I can look at these issues through the lens of my own experiences, without talking over those who have experienced it through a different lens. 

Yes, I experienced some element of discrimination when I moved from Wales to North England for university. There are complexities when talking about Wales ‘as a colony’, when we’re living at a time when we have our own Parliament, yet England still have a stranglehold on us, when Welsh people were still part of the colonizers in other parts of the world, and many of the current issues in other parts of the world are due to the British (not just the English) colonizing other countries.

This is Pride Month, however, and I feel it’s important to also discuss an element of OwnVoices that has forced writers to disclose parts of themselves they may not have been comfortable disclosing or weren’t ready to discuss. And yes, we have to stop policing Own and Diverse so rigidly. Becky Albertalli’s books were never promoted as OwnVoices. Yet people jumped on her, holding her up as a reason why ‘cis women shouldn’t write MLM stories.’ Yet Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was a huge book, embraced by the YA audience, and other marginalized authors have spoken out about how Albertalli used her position to help other voices be heard. She acted as an ally, as a good ally, but with Leah on the Offbeat Albertalli was criticized for writing a bisexual main character.

This was raised repeatedly, and often, until Albertalli was forced into a position where she had to lay out her journey for people to devour and judge and finally realise yes, these novels were a way of exploring her own identity. Albertalli also left social media. When reading her story, it struck me how similar it was to my own.

Ever since I was a teenage, elements of WLW have always entered my work. I never really questioned it, until a few years ago. Until I sat back and considered, why do I so often write either characters who fall in love with women, or unhappy ‘het’ relationships? This time, I didn’t push it away, and a various combination of factors led me to realise I had been ignoring a big part of myself for a long, long time.

My early twenties may, in another timeline, have been a point when I did realise and discover this part, and explore it, but my early and mid-twenties were not a good time, my mental health deteriorated, and I didn’t have the space to really, truly focus on myself.

At a point when I felt, in general, more safe, comfortable, and happy, I realised. I am bisexual. All these feelings, over the years, these moments I’d pushed aside – I wasn’t just admiring women. I was attracted to them, and that switch in my brain resulted in me having a discussion with my boyfriend, who sat and listened and provided me with the space to express something I’d hidden for too long.

Albertalli’s story resonated with me deeply. She believed herself to be an ally, and I did too, and as such, I stepped back from writing WLW. In drafts I am hoping to return to one day, the stories usually end with the MC shunning her male love interest. Then I went back and worked on a very old project, and changed it, and realised as I was writing, I wasn’t interested in romance between the MC and the male ‘hero’ I’d penned years before. They were a good source of tension and conflict, but both my MC and I started looking at a different character, another woman, and a spark went off in my brain.

I feel more comfortable, now, in my own skin. I write characters as they come to me, usually bisexual women. And sometimes the love interest is a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes there is no love interest. However, if I had been asked when Nina and the Raging Hormone Buffet was published in an anthology, I would have said I was straight. I wasn’t, I never have been, but sometimes it does take a while for us to realise fully who we are. 

I think sometimes we all rush to voice our opinions, to call people out, but often people shout over the groups actually effected, and ignore those who say “but I connected with this.” It happens in OwnVoices, and it happens when we’re maybe trying to do the right thing but close ourselves off to actually listening. Yes, we should all strive to diversify our bookshelves, we all need to work towards creating an inclusive landscape, where everyone has a seat at the table. But we also need to be mindful of exactly who we are criticizing when we ‘call’ someone out. 

It’s very possible for a woman to write something misogynistic. Just because someone is LGBTQIA doesn’t mean what they write is going to be perfect, especially if they’re writing about different experiences from their own. My sexuality and gender don’t mean I won’t ever unintentionally write something harmful – we internalise stuff, we absorb the messages from the culture we grow up in, and it’s not always easy to shake that off. My own perceptions of womanhood, what that means to me, what it means to others, have changed over the years, for the better. I am constantly learning and growing.

And reviewers and readers need to be able to call out that harmful shit, whoever writes it. If books I’d queried in the past actually been published, I would likely be cringing now with all I have learnt in the years since. I am constantly learning, and if I do write something harmful, I hope someone calls me out.

We need space to say, “this is harmful”. We need to acknowledge that OwnVoices shouldn’t be a shield against criticism, but we also need to be mindful of the person behind the story. Consider if what you’re reading actually is harmful, no matter who writes it. As writers, we should strive to be considerate and respectful, and acknowledge some stories just aren’t ours to tell. And if we do write a character unlike ourselves, do the research, hire sensitivity readers, use trigger warnings. 

But if your kneejerk reaction is that this person presents as someone who is straight or cis, if you assume they are not part of the LGBTQIA community, so therefore they cannot write a character who is part of the community, don’t make the assumption. Judge the writing and the contents, by all means. But don’t judge marginalised and diverse authors for not writing about their own traumatic experience or mining their trauma for your entertainment, and don’t assume that just because you haven’t personally experienced the situation in the way they’ve written about it, means it’s not valid.

We can all do better. We can all be better. We have to ensure writing remains a way for people to explore themselves and the world around them, without causing active harm to others. It’s difficult and complicated and deserves more words than I can probably fit in here, but it’s something to strive for.

If you are looking to further educate yourself on these topics, https://writingtheother.com/ contains excellent resources and features webinars that are definitely worth your time.

By Elle Turpitt
Twitter: @ElleTurpitt
Website: www.ElleTurpitt.com