This hits a little bit too close to home

[dolorosa_12]

I've been avoiding Twitter for quite a while now, so I missed the latest instance of ghastly identity policing to have bubbled up on YA publishing Twitter, but the beats are as predictable as they are infuriating. As far as I can work out, a bunch of people decided to start calling out author Becky Albertalli for being straight, writing books about queer teenagers, and 'taking up slots' for the books of queer authors which might otherwise have been published. Albertalli, rightly upset by all this (for reasons which will soon become apparent), was thus forced into outing herself as bisexual not at a time of her own choosing, but in a way which was upsetting, and in the wake of harassment. (There seems to then have been a bit of subsequent goalpost-shifting by Albertalli's harassers, who, when they realised they now looked like awful people for bullying someone out of the closet before she was ready, started backpedalling and saying their issue with Albertalli's books had never been that their author was straight, but rather that they clearly weren't written by someone immersed in 'the queer community' — as if this were a monolith, and as if it were a universal requirement for a queer identity.)

I've been watching iterations of this play out in both transformative fandom and certain corners of professional publishing for at least a decade now, and I'm coming to the frustrated realisation that concepts such as ownvoices or writing certain tropes/pairings 'to cope [with trauma]' are reaching the limits of their usefulness. Ownvoices, which started out as a powerful tool to point out structural inequalities and ill-informed and harmful narrative choices and stereotypes, has become watered down at best into a marketing tool, as well as a shield publishers can wield to protect themselves from criticism. But at worst — and far more commonly, in my experience — it seems to be weaponised in instances of professional jealousy in the case of professional publishing, and personal jealousy in the case of fandom. The consequences can be awful: sourceland POC policing the experiences of those in the diaspora (and vice versa), people outed against their will, people feeling pressured to reveal mental illnesses and other invisible disabilities, people forced to make public past traumatic experiences to justify media they consume or stories they write, with the risk that these traumas are now known to their own harassers. I've been speaking in the general sense, but I have witnessed multiple concrete examples of every single one of the things I've described.

I really don't know what to suggest as a solution to this, because I believe it is right to point out structural inequalities in publishing (as it is in other fields), and I believe people are entitled to think critically about their own fannish, narrative, and tropey preferences. (I am slowly, however, coming around to the idea that outside of formal — by which I do not mean 'paid' — reviews and criticism, people need to take a step back from criticising or lamenting the fannish, narrative or tropey preferences of other people, or of fandom as a whole.) I certainly think we need to avoid falling into the trap of thinking of (marginalised) identities as monolithic, and we need to strive against linking purity, morality, experiences and identity from fannish, shipping, and narrative preferences. Of course certain stories and pairings and fandoms will resonate more than others — we are in fandom precisely because of these resonances — and sometimes that will be down to our own identities or experiences. I'm quite open about this when such things are true for me. But we don't owe those identities or experiences to anyone — we are entitled to choose how much of ourselves we make public, and no one is owed an explanation or justification for the fanworks we create, the professional fiction we publish, or the media both paid and fannish we engage with.

Comments

[minoanmiss]

(I surfed here on my Networks page, and I agree with almost all of your essay here, which... makes the one bit I don't stand out so much more desperately.)

I am slowly, however, coming around to the idea that outside of formal — by which I do not mean 'paid' — reviews and criticism, people need to take a step back from criticising or lamenting the fannish, narrative or tropey preferences of other people, or of fandom as a whole.

This is exactly the lesson I feared people would take from this debacle. I am appalled that OwnVoices, which was supposed to be about promoting marginalized creators, has turned into a reason for people to harass creators into revealing private corners of themselves. It's the pro-version of the fannish anti movement where people would demand of others that they reveal their "qualifying traumas" that gave them the "right" to write about certain topics.

But on the other hand, if we decide the answer is to give up on promoting marginalized authors in professional fic and to give up on discussing fandom trends in fandom, we will go back to what I saw in my early days in fandom where almost all the relationship-based fic was slash and almost all the slash was about two White guys because it was 'common knowledge' that no one was interested in anything else. Let alone the progress we've made on discussing religious diversity, disabled characters, and so on. I've been delighted in recent years to see characters of color seen as worthy subjects for slash and even het (defying the "strong Black woman who don't need no man" stereotype) and to not see people discourage others anymore from writing such stories. I don't want to give up that progress, but there must be a better way to continue achieving it than what the Own Voices movement and its fannish equivalents have metastasized into.

[dolorosa_12]

But on the other hand, if we decide the answer is to give up on promoting marginalized authors in professional fic and to give up on discussing fandom trends in fandom, we will go back to what I saw in my early days in fandom where almost all the relationship-based fic was slash and almost all the slash was about two White guys because it was 'common knowledge' that no one was interested in anything else.

I definitely, definitely, definitely do no want to go back to a time when this was the norm, and I'm really sorry if I worded things so poorly that I gave that impression. I guess where I'm frustrated is that when it comes to the loudest voices (particularly on platforms like Tumblr and Twitter), I don't see very much 'promoting marginalised authors,' and instead I see a lot of aiming Twitter mobs at individuals or weaponising ownvoices in an attempt to eliminate perceived competition.

I guess what I would prefer to see is a world in which people analysed and pointed out trends in more measured, long-form work — whether that is a review, Youtube video essay, meta post on Dreamwidth, or whatever — rather than calling out specific individuals (or individual fandoms, pairings etc and those who write them) on Twitter with the unstated (but obvious) aim of dropping the internet on that person's head. At the moment, the culture in both transformative fandom and professional publishing seems to be that the latter is acceptable as long as the target is perceived to deserve it in some way — as evidenced by the situation with Becky Albertalli, where her treatment only became a problem once she revealed she was queer. If she had been straight — or unprepared to out herself — this whole thing might have ended very differently.

I realise that what I've said in the above paragraph verges on the tone argument, and I don't know any way to express those sentiments without it sounding like that. I definitely don't want to stop people discussing these topics — if nothing else, the field has become richer, with better and more varied works of fiction being published, and I imagine transformative fandom has become open to an expanded range of possibilities as well (although I've been online in some shape or form since 2007, I wasn't really participating in the fanworks side of things much before 2014, so I can't speak to what it was like before then). I don't want that to stop — I want it to continue, and to be even better. But we've desperately got to find a way to do it that does not allow the notion of 'authenticity' to become weaponised. That leads to gatekeepers, abusiveness, identity policing, and so, so, so many people feeling like their own experiences of their marginalised identities have been dismissed and erased.

In my ideal world, people in fandom — whether that's transformative or as part of the community surrounding published genre fiction (or both, given how much overlap there is) — would expend the majority of their energy boosting the kind of stories, tropes, pairings and character dynamics they liked to see, and that had been written well, and very little time and mental/emotional energy dwelling on who has the 'right' to tell certain stories. That is absolutely not to say that I think people should refrain from pointing out structural inequalities or their dislike of harmful tropes and stereotypes. I just feel the former is wholly positive, while the latter has the potential for doing great harm, and should be approached with caution.

I don't know if that helps to clarify where I stand on these matters.

[minoanmiss]

I definitely, definitely, definitely do no want to go back to a time when this was the norm, and I'm really sorry if I worded things so poorly that I gave that impression.

Oh no, on the contrary -- I brought up this point because you quite accurately came off as someone who would be receptive to it. :)

And don't I hear you. I am so frustrated with the people who are, quite frankly, using good ideas as a pretext for bullying and for 'dropping the Internet on people's heads'. I have been thinking for a long time how to be the change in fandom I want to see, and a lot of my ideas are congruent with yours -- reccing works that do the things I approve of, promoting advice on how to make fandom and pro writing more diverse, and so on.


. But we've desperately got to find a way to do it that does not allow the notion of 'authenticity' to become weaponised. That leads to gatekeepers, abusiveness, identity policing, and so, so, so many people feeling like their own experiences of their marginalised identities have been dismissed and erased. I definitely agree. Or at least we (the nebulous 'we' of readers and fans and writers and such) have to figure out how to spread the idea that weaponizing authenticity is both cruel and counterproductive. I'm re-inspired to think about how to do that.

[lirazel]

I don't see very much 'promoting marginalised authors,' and instead I see a lot of aiming Twitter mobs at individuals or weaponising ownvoices in an attempt to eliminate perceived competition.

You're so right about this.

[dolorosa_12]

It's just such a miserable state of affairs.

[used_songs]

Honestly, I think it's less a tone argument and more a social-media-has-destroyed-our-ability-to-interact-thoughtfully-and-in-community argument. And I agree with you. If someone can get that boost of #K likes for saying something snarky, many people are going to take that bait. Half of us are out there performing for likes and the people who make the mistake of putting their authentic selves out there are going to get hurt.

I feel badly for authors who, it seems, are forced to perform in social media for their brands because they are in the vulnerable position of having to deal with a barrage of negativity. I wouldn't do it. Only the fact that I'm a nobody and I rarely show the chinks in my armor on any general-public-facing site makes me willing to enter the lists.

[dolorosa_12]

I feel badly for authors who, it seems, are forced to perform in social media for their brands because they are in the vulnerable position of having to deal with a barrage of negativity.

Interestingly, I've seen a number of authors step back from social media — specifically Twitter — in the past year or so, for precisely this reason. They've still kept Twitter accounts, but they're basically just newsletters blasting out information (such as publication dates, tour dates, etc). I suppose it is something of a backlash to the culture which has turned authors into their own marketing team, and forced them to perform their identities and traumatic experiences at top speed, in real time, with a character limit, in public.

That being said, most of the authors I've seen stepping back are already established, many of them are NYT bestsellers, and their future careers seem assured. If you're an aspiring author, voluntarily opting out of the Twitter circus is virtually impossible, because publishers want to see evidence of a following that can be translated into sales.

[evewithanapple]

Truth be told, the authors who get big in ownvoices spheres are mostly the ones who've cultivated it as their brand. They set themselves up as Authorities On Diversity, and it serves a twofold purpose of letting them attack rivals on specious grounds of "diversity" (look, this person's book is Hurting The Children! Get them!) and shielding them from any criticism themselves, because of course The Authority On Diversity couldn't mess up in their own books! Look at authors like Mark Oshiro, whose misogyny goes unchallenged because he makes such a big deal about other authors' perceived racism/homophobia, or Justina Ireland whose online bullying meant her treatment of Native American characters in her books was treated much more gently than anyone else's would. It's nice work, if you can get it.

[dolorosa_12]

I definitely agree with this, right down to the specific example of Mark Oshiro. From the sound of things, his book was massively ableist as well (with a disabled character who basically seemed to serve as someone who could be hurt so that the main character would be upset and motivated to do things). And his misogyny appears to extend beyond how he writes female characters in his own book(s), into his analysis of other writers' works as well — which is a big problem, given he owes his platform to the fact that he does reaction post-style reviews of books and TV shows.

I'm not familiar with the specific example of Justina Ireland, but I remember her gleefully joining in pile-ons of other authors (including non-American POC), so this doesn't surprise me.

The whole thing is so calculating, once you know what you're seeing. To an outsider or newcomer to the community, it looks like righteous pain and rage, when ninety per cent of the time it's an attempt to take out the competition. Publishers don't help matters, since they create an atmosphere in which every aspiring author feels the chance to be published is a zero sum game.

[evewithanapple]

Deb Reese wrote an overview of Dread Nation's issues with Native history here. It's not that I think Ireland deserves to be dragged on twitter, because I don't think anyone deserves that, but it does strike me as the kind of thing she wouldn't hesitate to inflict on someone else, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Mark Oshiro is the kind of person who deeply tests my capacity for compassion. Again, it's not that I think he deserves the full YA Twitter treatment, but the sheer level of active misogyny in his writing that's gone almost entirely without comment is mindboggling. And his next book is a lesbian romance! Wonder how that ties into the whole "only write ownvoices" discussion?

[dolorosa_12]

I've just read Deb Reese's post, and yikes.

I totally agree with you: it would be hypocritical of me to wish a Twitter pile on of these authors, but it is ... interesting who end up being the targets of these pile ons, and who seems to be immune to them, even if the representation in their books is demonstrable worse than that of the people they target.

Regarding Mark Oshiro and lack of criticism — he might not be getting it from within professional publishing/reviewing, but if you go to Goodreads, the 1-star reviews are highly critical.

[evewithanapple]

Oh, I know. God bless whoever wrote the "fucking magnets, how do they work?" review. But it does distress me that mainstream reviewers/YA community big names apparently lack critical thinking skills to such a degree that they see a book containing a tickybox list of marginalized identities and say "yes, this is representation!" instead of asking deeper questions about what the book is saying, how well the representation is actually done, whether a book with an Important Message can serve some identities well while failing others (I mean, I don't think the book serves any identities well, but that's another discussion, as is the fact that it's NOT EVEN OWNVOICES because Oshiro ISN'T BLACK SO WHY IS HE GETTING OWNVOICES CRED FOR WRITING ABOUT BLM) and how to handle the kind of toxic behaviour that is on display with the book's characters. Either that, or they think the behaviour is fine because it's done (ostensibly) for great justice, but that's just terribly sad.