A lot of conversations have been had lately about writerly responsibility to accurately represent in their books cultural experiences they have not had.

There are a lot of things that…discomfit me about this conversation. Like the fact that apparently some writers need to be told this is a thing? When let’s be clear: we have always been a hundred percent responsible for not writing racist bullshit. (Unless, of course, that was our goal. Presumably I’m not talking to anyone here for whom “inciting race war” is a goal for fiction.)

Also: I’m all for people writing characters who are not like themselves. Absolutely. But I hope this whole “help white people write characters of color better” movement doesn’t in some way subsume what to my mind is a much more valuable use of our time: publishing and promoting more books about characters of color written by people of color. For fuck’s sake.

The thing I find most unnerving about “increase the diversity of early readers and your problem’s solved” is that early readers can only offer opinions. Advice. Feedback. And they can only offer that from their perspective. The writer’s still on the hook for incorporating all that into their understanding of their characters.

In other words: I don’t care that you got a sensitivity reader to read your book, White Author: you are still a hundred percent responsible for what you’ve written.

I worry–and perhaps I have an unduly low expectation of human behavior–but I worry that next up we’ll hear “My book can’t be racist! I had a black early reader and they loved it!” or “The seder I wrote was great! My Jewish friend read it and said it was perfect!”

I don’t want to hear that shit in public from ANYONE. EVER.

If someone tells you you’ve written something that’s culturally insensitive, the first fucking thing you do is shut your goddamn mouth. Shut it. We had a thing, in writing workshops, and I don’t remember what the image was, but the idea was that the person whose work was being critiqued wasn’t allowed to talk. They had to just sit there and take it in.

There should be more of that in writing world. And way, way more of that in the land of white people defending themselves against accusations that they might not always be in the right.

It’s shocking, white people. I know. I, too, am white. I understand what it feels like to be raised with the idea that your default position is “in the right”.

For a little help, I thought I’d pull up Mr Jay Smooth, who addresses some of this stuff in his “How To Tell Someone They Sound Racist” video. (Then…go watch all the rest of his videos. “The List of Rules for Women” is pretty rad. Also “An Old Person’s Guide to ‘No Homo'”.)

The other part of my problem–and let me be clear, I don’t have a problem with adding many hundreds and thousands of new early readers of wildly diverse backgrounds. That’s wonderful. That’s necessary. Dare I say, that shit should have been obvious without any big “popular author wrote a racist scene” event.

So part of my problem is the danger that folks from

[different cultural background of their character] will abdicate responsibility to [early reader of same cultural background of the character], and consider one reader’s neutral or positive feedback a universal stamp of approval.

The other part of my problem is this: there is no one experience. No one person has authenticity to deem your book “not racist”. (Or, for that matter, “not homophobic” or “not misogynist”. I add those last two because lo, the many books written by queers and women that struck me as casually homophobic and misogynist.)

I’m a little concerned that people will think this is my way of saying So don’t even bother! Write the story of your heart! Do your best! A for effort! If you’re not a racist, write whatever you want, and fuck the haters who call you out for your privilege and whitewashing!


What I’m saying is: One reader isn’t enough. LOTS OF READERS. GET LOTS OF READERS.

This is on my mind today because I’m revising a book with a trans main character. I can be considered to have a certain amount of authority on this topic. According to the current climate, I am not required to have any sensitivity readers spin through this book. I’m enough.

Except I’m not. Of course I’m not.

Months ago, before the book was written, I asked my pal Gray to read it. Despite the fact that I’d read it, and another trans reader had read it, and it’s not doing anything controversial in trans space… More readers are always better.

And you know what? Gray picked out a dozen things that I didn’t see. Areas of clarifying language. Areas of clarifying what the MC meant when he referred to certain things that the other queer and trans readers did not catch.

If I hadn’t asked Gray to read, if he hadn’t been generous with his feedback, I would still be one hundred percent responsible for any misunderstandings arising from my book. Despite the fact that I can be said to have authority on the subject matter. Despite the fact that I had one trans reader who was not me read it and offer feedback before Gray.

A hundred percent. As writers, we are a hundred percent responsible. Say you changed some shit because a publisher told you to. I hear that. Tough position. You are a hundred percent responsible for your words. Say you changed some shit because readers pressured you. You are a hundred percent responsible for your words. Say you changed some shit because you kept getting feedback from agents that told you you’d never be published if you didn’t change that shit. Guess what? You are still one hundred percent responsible for your words.

Full stop.

Featured image is “My Trusty Gavel” by Brian Turner on Flickr, used under Creative Commons license 2.0.