[personal] Fear, self-censorship, and facing into it

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This is a difficult post. When I found myself afraid to make it this morning, I realized I had to do so. My response to fear, once I get past whatever initial panic might be involved, is to step towards whatever scares me.

The so-called “Race Fail” last year was very troublesome for me. I found myself being vilified by total strangers based on other people’s interpretations of a few words of mine in a blog post. I found myself being held up as an example of ignorant, arrogant white privilege. I found a lot of things being said about me that were flatly untrue, grossly misinterpreted, or simply assumptions based on my skin color and gender as portrayed in my blog’s icons — in that last case, flatly stated as such.

I was told during the course of “Race Fail” that growing up in nonwhite countries (primarily Taiwan and Nigeria, for reference) did not give me any perspective on race. In other words, my white-ness trumps any possibility that my life experience might influence my development or perceptions.

I was told during the course of “Race Fail” that parenting a non-white daughter ( is adopted from China) did not give me any perspective on race. In other words, my white-ness trumps any possibility that my child’s life experience might influence my development or perceptions.

Since then, I’ve self-censored almost completely on issues of race and gender here on my blog. Not in my fiction — go read Green if you want to see me talking about those subjects — but here in my daily musings about life, fiction, politics, cancer, parenting and whatnot. It simply hasn’t been worth the trouble of defending myself every time I open my mouth, of having to laboriously re-establish my credentials and standing to even express an opinion on race or gender.

Am I complaining about being a white man? No. I am keenly aware of my privilege in society, even in the smallest ways. If I step up to a mobbed deli counter without a line numbering system, I’m often the next one called, ahead of people waiting far longer than I. I always defer to the people around me, precisely because I am aware. My paycheck every two weeks reminds me of my privilege. My occasional conversations with law enforcement remind me of my privilege. My nice house in the suburbs, my spiffy convertible, my pile of tech gear, my current standard of medical care in the face of recurring cancer — they are all privilege.

Ironically, one of the few places where white privilege isn’t overwhelmingly woven into the baseline of society is fiction. I say this as someone who’s edited numerous open anthologies, and submitted to something like a hundred markets. Manuscripts don’t have gender or race. As an editor, I stopped looking at by-lines years ago, given how many people write psuedonymously. And speaking as someone who often writes characters who are not what I am (white, middle-aged, male, Anglo-Saxon), I long ago stopped assuming anything about the author’s identity from their characters or settings.

All of which is to say, a commentor questioned why I’d linked to a recent review of Mainspring that took me to task through the lens of white privilege. My answer, likewise in comments, I have decided to repost here, because I think it’s important.

I firmly believe the story belongs to the reader. Whether that reader is fan, a reviewer, or some random gal from Dubuque.

I also firmly believe the writer is not the story.

I also know that I am neither a racist nor a sexist, unless the reader subscribes to the theory that all white men are racists and sexists. In which case there’s not much I can do about that reader’s perception, since they’re already prejudiced against me and anything I might have to say.

Finally, there’s absolutely no point in arguing with reviewers, with the very narrow potential exception of errors-of-fact. Arguing with perceptions is futile. The words really do need to speak for themselves, even if the reader is hearing things I didn’t put in them.

As far my personal place in this, anybody that’s read more than a few words of my fiction or my commentary would know pretty damn well where I stand on issues of race, culture and gender as a strong liberal-progressive. If they haven’t, then they’re judging me based on their own misperceptions, and that’s too bad for them.

I should have said two things differently. “Even if the reader is hearing things I didn’t put in them” should not have been an “if” statement. By definition, readers find things I didn’t put in the text. That’s them bringing their own experience to the work. Writing is only half the job of telling a story, after all. Reading is the other half.

The other thing I should have said differently is to note that of course I am racist and sexist. I am a human being. We all distrust the other. It’s hardwired into us. My responsibility as a human being, as a parent, a writer, a citizen, is to manage those impulses in such a way as to overcome them. Yes, I’m racist and sexist, every bit as much as someone who judges my words or dismisses my opinions because I am a white male is racist and sexist. As a white male at the top of the power curve, I bear additional responsibility for overcoming those tendencies.

That last is something I’ve been keenly aware of since about the age of 19, and worked diligently on all my life. Which you’d never know from looking at my face or my name, would you? You’d only know by listening to me, or reading my words.

So here’s me, facing my fear of speaking up, and trying to end my self-censorship. Because I find the self-imposed censorship has only stoked my resentments, and that’s less healthy than shutting up. Much less healthy.

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5 thoughts on “[personal] Fear, self-censorship, and facing into it”

  1. Olivia Magdelene says:
    April 5, 2010 at 5:32 am

    I am a mother of bi-racial children. I’ve been taken to task numerous times on issues of race and gender, which has led me to stop talking about it also. Even writing a post about it now gives me pause and a touch of nervousness. So you’ve gone here where I’ve often had trouble going and finding kinship in the words. I appreciate your honesty. Perhaps it will give me the boost I need to be more honest also.

    Respectfully,
    Olivia

    1. Jay says:
      April 5, 2010 at 5:37 am

      Thank you.

  2. Matthew Dyer says:
    April 5, 2010 at 7:18 am

    Dealing with white male privilege is something I struggle with all the time. There isn’t really a stand-out example of a liberal progressive white male role model. Growing up, it was difficult to position myself in a way that recognized the exact kinds of subtle privilege that Jay points out (as well as the overt ones that are even more disturbing) while still trying to become an assertive and positive presence in the world.

    In the end, I think it means that the best we can do is be aware of the privilege that we have. An individual, of any kind, only suffers by silencing their voice. It’s one thing to be fair and to take your turn at the deli counter (maybe you even occasionally let someone else go ahead of you when it is your turn, just to be polite), but it’s quite another to not show up to the deli counter at all.

    White dudes need our thinly sliced meats and cheeses, too. We can’t just not shop at the deli counter anymore because centuries of white patriarchal hegemony meant that we got to cut to the front of the line. Do we have a responsibility to help change things? Absolutely.

    But when it comes to race and gender, losing a voice, no matter it’s race or gender, doesn’t help anyone. It just makes the world a quieter and less vital place.

    (Wow, I really lost my grip on that deli metaphor. But I think it at least points in the right direction.

  3. Jaws says:
    April 5, 2010 at 7:30 am

    Keep in mind, too, that “race” is a social construct, not a biological one.

    On one hand, not everyone who has pale skin is of the Caucasian persuasian… or at least not entirely. That is, not all “mixed race” ancestry shows up visibly; I’ve been excluded from a south-of-that-old-Mason-Dixon-line country club on the basis of my ancestry, despite my lack of visible Ashkenazim traits… (And if you don’t think “Ashkenazim” is racial, just ask anyone at that country club in Virginia — even for non-practicing persons who weren’t even raised in that tradition.)

    On the other hand, it will be extremely interesting to ask The Child to state her own racial identity when she’s sixteen or so, and watch the struggle and hesitation, particularly if it’s done once in a roomful of Caucasians, once alone, and once in a roomful filled with Koreans, Japanese, and Vietnamese (but no “pure” Chinese). Or — more to the point these days — try a similar exercise with a sixteen-year-old Persian-American girl (yes, that choice of identifier was on purpose, too).

  4. Mike Brotherton says:
    April 5, 2010 at 4:17 pm

    I’m glad you made this post, Jay. It’s something I’ve experienced, too, and a reason why I detest aspects of the far left that I otherwise identify with. There are prejudiced idiots mixed in there, just as there are on the far right. And they abuse the word “privilege” in much the same way that “rape” gets abused. I don’t accept or use the word “privilege” because of that abuse and the way it gets turned into an unfair dismissal of the white male. I don’t think of myself of privileged so much as other people being fucked over for no good reason — it’s a matter of shifting the zero point, and just because it helps some people see something from a different perspective doesn’t make it a universally great and abuse-free term for everyone under all circumstances.

    You, Jay, and others, were treated very badly by some people who are not very fair or wise, and it should be ok to call them out on that whether you’re a minority or not. And it is. Called out. If they disagree, that’s fine, that’s their opinion and I’ll keep mine. There are assholes of every type, and one shouldn’t worry too much about offending them, because you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and you might as well be damned for having your own opinion and speaking it.

    As an atheist scientist, I certainly have my issues with the religious majority, but I don’t dismiss a person’s opinion about scientific issues just because they’re religious. And I don’t boycott them for it. Probably everyone fits some kind of minority experiencing some sort of general prejudice some of the time. Hell, here, it’s probably just being seen as weirdos who like science fiction and putting up with the sea of put downs from the mainstream world. If you’re prone to wear sf t-shirts and the like, it can be as apparent as skin color that you’re a dork, nerd, or geek and get treated differently for it. Not all prejudices are the same, but we’ve all experienced one or another and can hope to find some commonalities to build understanding.

    Anyway, just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to speak out, Jay. I think it’s ironic and sad that people who complain about their voices being ignored and silenced have managed to silence others. They should think about that, if they can. These are complex issues, and people on all sides have their own biases, and it is unlikely that there is one correct viewpoint or one correct solution. Dismissing anyone who is serious and wants to discuss it is a bad thing.

    It’s like in writing workshops. It works so much better to critique the words spoken or written rather than the person making them.

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