A Decision-Making Framework

Maryka Biaggio & Vanitha Sankaran | April 2023

Maryka Biaggio, Vanitha Sankaran

The writing commu­nity has been abuzz the last few years about cultural ap­propriation, and that discussion has natu­rally influenced and created questions for writers, agents, and publishers. At the June 2021 Historical Novel Society North America Conference, the topic permeated many presentations. For example, during a panel on the State of Traditional Publishing, agents and edi­tors were asked about how to represent diverse peoples accurately in their eras and settings without cultural appropri­ation and, moreover, what they expect to see in novels that focus on the ex­periences of underrepresented groups. The advice they offered to mainstream authors was: Ask yourself if this is your story to write. This refrain dominated much of the discussion on this topic at the conference. But this advice begs the question: How does one decide whether to write about persons from underrep­resented groups with authenticity and integrity, particularly if one is not from the group in question?

There is no question that the pub­lishing industry has been dominated by privileged persons and, thus, overshad­owed the views of underrepresented groups. The time to remedy that is over­due, and there are signs that publish­ers are calling for more varied voices, both in terms of what they’re accept­ing for publication and who they’re employing to make those decisions. Agents, editors, and other stakeholders have appointed Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion directors, started hashtag campaigns, and changed hiring and representation priorities to facilitate the sharing of underrepresented voices, with varying degrees of success.

Still, the question of whether to write about people from different ethnicities/races, sexual orientations/gender iden­tities, and abilities in the first place is complicated and nuanced and deserves careful analysis. For example, in my (Maryka Biaggio’s) previous career as a clinical psychologist and professor of psychology, I witnessed a similar ques­tioning about who was qualified to offer clinical services to persons of color, gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender/queer/intersex/asexual+ (GLBTQIA+) indi­viduals, differently-abled persons, and other underrepresented persons. As a result, the profession went through a period of soul-searching (which is still underway), and the publishing industry is also now in the throes of a similar discussion.

In fact, the entire country and a good part of the Western world are working through how to be more inclusive—and for varied reasons. In medical communications (Vanitha Sankaran’s field), the need for inclusion is driven by unmet medical needs—different ethnic, gendered, and neurodivergent persons have specific health needs that are either not available, inaccessible, or not articulated well to the patients who most need them. An individual hospital may invest in a campaign to reach new patients; a pharmaceutical company may be motivated by increased profits; a particular doctor may be inspired to provide her patients with the best possible experience. Such efforts are becoming more common, but this, too, is a work in progress.

All these motivations in both authors’ experiences are, understand­ably, also relevant to the publishing industry. Every stakeholder in every book published should be attempting to reach the largest possible audience, make that book profitable, and ensure the reader has the best experience read­ing that book. Getting to that point starts with content creation. 

This article provides one approach by articulating guidelines for authors who are considering including characters who are different from themselves with respect to sexual orientation/gender identity and race/ethnicity. Specifically, we’d like to explore this question: How can one decide if one is qualified to write about persons of different sexual orientations/gender identities and eth­nicities/races?

Qualifications and Definition of Terms

First, I (MB) must explain that I am a white woman who has benefited from my privilege. I’ve been able to pursue a successful career as a professor and now as a novelist. I’ve never experienced the kind of discrimination that permeates the lives of persons of color. I am also a lesbian, and I have personally encoun­tered invalidation and threats of vio­lence because of that identity. Still, my sexual orientation is largely invisible (unless I choose to make it visible), and I’ve been able to “pass” as a heterosexu­al woman on many occasions.

I (VS) am a Hindu Indian American (as distinguished from the wholly dif­ferent American Indian peoples) and speak from the privilege of advanced education, strong family support, and a stable middle-class upbringing. Despite these advantages, I have also experi­enced countless microaggressions and threats stemming from my heritage and mixed-ethnicity marriage. There is no hiding my “brownness,” but there are also levels of racism even within the Indian community that complicate this matter. Every subculture has nuances that must be understood in order to be authentically represented.

Second, this is an incredibly complex issue, and no one article or author can cover this complicated issue, which must, to do it justice, include anal­yses of power and intersectionality. For instance, Veronique Manfredini interviewed Carla Heath in her fine 2021 article “How to Write LGBTQIA+ Characters: Marginalized Identities.” She notes that “it’s important to acknowledge that a more privileged queer person is going to have more access to resources than one who experi­ences additional marginalizations. And people with various intersecting mar­ginalized identities (such as disability, race, and religious minority status) will likely experience more oppression and reduced access to resources. Sadly, with­in the queer community, racism, sex­ism, transphobia, and ableism do exist.” 

Another critical complexity is how we define diversity. For example, although there has been much support recently rallying around BIPOC communities, the term BIPOC is reductive. It mini­mizes the glorious variety in the expe­riences of Black, East Indian, Asians, Hispanic, Latino, First Nations people, and more, reducing that diversity into a single monolithic group. As Constance Grady explains in her 2020 Vox article, The term “people of color” was self-cre­ated to create a coalition between non-white minorities to introduce the idea of people having color rather than being identified simply because of their color. However, the phrase has since lost its political power, notably because it is overly simplistic. In the Vox article, Deandre Miles-Hercules, a PhD linguis­tics student focused on sociocultural, linguistic research on race, gender, and sexuality, explains, “In my own work as a linguist, and from my own perspec­tive as a linguist, I see this [term] as an erasure, which I consider a linguistic violence.”

Some additional definitions are need­ed to help us conceptualize the levels of difficulty and complexity that arise when exploring whether to write about persons different from oneself:

Individual diversity. Some aspects of diversity are more attached to the indi­vidual person than to a community, for instance, sexual orientation, gender identity, and ability status. This doesn’t mean there aren’t communities associ­ated with GLBTQIA+ persons or differ­ently-abled groups by any means, but these facets of diversity don’t originate from a cultural group.

Cultural diversity. People of diverse and disenfranchised races/ethnicities tend to grow up in families and commu­nities, that is, cultures that are identi­fied with their race/ethnicity, and these identifications are typically a central part of the individual’s world. Often, there is a “family persona” and an “out­side world persona” these people expe­rience. Also, writers outside of these subcultures often portray a person of a certain ethnicity, sexuality, ability, or neuroclassification from the experience of what they see, that is, the outside world persona, when in fact, the rich­ness of that person’s actual life is wholly different.

We referred earlier to the advice that writers themselves ask if this is their story to tell. And we believe that when the main character is a person quite dif­ferent from oneself that it is imperative to consider this question. Except in the case of memoir, writers are likely often portraying main characters who are dif­ferent from themselves—whether that be by virtue of age, gender, ethnicity, race, or any number of other variables. This is true across genres—how many of us are aliens (sci-fi), Victorian (his­torical), Regency (romance), or a hard­boiled detective (crime)? As writers, we have previously used the argument that we are writing fiction to justify some of our storytelling decisions. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is the con­cept of authenticity—how an Indian lesbian detective on the spectrum approaches a case will be vastly different from what a white, heterosexual neuro­typical male detective will experience. We’ve had many stories from the latter’s perspective, and we daresay none of the former. 

We should be honest about the fact that some of these variables are more consequential than others. For instance, I (MB) am over seventy years old, and my most recently published novel tells the story of a child prodigy writer. I begin with my character as a four-year-old and end with her as a twenty-five-year-old. I would argue that this age difference is not an insur­mountable one—after all, I was once a young person, I have nieces and neph­ews I’ve watched grow up, and I can talk to and read about young people. That is, age differences are relatively easy to surmount. 

But other variables are, in our opin­ion, more difficult to navigate, and we believe sexual orientation, gender iden­tity, race, ethnicity, neuroclassification, and disability are among these (though this list is not exhaustive). As a culture, we have silenced and discriminated against people from different cultures and people that are differently-abled to such an extent that their voices are simply not very accessible to white, able-bodied persons. Yet, despite our many differences, there is a common­ality among all people that makes us accessible to each other. A medical arti­cle in Nature discussed this “commonal­ity despite exceptional diversity”; while the authors were discussing the remark­able ability of all humans to create a vast antibody response based on our extensive natural antibody profile as homo sapiens, the phrase is remarkably applicable to our fictive explorations of the human experience.

Navigating the commonality among us, despite our exceptional diversity, is not an easy endeavor, though it remains a worthwhile goal. Thus, we believe it behooves mainstream authors to tread cautiously if they wish to write about main characters of different sex­ual orientations/gender identities, eth­nicity/race, or ability statuses. If they have included these characters in their stories, they should expect to be inter­rogated about their reasons for doing so and their efforts to portray these individuals honestly and accurately. As Bruff and Blount put it in their 2021 presentation on “Writing Outside Your Experience,” writers must take respon­sibility for their representation of peo­ple different from themselves. Jarred McGinnis puts it even more pointedly: “You don’t have to be disabled to write about disability, but you’d better get it right.”

This brings us to the unanswered question of how to determine if it is appropriate to write about people who are very different from us—and how to do so with sensitivity and accuracy. We propose a decision-making framework for mainstream persons to consider in writing about people of diverse sexual orientation/gender and racial/ethnic identities. Such authors should exam­ine:

Their motivation for doing so;

Their degree of differentness from the character(s); and

Their strategies for accurately and sensitively portraying different character(s).

 

A Framework For Decision-Making

1. Examine Your Motivation for Including People of Different Sexual Orientations/Gender Identities or Ethnicities/Races. 

Writers deciding whether to include persons different from themselves should begin by examining their motives for doing so. Is this a story that they feel called to write? Why do they believe they are qualified to write this story? Are they well situated to tell this story? Ideally, writers should be able to answer these questions affirmatively, especially if they are white and het­erosexual and the main character is of a different sexual orientation/gender identity or ethnicity/race. 

This gives rise to the question: Is the converse true, that is, can a GLBTQIA+ person write accurately and sensitively about a main character who is hetero­sexual? Or can an African American writer do justice to white characters? We contend that disenfranchised per­sons are generally better acquainted with majority groups than vice versa. GLBTQIA+ individuals must navigate mainstream society, and this requires them to be familiar with heterosex­ual persons and relationship norms. Similarly, non-white persons are often employed in settings where they are in the minority, and they must thus know the expectations and norms of these settings. So, the chances for misunderstanding are not as high for disenfranchised persons writing about mainstream characters as they are for mainstream persons writing about disenfranchised individuals. For instance, I (VS) write about medieval and Renaissance European peoples where East Indian influences were rare, if present at all. I would argue that my heritage as an American in a majority white Judeo-Christian society has allowed me to understand European culture better than the aver­age European would understand my Hindu culture.

Of course, all sorts of characters are found in the great variety of sto­ries authors tell. Some characters are more central and require more careful and deeper understanding and representation, while others are more peripheral. So, the bar is not as high for understanding the nuances and depths of characters who are not central, although care should be taken to avoid tokenism or stereotyping in depicting these persons.

Writers who wish to accurately portray specific settings, times, and places will naturally want to include people who lend authenticity to their portrayals. For example, it would be unrealistic to write about life in 1850s Alabama and ignore the presence of slaves and slaveholders. Sometimes writers should ask themselves why they wouldn’t include persons different from themselves, especially if the time or setting calls for it. That is, excluding underrepresented persons might be tan­tamount to rendering them invisible in settings in which they might be endem­ic, thus compounding their erasure. Fear of cultural appropriation should not be an impediment to realistically portraying the diversity of characters populating the settings or time periods writers depict. At the same time, when including underrepresented people writers should also be sensitive to the question of whether they can write with empathy and authenticity about these people. If they cannot but still wish to proceed, they must reach out to relevant experts, either as mentors or as co-writers, to ensure the integrity of their work.

To summarize, writers should be hon­est with themselves and others about their reasons for including characters of different individual and culture diver­sities. These reasons should include a desire and willingness to portray these characters accurately and sensitively.

2. Assess Your Degree of Differentness and Familiarity with Proposed Characters. 

Persons of diverse sexual orienta­tions/genders, ethnic/racial groups, and other dimensions of individual and cultural diversity can differ from one­self on many dimensions, including the personal/psychological, familial, and societal/historical.

The Personal/Psychological. The “psy­chology” of disenfranchised persons is different from that of mainstream persons. Many GLBTQIA+ individuals have been shamed or even rejected by others because of their sexual ori­entation/gender identity and thus struggle with a sense of shame and a lack of belonging. A common source of conflict for gay or lesbian persons is religious beliefs that condemn homosexual conduct. Furthermore, many African American persons expe­rience fear when dealing with police. In recent years Asian Americans have experienced random attacks that create a sense of vulnerability. 

Mainstream persons must thus inves­tigate the different “psychologies” and life experiences of disenfranchised persons if they are to write about them accurately and sensitively. The more dif­ferent writers are from their character(s), the greater the difficulty, as well as the burden of attaining insight, will be.

The Familial. GLBTQIA+ characters typically grow up in traditional house­holds and may need to hide their identi­ties from family members. Families can thus be a source of stress or support, and writers need to understand how family dynamics affect individuals. Families tend to instill life values, and this sets the stage for the individual’s sense of identity and belonging. So, it behooves writers to grapple with the family sys­tems of their characters. They should ask: What kind of values were instilled in these characters by their extended family? To what extent have GLBTQIA+ persons had to be secretive about their sexual orientation or gender identity? Do they have understanding siblings? For persons from non-white cultures, are their families a source of pride in their cultural/ethnic heritage?

In terms of degrees of differentness, it is generally more difficult for an individual who has not grown up in the cultural group to understand the experiences of persons in these cultural groups. However, a non-white person or a close friend or partner of someone from a different culture may be able to grasp the influence of cultural impacts. For example, I (VS) often feel a certain kinship with Asian, Black, and Hispanic peoples both because of certain shared values but also because of the shared experience of being “other.” On the other hand, there may be more com­monalities of experience for persons with individual diversities. For instance, siblings of a gay or lesbian individual may have a reasonably good under­standing of the family environment of their gay or lesbian sibling.

What are the practical implications of the above? A heterosexual, cisgender individual who grew up with a gay or lesbian sibling may have a fair amount of understanding of the familial con­text, especially if they were a confidante of that sibling. If not, then it behooves the individual to consider the myriad ways a GLBTQIA+ person’s experiences differ from their own. But white persons are unlikely to have much or any famil­iarity with the experiences of people of color, including their family systems, unless they have experienced those systems through a direct connection. A non-Hindu writer might not think their Indian character would be racist, or at the least race-cautious. In contrast, someone who understands sub-cultures within Indian society would know that fair skin is vastly preferred to dark skin, and that even as non-Indians may complain about the smells of curry and potent spices (a common stereotype), so too many Indians disdain the reek of fish prominent in much of Asian cook­ing (another common stereotype).

Again, the more different the family systems of the characters mainstream writers portray, the more difficult it will be for these writers to understand the family dynamics that shaped their char­acters’ values. 

The Societal/Historical. Societal atti­tudes toward disenfranchised persons generally significantly impact disen­franchised persons’ rights and exposure to prejudice and discrimination. The social/political climate for GLBTQIA+ persons has undergone swift change, with marriage equality only becoming the law of the land in the United States in 2015. Although progress has been made with respect to civil rights for per­sons of color, deeply embedded institu­tional racism still affects many aspects of their day-to-day lives. 

Writers should thus ask many ques­tions about the social/historical context of characters from disenfranchised groups: What is the cultural/historical context of your proposed character(s)? For example, is the period they’re living in pre- or post-Stonewall riots or before or after the Civil Rights Act of 1964? What identifiers or labels are employed in the individual’s cultural milieu, and what impact are these labels likely to have on the individual?

The social and political context tends to greatly impact the lives of disen­franchised persons, and mainstream individuals who understand this will be better prepared to write about these characters. Thus, for example, a hetero­sexual man who volunteered to work with gay acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) patients may have some degree of familiarity with gay men with AIDS. Likewise, a politically active heterosexual woman who championed marriage equality may have a good grasp of the prejudice faced by same-sex persons who were previously unable to marry.

Along the lines of race and culture, two characters from disenfranchised backgrounds may understand the commonality of oppression. Still, how they deal with that understanding, the people they talk to, the support system they have will likely be entirely different. Similarly, a writer should not assume that one BIPOC character will immediately understand another. A Latino who marries a South Asian may have a glimpse into the current and his­torical implications of a dowry, simply due to practical reality. However, a Black American who marries a Latina likely will not.

Obviously, these personal, familial, and social categories are somewhat artificial, and the above-noted variables will interact. For instance, supportive families and communities of color may provide a degree of protection against a disapproving society. On the other hand, a gay or lesbian person of color may experience qualitatively different or additive impacts of discrimination. 

3. Determine How to Accurately and Sen­sitively Portray People of Different Sexual Orientations/Gender Identities or Ethnici­ties/Races. 

Having decided to include characters who are different from themselves, writers must next determine how to do so with authenticity and sensitivity. The higher the degree of difference, the greater the “stretch” to portray dif­ferent characters accurately. There are numerous resources available to guide writers in this quest, and we cannot emphasize enough the importance of keeping an open mind and conducting thorough research. 

Conclusions

There are myriad questions that writ­ers must entertain and think through with respect to representing diverse voices: Should heterosexual cisgenders authors never write about main charac­ters who are different from them with respect to sexual orientation/gender identity? Should mainstream writers avoid peopling their novels with indi­viduals who are diverse with respect to ethnic/racial identity? How can a mainstream writer decide when it is and is not appropriate to include GLBTQIA+ or ethnically diverse characters, and how can this be done with sensitivity? Secondary questions that arise from these decisions involve point-of-view choice, the inclusion of such source material as quotes or epistles, and even exposition that centers the reader in an unfamiliar culture or mindset.

We believe the above framework pro­vides some concrete ways for authors to consider these questions and their approach to storytelling. By sorting through the above questions, writers should be able to determine their degree of differentness and level of familiarity with persons of different sexual orienta­tions/gender identities and racial/eth­nic groups. That should give them some sense of how much “work” they need to do to portray characters of different individual and cultural diversities accu­rately and sensitively.

“Storytelling is one key way to teach people about other cultures, and it’s a powerful tool to destroy the prejudices that hold us back from uniting as one.” And research indicates that reading literary fiction improves empathy. That empathy must start with writers.

Maryka Biaggio is an award-winning novelist with a passion for historical fiction. Her nov­els—Parlor Games, Eden Waits, The Point of Vanishing, and The Model Spy—are based on true stories set in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Vanitha Sankaran holds an MFA from Antioch University and a PhD from Northwest­ern University. She is the author of Watermark: A Novel of the Middle Ages. She is a three-time Chair of the Historical Novel Society Conference of North America and most recently served as its Program Chair. She currently serves as a medical director for a healthcare communications agency.