A Discussion on “Own Voices”: Lasting Impact or a Flash in the Pan?

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So, about a year ago, I noticed a trend among #amreading folks on Twitter: Several posts included the mention of #ownvoices. It’s a movement started by an author and editor named Corinne Duyvis, whose intention was to increase the number of books being written/published by people in racial, cultural, medical minorities, and the impact these titles have on the public/the majority.

I think this is a great idea. As someone who looks like she shouldn’t belong to a minority group (being Caucasian, American-born, and physically capable), but has faced prejudice and discrimination all her life due to “the invisible disability,” encouraging firsthand accounts of conditions that may be unimaginable to most readers sounds awesome.

Here’s the catch: Too many publishers aren’t accepting manuscripts from, for example, writers on the autism spectrum or with a learning disorder. They’d still prefer to have established, NT (neurotypical) authors conduct interviews or textbook research, and come up with a story around that involving, say, a character with Asperger’s syndrome.

This is a definite problem. If you’re not autistic, how can you possibly hope to really capture all the nuances of what that life is? If you aren’t an immigrant to a certain country, will you truly understand how that experience works? If you’ve never been in combat, would it be truly effective for you to pen a first-person narration of a veteran with PTSD? The list could go on and on. The point is: Firsthand experience makes for the best fictional stories, because they are authentic.

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That’s why I support the Own Voices idea, and it makes me sad that more of it isn’t happening. And I believe this also suggests a bigger issue within our society — that all the campaigns towards “acceptance” and “tolerance” aren’t truly making an impact. Or, that the people in important-decision-making-positions — like whether or not to publish a certain book — aren’t really “tolerant” themselves.

And I don’t feel hypocrisy is too strong a word to use.

A major reason I’m not participating in “official” Autism Awareness Month is hypocrisy. The group “Autism Speaks” (that promotes such campaigns) claims to be invested in creating inclusion for ASD within “regular” society. However, what they’re really advocating is research to find a cure for autism. While some of us would take a cure if it was offered (and I’m absolutely not judging that), many of us wouldn’t, and wouldn’t want it forced upon us.

Isn’t that the point of something like Own Voices? To build bridges, rather than widen the chasms between “normal” and “atypical”? To encourage the perspectives on what’s “normal” to broaden?

It appears that the Own Voices movement may be dying before it even really gets off the ground, and this concerns me. As a writer belonging to a minority, as a parent of children in that same minority, and as a reader who has lots of difficulty finding characters and plots I can relate to.

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It concerns me as a self-published author. I am trying to make money from sales of my work, the result of enormous effort and time, and it’s one of the few options open to me at the moment.

Until I had my second child, I was working in daycare and teaching dance. But in both of those positions, I faced severe stigma from co-workers and administrators who really would’ve preferred an NT individual in my place. Most of the parents I worked with were totally fine with me teaching their children — and so were many of the children. But conformity is a big deal in industry, and it spoke louder than the soapbox of “inclusion.”

While I voluntarily took an extended maternity leave, and still hope to return to teaching at some point, in the meantime, I’ve found a fair amount of success in self-publishing.

For years, I sent queries and pitches to agents, who loved 90% of the submission, but…and there was always a but. There was always something “missing” — that part where something my character or plot did only made sense to me. And the reason for that was because my characters always did things the way I would, to protect themselves from emotional reactions or social situations they didn’t understand. It turns out “most people” don’t behave like that. Well, it’s “normal” for me.

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Anyway, I’m presently choosing not to write a contemporary or bio-based Own Voices story. (I did try recently, and the feels were 110% too much.) Though I am including autistic characters in my YA fantasy series. And while I’ve had much positive response to my books so far (and of course am dying with gratitude for that), I’ve also had some mixed reactions, from a few folks who “just didn’t get it” when it came to my style.

Now, I know some of this will simply be personal taste, which varies. However, when you consider that I, as an autist, am certainly from Planet XYZ, and most people who read fantasy novels are from Planet A or Planet B, this makes me twitch a little.

It goes back to my original issue about people accepting autistic authors. Will readers pick up my book(s) just because I’m autistic, and they want to be perceived as “inclusive”? Or will they look into my work because they like fantasy and think my series sounds good? And do I want them to order my book(s) for just the latter reason, or the first as well?

I’ll admit, I’m more than forthcoming about my being on the spectrum. I do want readers to critique my work based on its literary merits; but I also don’t want them to dismiss it offhand, saying, “Oh, if the author’s autistic, it’s probably not very good.” I also want NT readers to understand that, although I process the world differently than they do, that doesn’t automatically mean they won’t comprehend or appreciate my fiction.

Overall, I think that Own Voices, unfortunately, still has a long way uphill to go. I’d hate to see it burn out before it really lights a flame.

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