Are 'Identity Categories' Really Helping Marginalized Authors?

The Aggrieved Parties

Ok, so I took the plunge and entered 'The Aggrieved Parties' in a handful of book award contests. And, as any reader who has carried out similar schemes will know, in almost all such cases the entrant is required to choose a category for their book and, no, not just between fiction and non-fiction, but also between various fiction categories, such as historical, science fiction, romance, mystery/thriller etc. (The Aggrieved Parties comes closest to ‘action and adventure’).

And, for an additional entry fee, you can even enter the same book into two or more categories.

But, it’s when perusing the categories that things become a bit… well... strange. For example, most awards have prize categories for LGBTQ fiction, black fiction, women’s fiction etc. If you don’t feel a little cognitive dissonance here you should – and no, it’s not because you are about to read some liberal-baiting neo-con screed but rather because these categories raise genuine questions even for such traditionally marginalized authors.

Let me explain. Mystery, romance, sci-fi are genres, right? They therefore refer to the content, and to some degree, the style of the book, correct? But, as far as I am aware, texts do not have races, genders, or sexual orientations. So, what the hell exactly does ‘Black Literature’ mean?

I present this as a genuine question. Does it mean that the author is black? Ok, but surely that in no way precludes the book being a mystery, a romance, or a historical novel etc. does it? Or does it mean that the content focuses primarily upon black characters or such a community? If so, and the author was of another race, could it still then be considered to be ‘Black Literature’?

Does it refer to the target readership, such as the category ‘Children’s Books’ obviously does? Or, like ‘Christian Literature’, does it refer to both the author, audience, and the presumed ‘message’ of the work? If so, what are the implications of categorizing a well-written piece of fiction as being 'targeted' for black people, as opposed to readers in general? Racial profiling anyone?

I suspect, however, that the reality is something even more pernicious, something that most definitely does not aid or advance the cause of traditionally marginalized writers: the unstated belief that a black writer’s inherent ‘blackness’ permeates the text to such a degree that the text itself somehow must be indelibly imbued with the author’s racial DNA.

Change the race, gender, or sexual orientation in question and the same creepy vibe still holds sway. Can a transgender person not write a worthy piece of fiction without their gender/sexuality somehow underscoring the piece?

I certainly believe they can (and, incidentally, so did the sexually ambiguous Paul Bowles). Does a gay woman always have to present a ‘gay woman’s perspective'? Could she not just write a good work that refers explicitly neither to her gender nor sexuality? Aren’t all these latent author colour/sexuality categorizations limiting, if not actually belittling?

This applies to straight white men too. I’ve had comments come my way assuming (conveniently after learning of my identity) of my white maleness somehow permeating the very keys on my computer. Such commentators are using one identity as a divining rod to uncover nascent manifestations of race and/or sexuality, you know, like the McCarthyites did to root out commies and degenrates.

I once met an American artist of Vietnamese ancestry who told me how she bristled when reviewers and commentators inevitably referred to an ‘Asian’ motif in her work when she had in no way consciously utilized any. She wanted to be viewed as an artist who simply made interesting stuff, not as an ‘ethnic’ flavoring. Commentators and critics weren't letting her.

But, it may be asked, what right or ability do I have to write from the perspective of a gay Cambodian woman (as I do in ‘The Aggrieved Parties’)? Well, I have some imagination and empathy for one thing. Surely we can credit writers with those qualities. I’ve also traveled very widely and have lived in Asia for 30 years as a minority ‘outsider’. So yes, I have creds.

But even if I didn’t, if a writer is not ‘allowed’ to assume characters very different from him/herself almost every piece of worthy writing in history would have to be consigned to the scrapyard. Fiction would essentially collapse into mere autobiography or degenerate into prolonged solipsism. After all, the whole point, the inherent challenge and interest, of writing fiction is to convincingly assume the roles and perspective of others!

Unfortunately, an entire cottage industry of books (both fiction and non) that are little more than collections of virtue signaling has emerged. No, I’m not going to link or name names but I’m sure you recognize the type – those with telling sub-titles like, ‘How One Wheelchair-Bound Woman Took Control of Her Life’. I’ve tried to read a few of these items but gave up quickly, for several reasons.

Why? For one, it seems that the point of the entire book is already made in the sub-title. The text inside is just a prolonged extension of that theme – all surface, no substance.

Two, the marginalized character seems to serve merely as a (virtuous) model for whatever identities he/she/they carries – meaning that the characters become caricatures. And no, being made to look ‘less like us’ does not advance the status of the marginalized, as I argued in my previous blog post.

Three, such books are clearly geared towards readers who have a similar identity or status – they might as well come with a cover sticker warning saying ‘Not suitable for cisgender white males.’ A lot of preaching (to the converted, it would seem) and finger-pointing punctuate the text. The tenor of victimization is pervasive. The morality is simplistic and binary.

Kudos, then, to those writers who create marginalized characters who are, first and foremost human individuals, people who all readers can identify with – not merely slaves to their own identities.

With that in mind, in ‘The Aggrieved Parties’ I strove to make Phany Som impulsive and controlling, eager to take action, manipulative and yet warm-hearted. Her sexuality is integral to the plot development but it is not included as a novelty, nor is it the core of her existence. I feel like I developed a character first and foremost, one who just happens to be a gay Cambodian-American woman.

One reason I enjoy reading Paul Theroux's work is that in many of his books set abroad we see the white western male out of place in the foreign milieu (in which, more often than not, they become the marginalized character). Often they are buffoons or mad men, but they are, first and foremost, characters.

But, so too are the locals that Theroux portrays – and while he presents them as behaving and speaking within a recognizable cultural/local context (for authenticity), they are rounded and completed - with individual foibles and peccadillos.

They are individuals, not primarily generic ‘Asians’ ‘Africans’ or 'Indians’ - but actual characters who just happen to have a marginalized identity. And if any readers could point me towards marginalized fiction writers who create compelling characters who supersede virtue signaling or avoid victim narratives, I'd be more than happy to read them.

The revised version of 'The Aggrieved Parties" is available at: The Aggrieved Partieshttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/109...