The chicken came first.

On Race and YA Lit, by Neesha Meminger, Racialicious.

. . . years ago when I was submitting my first (admittedly awful) manuscript to agents, some of the nicest rejections I received were accompanied with, “Your novel has much to love, but regrettably, we already have an Asian author for our list.”

Now I understand The Brushoff – I’ve provided plenty of those in my life and do not resent or judge other providers of same. But to be satisfied with ONE author representing an entire continent that consists of countries as varied as Korea, Sri Lanka, Uzbekistan, and Nepal? Seriously?

All you have to do is stroll through the aisles of a bookstore to see that the fantasy, mystery, romance genres are stocked full. And not with fantasy, mystery, or romance by authors of Color. Those, if and when they exist, often get stocked in the African-American, Native-American, Asian-American, Latin-American, or Multicultural sections.

Given the choices that agents, publishers, and major bookstores make about what they acquire and how they promote it, does the market inform what gets published?

Or does what gets published actually inform the market?

It's the latter.

This week I had a related discussion with one of my male colleagues [Hello, and please leave a comment!] about women in television. It is the same argument I have with many male people about the representation of women in American media. Their side usually goes like this:

"I see women in television all the time. There's Lifetime, WE, Oxygen. Men only have Spike. Even though men comprise the leads on almost every scripted and nonscripted series on television, along with almost all the substantial secondary roles, that reflects the demand of the audience. If women demanded more TV shows about women, then networks would produce them. Studios and networks don't want to lose money. You shouldn't blame them for producing programming for men, by men and about men (specifically white, ostensibly heterosexual and Christian men) because that's what audiences want. Why do you hate capitalism?"

That was a compilation of sentiments, not direct quotes. During my last conversation like this, I wanted to start screaming and throwing things. It usually takes my Dirty Girls story to get the other person to accept that I have a valid, informed position about media representation, despite the fact that I've been writing about this for over two years and I have a degree in film production . But by that point in the discussion, the other person is irritated by a multitude of issues, mainly the fact that I won't back down because I know what I'm talking about.

Each time I have this conversation, I try to get better at it. Yet it still amazes me when people are oblivious to their own privilege and the effects that it has on everyone else. Which leads to the screaming inside my head.

Lack of demand does lead to certain shows getting canceled and certain books not flying off the shelves. However, if the people who control the supply of media don't believe that certain demographics exist (or would prefer that certain demographics didn't exist at all), the audience can never demand what they don't know about.

.

I remember seeing Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact, and thinking,

"Of course he's the President. He's pretty much the most famous person in the movie. Who else would be in the White House? Bill Pullman? Oh." I also thought he should have been nicer to Téa Leoni. She was just doing her job. How was she supposed to know that E. L. E. was not some top official's mistress named Ellie, but instead an Extinction Level Event?

This late-90s flashback was inspired by the following article:

Fear of a Black President, by Seth Grahame-Smith, The Huffington Post via Stuff White People Do.

. . . I'm a liberal, college-educated white guy. I think gays should be allowed to marry, I think women deserve equal pay for equal work, and I firmly believe that the more ethnically diverse America becomes, the more perfect and lasting our Union will be.

What do you want, a cookie?

But there's something about the idea of a black president that scares the shit out of me.

Until now, the notion of a black chief executive has belonged exclusively to Hollywood. I remember seeing Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact, and thinking what a cool, novel choice it was to cast a black man as the president of the United States. Cool, because it hit my progressive sweet spot. "Yes! That's the way the world should work!" Novel, because the idea seemed impossible. And that was scarcely ten years ago . . .

It didn't strike me as novel at all because it was Morgan Freeman. He drove Miss Daisy and battled both a monkey virus and hard rain. He later went on to play God. Twice.

Mr. Grahame-Smith continues, emphases mine:

. . . But the idea is very real now. A black man may well become the leader of the free world. And even for someone who fancies himself a progressive, that's forced me to take a long, hard look at what that would really mean to my white mind. To identify that tiny, obscure part of me that's suddenly afraid, and find out what its problem is.

Here's what I found.

It's been easy believing in equality, because part of me -- the part that's suddenly afraid -- didn't really think we'd ever achieve it.

For as long as I can remember, I've felt secure as a white person. Secure in the unspoken belief that no matter how much social progress we made in America -- no matter how many blacks and Latinos graduated Magna Cum Laude or how many trophies Tiger won -- that we'd always be the ruling class from sea to shining sea.

What?

That belief was so ingrained in my DNA [In your DNA? Really?] that nothing could shake it loose. Not the first billionaires of color, not the surging growth of the Latino population, not the Congressional Black Caucus...not even Oprah.

For though my better angels usually won the day, and though I was happy with the strides America was making, I was also -- deep down in that DNA -- gratified by the knowledge that mine was still the easiest color in America to be.

But a black president? That's different.

A black president means anything is possible. It means that that last little parcel of earth -- which for 232 years has been solely inhabited by white men -- is now open to people of all colors. That may seem insignificant. After all, there are black CEOs, black movie stars, black Senators...but the "highest office in the land" is just that . . .

Mr. Grahame-Smith was then shocked (shocked!) that people read this and concluded that he was "either an idiot or a racist." Well, dude, it's one thing to believe that being white is the easiest color to be in the United States of America. It's a whole other thing to believe 1) that white supremacy would and should continue forever; 2) that electing Senator Obama as President would end white supremacy; and 3) that the end of white supremacy would be a detrimental event because "a black president somehow takes ... white folks down a notch."

There's more!

. . . Some of these hypothetical people are simply racists. People who've let that fear consume them, and who would never vote for a black candidate no matter what. Others [others?] are like me -- whites who embrace equality, and who've loved people of all colors with all their hearts, but who (somewhere deep down in that DNA) are afraid of what this brave new world will look like. Of what their place in it will -- or won't -- be . . .

Okay, bucko. If you actually embraced equality and "loved people of all colors", you wouldn't be worried that the darkies are taking over and kicking you out of your assumed place. You would see a black President as more representation of more people in our flawed governmental system. Just because you call yourself a "liberal" doesn't mean you are one. If your readers are calling you a racist idiot, I suggest you take some time to figure out whether their claims are valid and why.

Because Voting for Barack Obama + Having black friends ≠ I'm not a racist!

.

Like and Do

There is a difference. I just found Do and I like it. :)

Stuff White People Like.

stuff white people do.

For example, here are some things that White People (supposedly) Like:

• Being Offended


• San Francisco


• Multilingual Children

Here are some things that (some) white people do:

• name foreign places after themselves


• forget the whiteness of the bomb


• teach their children to steal

Happy reading!

.