Respectfully Writing Characters of Color

 

Writers have a problem writing characters of color. Not just inclusion, (different rant, different time). No, I’m talking about how writers write characters of color.  

Where-wolf?

Over the course of three books in an urban-fantasy series about a current-day wizard I saw vampires, fairies, and even a mobster, (oh my!) but only one character of color—rendered as little more than a plot-keeping device. IN PRESENT-DAY CHICAGO. I stopped reading that series at book three. That author's city didn’t look like my city.

When it’s done badly

 

What is worse than a white-out in the third-largest city in the U.S.? When we’re told about people of color, in itemized form, by James Ellroy in  L.A. Confidential and I paraphrase, “...four colored youths were arrested…” and "...allowed the negros to escape..." While Inez Soto is described as the “Mexican girl.” By contrast, Lynn Bracken is rendered in vivid detail, (a la Veronica Lake) right down to her plastic surgery scars. 

What do you mean stereotypes aren’t color-descriptives?

Then there are the characters of color who are never defined as such. In Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars trilogy, Desmond “Coyote” Hawkins is the sole standout person of color in the First Hundred colonists on Mars. How do we know that Desmond is a person of color? We’re told he’s from Trinidad. He is also the ONLY character with a nickname, (I’ll leave inference to you) and he’s a stowaway, (yeah, inferences). We know Desmond’s political views, his talent for survival, and his dialect. But beyond dreadlocks, Robinson never shows us what Desmond looks like.

It’s not rocket science. A character, (any character) is written to either advance the plot or promote understanding of the theme addressed. I believe Robinson wrote Desmond to include the perspective of a person of color from the third world as humanity expands across the solar system with the hierarchy of class and race in tow. However, without a description, without a face for the name/ethnicity does that inclusion even matter?

People: neither food nor fetishes

Coffee, caramel, mocha, café au lait—don’t. It doesn’t matter how many published authors have done this. Just don’t. Too many writers from too many backgrounds have pointed out this descriptive method is only applied to characters of color and is, intended or not, racist AF.

If you wouldn’t describe a white character as “the color of buttermilk shot-through with Tabasco,” do not describe a character of color by any combination of food. If you would, (un-ironically) describe any character through food, consider another form of expression. Maybe interpretive dance. 

Color should NEVER be a pejorative

In his short story, The End of the Tether, Joseph Conrad writes a character of color alternately described as "rather yellow," and "swarthy."

Critics and scholars have defended Conrad's choices as those of a white man writing from a white man's perspective. His adjectives may be a literary device of dated vernacular and obsolete ideas between white men facing the extinction of the colonial system—or it may simply be latent racism. Whatever Conrad's intent, his descriptives are appalling and have no basis in responsible writing.

You can keep it simple

If you're uncertain, write it lean. In his mystery masterpiece, The Woman in White, Wilkie Collins shows us—after an introduction that includes pointed paternity—that Marian Halcombe is a woman of color. We see this via Marian’s painful self-assessment as “dark” compared to her half-sister who is “fair,” as well as how white characters treat her. Collins did this in 1859. No "yellow" no "swarthy," or other abusive invectives, just a single adjective supported by the character’s stated parentage.

There is a range of colors that apply to people of African ancestry, people of Asian ancestry, and people of color the world over. Let's explore that further.

Was that so hard?

 

In her Coldfire Trilogy, C.S. Friedman describes a first-meeting between a white character and a black character in When True Night Falls, “His skin was a rich brown…the sun picked out copper highlights along high cheekbones, a stern forehead, a strong jawline. His features were broad and well-formed and his black hair, closely cropped…” The character tells us what the man looks like. Friedman even hints at attraction, through acute detail, without stooping to fetish.

 

More recently, in the Expanse books, Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, (writing as James S.A. Corey) describe Flight Engineer Naomi Nagata as having “the thin look of a Belter, [human born/raised in a low-gravity mining colony along the outer belt of our solar system] standing almost two meters tall…” with “…dark skin and black curly hair. Her features are a mix of African, Asian, and South American.” You know Naomi is a woman of color. You know she is attractive through James Holden’s interaction with her.

 

But what will we tell the children?

I think many writers decide against stating/disclosing a character’s ethnicity/color out of fear of getting it wrong and/or the reception from readers. I understand. Even when you write it right, the response can be hostile. There is no accounting for the reader or their psychological filter. 

 

In her Hunger Games series, Suzanne Collins did everything but render character illustrations. She described Rue as having, “…dark brown skin and eyes…” and Thresh is equally, clearly, described as black, (with another character’s derogatory commentary thrown in to punctuate). Yet when the movie was made, fans, (supposed readers) lost their collective sh—tuff when African American actors were cast as Rue and Thresh. These characters of color were pointedly depicted in a dystopian future in which segregation has once again been employed by elites as a form of population control. All of this was apparently lost on the folks blindly tweeting #StickToTheBook.

“What kinda accent? Brooklyn or gutteral?” Willie (or Joe) Bill Maulden’s Upfront

Think beyond skin color. Show us hair, show us eyes, nose and mouth. Let us hear their voice (NOT dialect). Does the tawny-toned comedian with the babyface speak in clipped, South African accented English? 

Or, you can go full Technicolor

Niya Benoit's black pixie-cut remained salon-tousled, despite the 80-percent humidity. Even in 90-degree heat her umber skin looked cool and smooth like a dark gemstone. From one of my short stories.

So, give us the outline of that man or that woman. Words are our medium, the page our canvas. Use medium and canvas to SHOW that reader who that character is.

If it seems like I’m kind of judge-y, please know that I have gotten it WAY wrong. I have used stereotypes, I have used dialects, and I have used food-descriptions. In short, I have written some goofy sh—tuff. Then, I learned better and did better. 

Easy-peasy, right? No. It’s not enough to read the white writers, (Collins, Friedman, et al) who get it right. Seek out and read writers of color. Novelist N.K. Jemisin has written extensively and thoughtfully about writing race as have the folks at Writing with Color. Both blogs are excellent places to start.

Of course, you can do all of this and still get it wrong. It’s much like navigating our world and just like traveling beyond your neighborhood, the effort is rich and rewarding. Respectfully writing the “other,” without the cliches (crutches?) that are no longer acceptable can be difficult. Getting it wrong can be discouraging. But the effort is SO worth it. As our dear Fiona Quinn told me. I want to write the world that I live in and that world includes everyone.

The image at the top is used for educational/illustrative purposes only, as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine. The creator is unknown.