Last week, I launched a series of questions addressing the nature and role of diversity in publishing, specifically within the self-publishing industry. Before I return to those questions, a quick proviso: there’s been a lot of mud-slinging on both (or all?) sides of this debate, which can be both wild and wonderful (and occasionally, deeply problematic for all of us involved in getting words out of our heads and dispersed into the world). But we’re not here to sling mud at anyone. We’re here to ask questions and, hopefully, to listen.
Some of the mud-slinging can be interesting to read, or in some cases, listen to: just last month, NPR and Intelligence Squared U.S. hosted a debate over Amazon’s incredibly complex role in the whole mess of traditional versus self-publishing paradigms. As I sat listening to the podcast this last week, I found myself both shocked and perfectly unsurprised at the ferocity of the debate––shocked, because we’re not used to our literary spokespeople literally shouting each other down on the debate floor, and unsurprised because, well, we’re talking about books and reading and literacy and therefore something both deeply, intensely personal, and also universal. The debates over diversity in publishing are proving equally impassioned, and rightfully so. Which brings me to last week’s first question:
What’s the track record of diversity in publishing?
It’s not a good one, particularly if we’re talking about publishing in the Western tradition, what with it being so interwoven the various other Institutions (with a capital “I”) that shape and influence society. Which is not to say I advocate treating publishing artificially as if it has been cut away from every other element of life––not at all. I do advocate paying close attention to how the social, political, and cultural institutions interact. Hashtags like #WeNeedDiverseBooks have evolved beyond mere declarations of personal unhappiness to creating safe spaces for ongoing discussion about these complexities, and the data being mined is revealing.
Take the University of Wisconsin’s article on “Children’s Books by and about People of Color Published in the United States,” which shows that of the 2,500 children’s (trade) books published in the United States in 1985, only 18 were written by African Americans. When you consider the demographics of the United States, wherein African Americans represent 13.1% of the population, that number should have been a lot higher. Closer to 325 books. Progress has been made, along all sorts of vectors, but of the 5,000 trade children’s books published in 2014, the CCBC reports that only 84 were written by African Americans and 180 were written about African Americans. The percentages of other minority groups––ethnic, religious, gender, and others––show similar levels of underrepresentation. Right now, a debate is raging over the representation of mental and physical well-being, and the current ways in which the publishing institution reinforces ableism and neuro-normativity. Young Adult (or “YA”) literature has proven to be a particularly rich medium for addressing these growing concerns.
What about within self-publishing, specifically?
I’m so glad you asked! Self-publishing (and all of its hybrid forms) has proven to be another haven for the marginalized author and all sorts of minorities––both in terms of authors and readers. Because one point of the publishing triangle has been erased––or at least drastically altered––there has always been more room for the nonconformist, the outcast, and the malcontent within the welcoming arms of the self-publishing industry than there has been elsewhere. Without fear of expulsion, ostracization, or censorship, the self-published author can write what needs to be written, and publish what needs to be heard! The welcoming legacy of self-publishing is one I’ve examined before––in fact, many of the Late Great authors I’ve written about over the last few weeks either found themselves unwelcome within, or otherwise distanced from, traditional publishing.
I don’t have any numbers for you about diversity in self-publishing. It’s practically impossible to collate the data, given the diverse forms and outlets and types of self-publication out there. Many self-published works aren’t catalogued the way traditionally published books are, and so the data set just isn’t there. But as Daniel José Older writes so beautifully in his BuzzFeed article (“Diversity is Not Enough: Race, Power, Publishing”), “it’s not just a question of characters of color, [and] it’s not a numbers game. It’s about voice, about narrative flow. […] We see diverse futures, laden with the tangled past of oppression and we re-envision models of empowerment and survival. But only a few of us make it through. There is a filter and the filter is white culture.” Suffice it to say, it seems as though the self-publishing industry has provided a platform for diverse voices to be heard, and diverse readers to be reached. There are ways to change the institution from the inside, but in the meantime, authors can count on finding at least a modicum of representation within the self-publishing industry.
These thoughts barely scratch the surface of these questions, much less the conversation as a whole. As I ponder how to go about touching on the other questions posed in last week’s blog post, please drop me a line in the comments section below with your own thoughts or suggestions! And of course, check back next week as we explore still more of this complicated tangle!
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