To this day, marginalized communities—Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC), the disabled, neurodivergent, impoverished, LGBTQ+ communities, and women—are continuously dehumanized and oppressed. We are under near-constant attack by lawmakers and our fellow citizens who are afraid of what they don’t understand. But where does that fear and hatred come from?
It’s the unknown. The age-old issue of the people in power not understanding those who seem different from them. People used to control do not know what to do with folks who want to live their lives and express themselves freely.
Have you ever wondered if there was some way you could help?
One of the most effective ways to make someone see your humanity is to tell your story. Make people see you—really see you for who you are and what you’ve been through. That is why it is so important for people who identify with marginalized and oppressed communities to share their stories.
Not only that, but it also opens the door for marginalized youth to see that they have a chance out there. Telling your story—with all its trials and successes—sends a brilliant message of hope to those who will come after you.
It says “You can do this. You are not alone.”
They Disrupt the Popular Narrative
Let’s face it, the traditional cishet, able-bodied, white, masculine narrative is still dominating the industry. And not only is it detrimental by discouraging marginalized folks from even pursuing authorship—it’s also just plain boring. The same stories are being told over and over and continue to be revered. This is not to say that none of those stories have artistic merit or that they are unworthy of such praise.
One of the most common excuses for turning down work from marginalized authors that editors and publishers give is that they don’t feel qualified—as a person with immense privilege—to represent diverse authors. Most frequently, this affects authors of color. White editors might not feel comfortable editing for a Black author, especially if their work addresses issues of racial discrimination and white privilege. There may be some truth in that. It would probably be easier for a marginalized editor or publisher to relate to and understand the story. But does that make it okay? Perhaps a partial solution would be for more people from minorities to work in the industry. Perhaps people in the industry should face their own privilege and work through their discomfort. I can’t say whether either of these will mend the gap, but it is something to think about.
All of this is to say that, in an ever-changing world, we need stories that better reflect the people living in it. Stories told by marginalized authors break up that narrative and provide a fresh view of the world—one that more people can relate to and feel seen in. When we continually refuse to be silenced or erased from the narrative, we normalize the idea that we belong in the narrative in the first place. We have our own narratives—and those deserve just as much reverence.
They Humanize Minorities
The number of discriminatory bills being proposed and passed through Congress and state governments right now is terrifying. Anti-trans and LGBTQ+ bills are sweeping the nation. Female-bodied folks have lost their right to bodily autonomy. It’s hard to see—to wake up every day to some new bill proposing that I and my friends are not worthy of basic human rights. It’s demoralizing. I can’t help but think that these lawmakers would feel differently if they got to know people like us. In their minds, they’ve separated us from our humanity. How do we make them see that we are just as human as they are?
We have to tell them. We have to make our stories known to dispel any preconceived notions people may have about us. The power of stories cannot be overstated. It’s the only way to foster empathy. How can someone walk a mile in your shoes if they don’t know what they look like?
In a study published recently focusing on dispelling transphobia by using deep canvassing to encourage people to take the perspective of transgender people, researchers found that those who’d participated and had a ten-minute conversation—literally only 10 minutes—about what life is like for a transgender person saw a statistically significant decrease in transphobia that lasted three months. That is huge. It just goes to show that telling your story and allowing others to try on your shoes, does make a difference.
If that much change can happen in ten minutes, just imagine what a whole book could do. Imagine how those people would feel after spending hours immersing themselves in the life of a transgender person or a person of color or any other marginalized community member.
Every single member of these communities has a story. We each have a deeply personal and unique tale to tell. The more stories out there about our personal experiences, the harder it will be to dehumanize us. And it serves to dispel harmful and hateful stereotypes.
If there is even a minuscule chance that sharing your story could help people see you and those like you as equals, isn’t it worth a try?
Audiences Want to Read Them
Big-name publishers might not have us believe it, but stories from minorities are actually in high demand. Gatekeepers in the industry function in covert ways at times, claiming to proudly accept and uphold the commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion with nothing to back that up. They continue to favor the stories about the dominant narrative with a few token authors to make their diversity quota.
They might believe that that is what audiences want, but they are wrong. Audiences want to hear marginalized stories. If you don’t believe me, spend a little time in online communities filled with minorities. I am active in many of these, particularly those who support queer media. Shows and books with positive queer representation do incredibly well online and build huge fanbases. Audiences are raving over these stories, and yet the industry is still dominated by the traditional narrative.
Why?
It’s easier to stick with the status quo. It’s easier to continue doing what they’ve always done. It’s easier to not talk about the real-life experiences of minorities that might make the majority uncomfortable. And if we keep holding our stories hostage in our minds, we are making ourselves easier to ignore.
But your audience will support you. The gatekeepers will fight to push you down, but your audience is right there to pick you back up because finally, someone is speaking up for them. They won’t let you fall.
They Serve as a Beacon of Hope
Sometimes, I think back to when I was a young teenager. I was confused about my sexuality and felt very alone. I thought there must’ve been something deeply wrong with me if I was feeling this way. No one else was. Clearly, I was the problem.
I lived in a small, rural town in Missouri, which is to say that there wasn’t exactly a plethora of LGBTQ+ resources around and not a lot of people felt comfortable coming out, either. So, like any other nerdy kid with a love of escapism, I found solace in books. I spent long hours in my school’s library—the librarian even let me go in there during lunch period sometimes. One day, I stumbled upon a book that looked promising. The cover had rainbow-colored lines all across the front and back. I read the blurb and knew I had to read it. One of the main characters realized he was gay really young, but he didn’t tell his family. He struggled with it. He was crushing on his best friend and his sister was the only one who ever understood him. And even though he was a boy, and I wasn’t, I saw myself in him. He was scared, just like I was. He hid himself, just like I did. At the end of the story, he got to be exactly who he was. His family loved him, and he reunited with his best friend to become more than that. He gave me hope.
“In an ever-changing world, we need stories that better reflect the people living in it. Stories told by marginalized authors break up that narrative and provide a fresh view of the world—one that more people can relate to and feel seen in.”
After that, I foraged that library for every book with queer characters. I loved them. I still do. I remember when the only openly queer person in my school came to me for recommendations and we bonded over every book. Those stories created space for me—within myself, but in a community of people like me.
Those stories changed my life—saved it, even.
I’d never known someone like me. I’d never spoken to anyone who felt like I did until I opened up a book and saw someone else’s story unfold—not exactly like mine but close enough to make me feel like they could see me, too.
When we see ourselves in stories, we feel like we belong in the world. By virtue of existing as an author who identifies with a minority, you serve as an example. You normalize the idea that people like you can be authors. You normalize a richly diverse atmosphere in the industry, which opens the door for future authors who may have never thought it was an option for them.
You could do that for someone. Your story could be the one that convinces someone like you to keep going, but it will never get the chance if you don’t put your story out there.
Your Story Can Change the World—One Person at a Time
If visiting a person’s home for a mere ten-minute conversation can alter their perception of a group they dislike, your book could change the minds and hearts minds of so many more.
Picture it. Imagine showing your book—your life’s story—to the world and having someone look you in the eye and tell you that you’ve made their heart kinder. Or that you made them understand their loved ones in a new light. Whether it’s opening the mind of someone who thought less of their fellow humans or reminding a young person that they are worth more than all the bad things they’ve heard about them—it all contributes to the creation of a better world.
There is no conceivable way to entirely uproot the system and fix all of the darkest parts to reflect a kind and accepting place in one fell swoop. But that kind of thinking is dangerous. We think there’s no way we can fix everything, so why should I even try? But trying—telling our stories, making people hear us—is something we can do. Will your book change the minds of millions and see the world into a bright future? Probably not. But it could improve the life of a single person, which causes a domino effect. That person could take your story and share it, or their own, and help another person. The chain goes on and on and on until the world is just a little bit better.
This is how we do it. This is how we change the world.
