I was reading Lori Tharps's
blog post today and it got me thinking: What if I don't call my fiction "African-American"? What if I don't label myself? Will others yet label me?
Like so many black authors who (of course) know readers of every color and ethnicity, I've struggled with the genre label for many reasons. For one thing, we're the only group who has this (little) section devoted to our work in some bookstores and libraries. I've never seen a section of my library that reads "Asian-American Fiction" or a little sticker on a book to let all Hispanic readers know that the book was written by one of their "own kind." (Okay, that was my first and last Shirley Sherrod joke, promise.)
Maybe it's a lofty thought, but I think my writing appeals not only to black readers, but to readers who like a specific genre, mainly thriller and suspense--twists with believable characters and great backstories (think Lisa Scottoline, Linda Howard). I don't like to feel wedged into some space, a space that I feel is tight and rigid and surmises that just because I'm brown, only brown people will enjoy reading my work. I think it's unfortunate that the publishing world is still so segregated, and that, for the most part, it's a very tolerated practice. As long as there's logic behind it, right? (At least that's what the apathetic response seems to be.)
Of course I want black and brown people to read my work. But I want white people, Asians and every other color in between to give it a try too. So, that's why, even though others may still perpetuate this primary "genre," I'm no longer labeling myself. What do you think? Is there an upside? Downside?
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