Are we seeking too much truth in fiction? Examining the exploitation of authors’ identities when publishing fiction containing representations of marginalised communities

 

Are we seeking too much truth in fiction? Examining the exploitation of authors’ identities when publishing fiction containing representations of marginalised communities

Gabriella Velardo


In recent times, conversations regarding diversity in the publishing industry and the representation of marginalised communities in books and other media have gained significant momentum. Amid the varied discussions surrounding diverse literature, a crucial question often arises: Who is telling the story and who has the right to tell it?

Through empirical research, this report will dissect this question by exploring the complexities surrounding the publication of marginalised voices, with a focus on how an author’s identity is intricately connected to the contents of diverse literature. The report will begin by defining diverse literature and exploring the benefits of publishing these narratives in the current literary landscape. Subsequently, it will delve into the OwnVoices label and the controversy surrounding its use. The limitations of the term will be expanded upon by investigating concerns regarding identity-based exploitation in both fiction and wider writing.

The case study of author Becky Albertalli will be used to illustrate a severe case of

identity-based exploitation and explore how readers are contributing to a harmful literary environment for authors. This case study will be juxtaposed with that of Australian author, Jenna Lo Bianco. Through an interview with Lo Bianco, the importance of author autonomy when publishing diverse fiction will be examined. Additionally, this case study will shed light on how an author’s identity can become entangled in the craft of writing. The discussion with Lo Bianco concludes with suggestions for how readers and publishing professionals alike can create a distinction between fiction and truth, in order to foster a more sensitive and respectful publishing environment.

This report is limited by the scope of available research as studies in this domain predominantly focus on children and young adult (YA) fiction. However, this industry report aims to contribute to a larger discussion surrounding diversity in publishing and will therefore use the research in this field to make broader insights about the issues surrounding the publication of diverse literature overall. Additionally, the perspectives presented are constrained by the availability and willingness of authors to be interviewed. Consequently, although diverse literature encapsulates narratives from various marginalised communities, only select examples from certain communities will be drawn upon in this report.

What is diverse literature and why does it matter?

This industry report will adopt the definition of diverse books provided by the non-profit organisation We Need Diverse Books (WNDB). WNDB aims to ensure that every reader can see themselves reflected in literature by increasing the number of books that include diverse narratives. Their primary focus is expanding diversity in the children and YA markets, however, they are a respected authority who are commonly cited in broader discussions surrounding diversity in the publishing industry.

WNDB’s definition of diverse books encapsulates ‘all diverse experiences, including (but not limited to) LGBTQIA+, Native, people of colour, gender diversity, people with disabilities, and ethnic, cultural, and religious minorities’ (We Need Diverse Books 2024). They elaborate that disability encompasses ‘physical, sensory, cognitive, intellectual or developmental disabilities, chronic conditions, and mental illnesses’. This definition indicates that representation of marginalised communities in literature covers a wide breadth of narratives.

Current data suggests that the aforementioned narratives are often under-represented in fiction. The Cooperative Children’s Book Centres (CCBC) collects data regarding the publication of children books by and about people from marginalised communities in the United States. Statistics from 2023 indicate that while the percentage of books depicting Black, Indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC) has increased over the years, only 7 per cent of books featured LGBTQIA+ themes and only 4 per cent featured a minority religion (CCBC 2024). Additionally, data regarding the authors of these books showed that 18 per cent of books had at least one Asian creator and 13 per cent had at least one Black creator. In comparison, 70 per cent of the books had a least one white creator, demonstrating that although there is some representation of creators from marginalised communities, the publishing industry is still dominated by white creators

In Australia, there is no organisation similar to the CCBC that records and interprets information regarding the diversity of authors and book content. Nevertheless, Booth and Narayan’s (2021) literature review on diversity within the Australian YA market found that representation of marginalised communities has progressed but is written predominantly by authors who do not share the same identity as the protagonist. Additionally, Garrison’s (2019) analysis of Australian YA literature indicates that these representations are widely limited to exploring identity-based struggles and themes of discrimination and prejudice as opposed to broader elements of a character’s life. This highlights the importance of publishing books that feature representation of marginalised communities in order to address the current scarcity of these narratives, but it underscores the significance of authentic and compelling portrayals of these communities.

Authentic representation of marginalised communities in literature is important and has benefits for all readers. Bishop’s (1990) article ‘Windows, Mirrors, and Sliding-Glass Doors’ still holds relevance in the literary landscape today and is commonly cited to emphasise the merits of diverse literature. Bishop (1990) explains how for readers from marginalised communities, diverse books can serve as a mirror that reflects their shared experience.

Meanwhile, for other readers who do not identify with these communities, diverse books can act like windows that offer insight into others’ lives. Bishop’s analogy describes how readers interact with marginalised stories, once again stressing the importance of publishing authentic and compelling narratives. This perspective is also shared by First Nations writer, Ambelin Kwyamullina, who stresses that a lack of diverse narrative in literature is a failure of humanity as it presents ‘a false image of what it is to be human’, contributing to the continuation of existing inequities and widening the gulf of understanding that is already impairing our ability to be compassionate towards one another (Kwaymullina 2015). Therefore, these two perspectives illustrate how the publication of authentic diverse literature is paramount in reflecting the diversity of our society and expanding readers’ capacity to relate and understand one another. While the importance of these narratives cannot be understated, the question emerges of how the publishing industry can ensure authentic representation of these communities while protecting the privacy of authors.

OwnVoices and the controversy surrounding the label

To advocate for the publication of authentic diverse books, Corinne Duyvis, a YA author, coined the term ‘OwnVoices’ (often used #OwnVoices). The OwnVoices label intended to identify novels that contained representation of marginalised communities written by authors from those same marginalised communities (Duyvis 2015). For example, if a book centred around a character from the LGBTQIA+ community, an OwnVoices description denoted that the author also identifies with the LGBTQIA+ community. It originated from the belief that the publishing industry was prioritising diverse books rather than diverse writers. This stance is supported by data from a study conducted by Booth and Narayan (2018) that revealed that only 30 of the 1359 published Australian YA fiction books in 2016 could be considered as OwnVoices, demonstrating an inclination to publish voices that were white, heterosexual, cisgender, and able-bodied.

Furthermore, Booth and Narayan (2018) interviewed six Australian YA authors of OwnVoices fiction and found that there were strengths in using the label. The authors expressed that they felt empowered by being public about their identities and having the opportunity to make their communities visible in a literary sphere. Furthermore, they conveyed happiness in providing the representation so readers from the same marginalised communities could see their experiences reflected back to them. This suggests that the OwnVoices label was embraced by some authors and served its intended purpose: providing authentic representation of marginalised communities for readers.

While there are no concrete statistics regarding the impact of the OwnVoices movement, it did contribute to an industry-wide push for greater diversity. There are examples of many successful OwnVoices books, including Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give, which spent over 200 weeks on the New York Times Best Seller list, and Aiden Thomas’s Cemetery Boys, the first book with a trans character by a trans author to make the New York Times Best Seller list. The OwnVoices movement also coincided with a significant rise in racial and ethnic diversity among children’s and YA authors, with the percentage of books by writers of colour increasing from 6.4 per cent in 2011 to 24.2 per cent in 2019. While this increase was likely due to several factors, the popularity of OwnVoices likely played a role in promoting the publication of these books (Steffens 2021). 

Nevertheless, despite the perceived merit associated with OwnVoices, the label sparked controversy and the meaning of OwnVoices became distorted amid debates about authors’ identity and creative freedom. Zamastilová (2022) indicated how the label became associated with the opinion that authors should only tell stories about the communities they belonged to, limiting their creative liberties. Furthermore, Schusterman (2023) raised concerns about how the label limited what marginalised authors wanted to write about by imposing an expectation that they should only write about their marginalised communities. This controversy led WNDB to release a statement declaring that they were no longer using the OwnVoices term, surmising that it was used to place diverse creators in uncomfortable and unsafe situations. Instead, WNDB asserted that language an author chooses to use to discuss themselves and their characters is what should be employed when addressing their book (Lavoie 2021). Following the WNDB statement, the use of OwnVoices was widely discontinued, however, debates underpinning the issues that emerged from the label are still circulating the publishing industry today.

Identity-based exploitation in the writing industry

The OwnVoices label generated a contentious discussion surrounding whether authors’ identities were exploited in the pursuit of publishing diverse books. During the rise of OwnVoices, literary agents specifically requested OwnVoices narratives. Rosenfield (2019) remarked that this request forced aspiring authors to reveal aspects of their identity when pitching their manuscript to demonstrate that their novel fit into the OwnVoices category. Rosenfield (2019) drew on experiences from authors to demonstrate how this created uncomfortable and inappropriate relationships between writers and agents. For example, one author interviewed by Rosenfield recounted how an agent explicitly asked whether she had a history of mental illness when she was pitching her book. Moreover, Brianna da Silva, a YA author and member of the LGBTQIA+ community, expressed in a tweet that ‘to have my story be appreciated, I’ll need to make myself unsafe. I’d have to sell myself to sell a book’. These two examples demonstrate how an unsafe environment was fostered by the use of OwnVoices through the expectation that aspiring authors needed to disclose private information to assert their position as a storyteller.

It is important to note that identity-based exploitation in the writing industry is not entirely attributed to the distortion of the OwnVoices label and that the issue also arises in other areas of writing. Abdu (2022), a young Australian Muslim writer, shared her experience of trying to break into the publishing industry by joining a ‘diverse’ writers’ group. She recounted being asked to write about her experiences witnessing violence towards Muslims and to embellish her personal anecdotes. This was suggested under the advice that sometimes facts need to be warped to convey broader truths about a larger issue. Abdu asserted that this approach is harmful and does not benefit minorities, instead exploiting diversity to serve political and financial agendas. Similarly, Ariel Henley, a writer, found herself restricted to only writing about her experience with Crouzon syndrome, a rare craniofacial condition that affects the shape of the head. Henley expressed feeling defined solely by her physical appearance and that when pitching ideas unrelated to her condition, she was consistently asked to change the angle of the piece to focus on herself or the ideas were rejected (Henley 2017). She highlighted the frustration of being pigeonholed into writing about only one aspect of her identity and stressed how neglecting the voices of marginalised people on other important issues is harmful. Returning to Bishop’s article, this pigeonholing potentially prevents the sharing of authentic and varied perspectives, depriving people from enriching their understanding about different communities and learning about different outlooks on particular issues.

These experiences exhibit how marginalised voices are often restricted, perpetuating a cycle of identity-based exploitation when publishing diverse perspectives.

This identity-based exploitation is not confined to the prepublication phase and is also prevalent once books are released. The following case study of author Becky Albertalli shows how writers are forced to justify their suitability to write about marginalised communities from readers and wider audiences who challenge the authenticity of their work.

Identity exploitation and Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

Becky Albertalli is an American author who is best known for her 2015 debut novel Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The coming-of-age novel follows Simon, a closeted, gay teenager who is pressured to come out by a blackmailer who has possession of Simon’s love emails to another closeted classmate.

Despite its popularity, the novel and Albertalli encountered criticism regarding the LGBTQIA+ representation. At the time, Albertalli was a presumed cishet, white woman and some readers believed that Simon’s story was not hers to tell as they presumed she did not have shared experience with the protagonist. For example, Lara, a Goodreads reviewer, labelled the book as ‘problematic’ in her 2016 review. She stated that ‘it’s a book written by a straight person for straight people’ and that ‘straight authors have no business writing coming out stories’. There was also backlash regarding how Albertalli was overshadowing other LGBTQIA+ authors, a perspective illustrated by another Goodreads reviewer, Cas, posted in 2016 that ‘[Albertalli] has no idea what it’s like to be a queer in any way’ and needs to stop being treated ‘as the voice of LGBT+ literature’. Furthermore, Georgia Mannion-Krase, a writer for The Queer Book Box blog (a UK-based subscription service that delivers a curated selection of books that celebrate LGBTQIA+ stories to readers) writes that ‘there’s something pretty uncomfortable about the success of this book [Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda] when there are hundreds of queer YA books with better stories for their queer characters and authors who are open about writing from their lived experience’ (Mannion-Krase 2020).

Following the constant scrutiny, Albertalli published a coming out essay titled ‘I know I’m late’ in 2020 that revealed how she identifies as a bisexual woman. In this essay, she detailed how people would persistently comment on how she was ‘profiting off the communities [she] had no connection to’. Albertalli highlighted how the attacks from readers about her presumed sexuality were personal and damaging as they occurred during a time in which she experienced anxiety and confusion regarding her sexual orientation. Albertalli recognised how the OwnVoices term was not meant to be weaponised to exploit author’s identity, but how the media and readers crossed the line between critiquing a book and attacking the author’s identity. Albertalli conveyed how it was not how she wanted to come out, highlighting how it did not ‘feel good or empowering, or even particularly safe’ and that she was only doing it because she had been ‘scrutinised, mocked, lectured, and invalidated’ (Albertalli 2020).

This is not an isolated case and other authors from the LGBTQIA+ community have also expressed feeling pressured by readers to come out. V.E. Schwab, a fantasy author, shared her coming out story and described that after she had begun writing queer characters, readers started questioning her suitability to write from this perspective, compelling her to share that she was gay in spite of her desire to keep this information private (Schwab 2020). Likewise, YA author Alice Oseman came out as asexual while promoting her novel Loveless which features an asexual protagonist. Oseman explained that she felt pressure to share personal details of her life and that ‘[she] had to put out everything about [her]self in order to sell [her] books’ (Knight 2022).

These experiences, particularly the case study of Becky Albertalli, suggest that while the authentic representation of marginalised communities is important, readers often demand excessive justification from authors, creating unsafe situations particularly among closeted LGBTQIA+ authors. Pressuring authors to disclose parts of their identity in order to prove their authenticity and ability to write from a certain perspective raises ethical concerns regarding the treatment and privacy of authors. Rutherford et al. (2022) implore readers and reviewers to reevaluate how they interact with diverse narratives by approaching all critiques with sensitivity and respect. They stress how readers must avoid perpetuating an environment where authors from any community feel disempowered and obligated to reveal parts of themselves they wish to keep private. This calls for a discussion on how authors can avoid identity-based exploitation and find empowerment in publishing narratives representative of their own experiences, which will be examined through the case study of author Jenna Lo Bianco.

Endometriosis representation in The Italian Marriage

Jenna Lo Bianco published her debut romance novel The Italian Marriage in 2023. The Italian Marriage follows Sarah and Matthew in their fake marriage as they move from Australia to Florence to fulfil an inheritance clause. Italian culture is a focus of the novel and Lo Bianco has spoken openly about her background in cultural research and as an Italian teacher and bilingual Italian-Australian. Her Instagram, @the.italian.teacher, shares content linked to Italian culture that assists readers to frame and contextualise what she writes about and why.

The Italian Marriage also provides representation of endometriosis, a chronic disease associated with debilitating pelvic pain, through the protagonist Sarah. Lo Bianco has lived experience with endometriosis, however, endometriosis was not something that Lo Bianco set out to centre her novel on, but rather something that emerged through the drafting process. In an interview, Lo Bianco explained how she was looking for a challenge for Sarah to overcome and decided to draw on her own experiences, acknowledging that ‘through diverse experiences shared through storytelling, we learn greater sympathy, empathy, and our minds are broadened by the realities of other experiences’.

Lo Bianco is open about her endometriosis and explained how sharing her own lived experiences with publishing professionals and readers was ‘all self-directed’ and ‘shared willingly’. She highlighted how this was a rewarding experience for her as it enabled her to build trust and respect with readers. This suggests that authors who are intrinsically motivated to share aspects of their identity when discussing their books may feel empowered when disclosing this information as it lacks the coercion demonstrated in the aforementioned cases of Albertalli and Schwab. Interestingly, while Lo Bianco shares these details through her Instagram, she also has another private Instagram under a pseudonym in which she shares content related to her personal life, drawing distinct lines between her personal and professional self. This strategy could potentially benefit many authors who want to be open about certain aspects of their lives with the wider community, but who also want privacy over aspects of their personal lives.

In the book, Lo Bianco chose to add a note about endometriosis that explicitly states that Sarah’s journey was not autobiographical of her own. When asked about the motivations behind this inclusion, Lo Bianco said that she wanted to ‘position [herself] as an endo warrior voice in hopes of clarifying why [she] made the creative choices [she] did’. Additionally, Lo Bianco asserts that she ‘needed to construct her journey to suit the needs of the plot’. She acknowledges that although it ‘sounds quite mechanical and devoid of sentiment’ it is ‘simply how the writing process goes’ and that she made Sarah’s ‘journey flow in alignment with her character arc, and with the development of her relationship with Matthew’. This perspective is intriguing as it focuses on the craft of writing, something that is often overlooked in discussions regarding diverse narratives.

Furthermore, this approach emphasises the inherent nature of fiction–no character’s experience is autobiographical of the author’s experience, and the journey of a character and how their identity shapes the novel is considered in relation to the plot and character arcs. In a way, Lo Bianco’s comment illustrates that the representation of marginalised communities is not filtered solely through an author’s identity but is filtered through the craft of writing itself. This entreats audiences to consider whether they are searching for too much truth in fiction, a genre that is rooted in make-belief. This suggests that readers and publishing professionals have the power to create a more respectful publishing environment by understanding this distinction. As discussed, a key way publishers can demonstrate respect for authors includes refraining from creating assumptions between an author’s identity and the narrative qualities of their work.

Conclusion

In summary, this industry report has delved into the complexities surrounding the representation of marginalised communities in the publishing industry. It has examined the concept of identity-based exploitation, analysing examples where personal boundaries have been crossed in the pursuit of ensuring authenticity of diverse narratives. The experience of disempowerment felt by authors, including both being pigeonholed to only writing about their lived experiences and having to disclose parts of their identity to assert their authority, prompts readers and publishing professionals to reflect on how they can improve their approach to diverse literature. One way to achieve this is by ensuring that an author has autonomy over the information they share and that it is intrinsically motivated and not coerced. It is also important to view diverse narratives as distinct from an author’s identity, and that when the readership has an understanding of this distinction, authors can hopefully avoid identity-based exploitation when sharing their stories.

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Gabriella Velardo (she/her) is a writing and publishing student at RMIT university in Melbourne, Australia. She believes that stories shape the essence of who we are and never ceases to find joy in exploring narratives through art, literature, theatre, film and music, as well as her own creative writing. 

 
 
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