I grew up, by virtue of gay friends and family members, bonded to the gay community. I was often the only straight girl in the room.
Emphasis on straight girl.
Now that I’m writing YA, I still feel like I have that taped to my chest like a name tag. I’m not generally forthcoming about my personal life in this respect—for complicated reasons, I would no longer call myself, in any situation, the only straight girl in the room—but I am very clearly not a gay male, and many of my books, particularly by 2012 love story GONE, GONE, GONE, have major gay male characters.
Writing it was completely comfortable, and GONE, GONE, GONE remains one of my favorite things I’ve written. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that what I was doing was wrong. And not in the way you might think.
Because the truth is…I love writing gay characters. And is some of that because I feel much more comfortable writing guys, and this eliminates the need to write a female love interest? Absolutely. Is part of it because I strongly believe that there need to be more gay main characters, not only in YA, but in contemporary fiction as a whole? Of course. Is it because I believe that we need books about gay characters that aren’t coming out stories? Yes. Yes yes and yes.
Is it because I think it’s something I know better than the other amazing YA writers tackling books about gay main characters?
No. How could I? We have amazing gay men writing amazing gay male books. And I write lesbians, too. It’s only very recently that I’ve realized what a zillion people have already figured out; there’s a ridiculous dearth of lesbians in YA. But there are also a zillion women who know more than I do. Who have experienced more than I have.
Who have more of a right to tell those stories.
The feeling that what I’m doing is wrong is a feeling of guilt. That I’m part of the problem. Not the larger, religious right, discriminatory problem, but that same niggling feeling I get when I watch Queer as Folk. I fucking love Queer as Folk. But do I really want to be the girl who squeals over gay guys? Isn’t there something so very straight girl in the room about that?
There’s this feeling I can’t entirely shake, and it’s that I’m encroaching on someone else’s territory.
But the funny thing about books is that it’s pretty impossible to have too many. My stories don’t preclude anyone else’s. We are very far away from having any sort of problem with “too many gay characters” in YA.
So I’m probably delusional.
And I’m probably not stepping on toes.
And as a self-identified queer girl, I should probably shut up and kiss whomever I want and write make out scenes for my boys, because these are my characters and these are the love stories I have to tell.
And I will. But I still wish I could really get rid of the guilt.
Maybe someday.
Thank you for this. As a straight, married lady whose next project is a YA lesbian romance, you really just wrote down all of my fears (as well as the talk I gave myself to keep writing the book).
It’s awesome to know I’m not alone in this.
Your post makes me really think, and I have often wondered if part of why there is not “too much gay in YA” is because a lot of people don’t feel like they have the right to write it. They don’t want to get it wrong, or not do it justice, or step on toes, or play too much in the stereotypes. I’ve grown up pretty sheltered. I didn’t have a lot of gay friends, at least not that were openly gay, or even in the closet and struggling.
And even going to college, I joked with my friends about getting a lesbian for a roommate. And as it turned, I did, and I laughed at myself because even joking, even knowing that part of me would probably feel uncomfortable in the same way I would have at the time living with a boy, it didn’t actually matter. Pretty quickly she became one of my best friends and still is… because it didn’t matter. And maybe this sounds bad, but I had to have a slap in the face duh moment to REALLY get that.
But I hadn’t really been exposed to it, brought up in the places I was. And with that, would I feel comfortable writing a gay character, especially a central one? I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least not right now. But maybe it’s because I’ve felt like you. So this long winded reply is to say thank you, for pointing out that it really is okay for others to go there. Because we absolutely need more. And if girls can write guys, and guys can write girls, then is sexual preference really any difference? I don’t believe it for a minute.
Mmm I’ve seen a lot of debate over this issue of who should write what. I think (as a straight girl who is totally outside the GLBTQ community, so it’s not like I consider my word as some sort fo definitive, know all answer) that it’s great when straight writers write GLBTQ fiction, but it’s probably a good idea for them to be active in supporting great writers who come from within the GLBTQ community at the same time.
I read something about white writers writing novels with black protagonists, which mentioned that publishers may sometimes take a white alternative to a black author telling stories from within their own community, because unconciously that makes the publishers feel more comfortable. Obviously that doesn’t cast any blame on white authors telling those stories (as long as they work really hard on making those stories reflect the realities of the community they’re representing), it casts blame on underlying prejudices within the publishing industry.
I don’t know if this applies to GLBTQ publishing, but I do see a lot of straight writers supporting writers from within the community already.
What seems to be begining to happen is that now people are actively asking who can read/watch what and everyones motives for picking up GLBTQ media are being called into question. I guess that makes sense, because there’s a whole creepy history behind why some men like to watch movies featring lesbian and bisexual women. I do feel more leery about enthusing over gay characters and I try to keep my reactions less gushy instead of ‘OMG I love this romance pairing’, (although sometimes I fail). Sometimes that feels like I’m not being real true to my own reaction…but is that the most important thing here anyway?
Oh and yay to the ‘more lesbian characters please’ sentiment and bisexual characters and transgender characters…
I definitely don’t think guilt is necessary, but I do think this is an area for straight authors to tread with caution. It’s not just a question of writing what one isn’t; it’s a question of being part of the dominant culture and trying to understand/genuinely portray the experience of someone who’s part of the non-dominant culture.
I haven’t gotten the impression that there’s the same concern about the stifling of LGBTQ authors by straight authors as there is concern about the stifling of POC authors by white authors, and as you point out, we’re not overburdened with queer YA — so my personal feeling is, “The more the merrier, but make sure you get it right.”
By “getting it right,” I mean that straight writers should talk to LGBTQ people about their experiences and get feedback on the manuscript. (Watching GLEE or reading Harry/Draco fanfic is not enough!) Every LGBTQ person has a different experience as a sexual minority, of course, and may have a different take on the piece, but I think the chances of writing something that feels false or stereotyped or ignorant/naive will go way down.
I don’t know if it’s necessarily guilt that you’re feeling–maybe it’s just anxiety. Anxiety that you’re not doing it right or, like you said, you’re encroaching on someone else’s territory. I often feel the same way about a lot of the things I write about, but I think if you feel in your heart that this is a story that needs to be told, then you have to tell it.
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