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Reflections on the RWA Dumpster Fire December 28, 2019

Yesterday I sat down to write a specific chapter in Kagemusha. In this chapter, my half-Chinese heroine, Rachel, attends an award ceremony for a national romance novelists association transparently based on the RWA. She meets an older lady who's kind, hip, and charming...at first. Then the lady starts to drop subtle sentences that make Rachel feel uncomfortable. The lady makes fun of the previous year's award-winner by butchering the pronunciation of her "funny" African name. She implies that name is the only reason the author won, because the characters in her book are "not relateable at all." The best books are about "normal" people, like us.

I've been afraid of writing this chapter for two reasons. First, I was afraid nobody would believe a kind, hip, charming old lady would be that racist, and the scene would feel forced. Second, I was afraid people wouldn't notice she was racist at all, and they wouldn't understand why Rachel gets so upset.

Before writing the chapter, I checked Twitter for the first time after the holidays. I found it blazing to the ground.

On December 23, the RWA punished half-Chinese author Courtney Milan for tweeting passages from a '90s romance novel that was re-released in 2014. The heroine is an "exotic" beauty with blue eyes and "the black hair and bronze skin of the Chinese." Other Asian characters have yellow faces and squinty almond eyes, and they and speak in "awkward" English. The heroine is quiet and submissive because in China, no woman ever raises her eyes higher than a man's chest, and her education is strictly limited to "cooking and sewing and the graceful art of pleasing her husband." She explains to the swoony Scottish hero that, "In China shun, compliance, is the rule for women."

Milan was insulted by these passages and complained about the book's racist tropes in the typically strong language of Twitter. The author and a publisher saw these tweets and were upset by the word "racist." In scathing complaints to the RWA, they said Milan's "claims of racism are nothing short of libelous vitriol" and Milan targeted the author "simply because [she's] white." The book absolutely isn't racist because the author studied Chinese culture and is a very nice person.

In contradiction to RWA's official policies stating they won't police social media disputes or honest book discussions, the organization asked Milan to resign from her position as chair of the ethics committee. They suspended her membership for one year and banned her from holding any office for life.

The internet exploded. RWA backpedaled. The president and half of the board resigned.

I shouldn't have been shocked by the number of people who said Milan deserved punishment, and yet I was. Here's a selection of representative comments on one blog post, edited for clarity and brevity.

I think what Milan did is something we are seeing far too much of these days: cyber signalling of how "woke" and virtuous one is with respect to an ever-expanding array of victimized and oppressed groups.
I would argue the word "racism" is often used as an ad hominem attack without sufficient backing. People were *murdered* because of real racism, not the kind of petty name calling that goes on today.
The quotes Milan selected really don't seem all that bad. A bit stereotypical? Perhaps. Hateful? Hardly!

"SJWs," "triggered," "virtue signalling." All of these hot keywords I saw over and over yesterday boil down to one sentiment: racism isn't real. And if it is real, it isn't that bad. And if it is bad, you're just too sensitive.

Racism and niceness are not mutually exclusive.

In So You Want to Talk About Race, Ijeoma Oluo shares an anecdote about a conversation with a friend who objected to her use of the word "racist." That's a strong word, he says. Like his grandmother might be prejudiced against minorities, but it would be cruel to call a nice old lady a racist.

People who are afraid of the word "racist" seem to believe it's a label not for a single trait, but for a whole packaged deal. If you say their words are racist, you must be calling them an alt-right neo-Nazi with a confederate flag in the front yard. You're saying they're terrible people. But they're not terrible people, they're really nice!

The majority of people with racist views don't have swastika tattoos. They're beloved grandmothers who bake Christmas cookies while playing classic movies with "injuns" in the background. They're gregarious neighbors who offer to help you with a home renovation and assume the shoddy paint job was done by Mexican laborers. They're effervescent first-time dinner guests who see the wonton soup and exclaim, "Oh, Su Li, I was hoping you would do this!"

Nearly all of them are nice people. They would never dream of using a demeaning epithet. They're appalled by news reports of shootings at synagogues and mosques. But they are also racists.

I am a racist. I work hard to be the best person I can, but I've been absorbing racist comments and fictional portrayals for thirty-one years. Sometimes I'll read a book with marginalized characters and realize with shame that I have unconscious beliefs about that group. For example, when I read Persepolis I was surprised to see young Iranian girls acting just like young American girls. They're humans just like us—shock of shocks!

It's not my fault; I wasn't born a racist. The world taught me those beliefs. But it would be my fault if I refused to examine my biases and change. Good people are horrified to learn they have flaws, and they strive to fix them. If you refuse to even consider the possibility you have unconscious prejudices because you're "a nice person," well, you just proved you're not nice at all.

Stereotyping and name-calling are real racism.

The most common accusation I see leveled at Milan is that she deliberately raised a stink over nothing. The passages that offended her "aren't that bad." They're "a bit stereotypical," that's all. They're not hateful, and therefore they're not racist.

The same people who believe nice people can't be racist also tend to believe anything less than literal genocide isn't "real racism." They don't see any corpses swinging from trees, so racism isn't a problem anymore. The N-word is just a rude insult. An exotic, submissive Chinese heroine is just a tired cliche, not something to ruin an author's career over.

To a person who is not Chinese, those passages might not seem bad. That person's classmates never made squinty almond eyes in her direction and laughed. Her employers never passed her over for a leadership position because Asians are too unassertive and compliant. A stranger has never backtracked to define a word he used in conversation because he assumes she has a limited English vocabulary.

Like Courtney Milan, the heroine in that novel, and the heroine in my novel, I am half Chinese. Reading those sample passages made me feel belittled and threatened. To someone else the dumb China doll is a mere cliche, but to me it's a slideshow of upsetting memories.

Stereotypes can do more lasting damage than "real racism." People know lynching is bad. Duh. But as evidenced by the many defensive comments in the RWA discussions, they're blind to the harm done by stereotypes. They don't realize how unseen racial biases can chip away at a child's self-esteem, snuff out a "problem" teen's future, cap the career prospects of a person of color no matter how hard they work. They think a statement like "no woman in China is taught much more than cooking and sewing" is a well-known fact. Anyone who gets offended by well-known facts must be an internet bully on the hunt for a vulnerable target. Those virtue-signalling SJWs are trying to shame people with different opinions into silence.

Examining your own racism takes courage.

"That book was boring" is an opinion. "I don't like the author's style" is an opinion. "These words hurt me" is not an opinion.

If you find yourself questioning the motives of a Chinese woman who tweets about reductive Chinese stereotypes in a book, consider turning that question inwards. Why do you assume people who say they were hurt are whining for attention? Or accuse them of having too many "triggers" and feeling hurt for no real reason? What's your motive for dismissing their concerns as "virtue signalling"?

The answer is probably to protect your ego. Maybe you thought that fictional portrayal of East Asians was accurate, or that joke about Mexicans was funny. Maybe you've told jokes like it before and thought it was harmless fun. Now people are saying that joke isn't harmless, which means you're a bad person. They're lumping you in with those confederate flag-waving neo-Nazis. They're attacking you, and it's not fair.

For you to be a good person, that joke can't be offensive. So it isn't. SJWs on Twitter are pretending it's offensive to bully you. Their concerns aren't real. You've never harmed anyone. And so you decide the "woke" agitators are the true villains, and you feel better. You can safely continue believing you're a nice person, without asking any distressing questions.

Asking distressing questions and answering them honestly requires courage. I hope the people mindlessly attacking Courtney Milan for speaking up can find that courage.

As for me, the whole RWA kerfuffle had two effects. First, it showed me my fears were correct: many people will violently resist opening their eyes to the fact that nice old ladies can be racists. But second, it showed me how much that scene of this novel needs to be written. Many people wrote vicious comments about Milan, but many more wrote supportive ones. They've been in my heroine's shoes. They've heard "nice" people say ugly things and get away with it. The only way to stop the behavior from repeating in the future is to put it under a harsh spotlight.

Decade in Review December 26, 2019

The last time I checked Twitter, it was fashionable to post your milestone accomplishments of the 2010s to count your blessings and celebrate the upcoming start of the '20s. Of course, the last time I checked Twitter was a whole week ago, so what was fashionable then has likely been subverted by witty cynics, criticized in an angry backlash, parodied with Baby Yoda memes, and then forgotten.

I'll play nevertheless, because Sweetie and I have a lot of blessings to count. In January 2010 I was a 21-year-old fresh college graduate looking forward to grad school. Now in December 2019 I'm a 31-year-old homeowner with a solid career and too many hobbies to handle.

2010

The decade began with adventure. In spring Sweetie and I traveled to Japan before I began my master's program in library science.

Outside a cat cafe in Odaiba
May 14, 2010: Outside a cat cafe in Odaiba

At Inari shrine
May 18, 2010: At Inari shrine

In the rain at Hikone castle
May 22, 2010: In the rain at Hikone castle

At the end of the year we drove to New York during the biggest blizzard in decades to celebrate New Year's Eve in Times Square.

At the Nintendo Store
December 28, 2010: At the Nintendo Store in NYC

Inside the Statue of Liberty
December 29, 2010: Inside the Statue of Liberty

In Central Park
December 30, 2010: In Central Park

At Times Square on New Year's Eve
December 31, 2010, 11:51 PM: At Times Square on New Year's Eve

2011

In summer we traveled to Philadelphia for the Special Library Association's annual conference. That December I completed my MLS and finished writing my first novel, Bubbles Pop.

Working on couch with Luna
April 13, 2011: Working on the couch with Luna

In front of the Liberty Bell
June 16, 2011: In front of the Liberty Bell

Eating Philly cheesesteaks
June 19, 2011: Eating Philly cheesesteaks

2012

I self-published Bubbles Pop in January, and then I started my first post-MLS job in web development and graphic design. I drafted more than half of a historical novel set in Victorian times, but I realized the book wouldn't work. The realization was both sad and fortunate—at least I didn't embarrass myself by publishing it!

Cover of Bubbles Pop
The book that probably shouldn't have been published, Bubbles Pop

Cover of A Heart Unspotted
The book that never was, A Heart Unspotted

2013

I landed a sweet full-time job as a systems librarian in Portland. After spending the summer by the lake with Sweetie's dad Who, we headed west to start our adult lives proper in a fancy-schmancy townhouse with two floors, a wood-burning fireplace, and pansies on the porch.

Outside our Portland townhouse
April 12, 2014: Outside our Portland townhouse (because we didn't take pictures in 2013)

2014

I completed and queried the original version of my comedic novel Kagemusha. My parents visited Portland and probably soaked in more rain than they'd seen in the previous thirty years in Southern California.

Gifts from my parents
June 3, 2014: Gifts from my parents

2015

With great courage and tenacity, I survived an introductory drawing class. I extensively researched and outlined a Chinese steampunk fantasy trilogy, which eventually became the plan for the visual novel that will be my magnum opus. (I'm still not ready to tackle it yet, but I'm working toward it!)

A self-portrait I drew in drawing class
March 5, 2015: A self-portrait I drew in drawing class

2016

The older of my two brothers visited Portland for the Chinese New Year. (More accurately, he visited the area for work, but the trip conveniently happened to be during Chinese New Year.)

A floating dragon at the Chinese garden in Portland
February 13, 2016: A floating dragon at the Chinese garden in Portland

In spring Sweetie and I bid farewell to gloomy Portland skies and relocated to sunny Central Oregon. To our excitement, our rental duplex had a garage and a grassy backyard.

Rainbows in our first backyard
July 25, 2016: Rainbows in our first backyard

Sick of shopping for ill-fitting clothes, I picked up sewing. I also wrote most of my cozy mystery Whacked in the Stacks.

My sewing buddy
November 5, 2016: My sewing buddy

Cover of Whacked in the Stacks
Cover of Whacked in the Stacks

2017

In April Who passed away. Sweetie spent two months in Indiana to settle his affairs and sell his manufactured home by the lake.

Who's house
May 26, 2017: Who's house

Fish in the lake
May 26, 2017: Fish in the lake

In June Sweetie returned for our wedding at Mirror Pond in Bend, where we were married by a judge holding an elaborate tome of The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide.

Our wedding ceremony
June 20, 2017: Our wedding ceremony

In August Sweetie built us custom PCs, and we watched the total solar eclipse from our backyard.

My complete custom box with RGB lights
August 12, 2017: My complete box with RGB lights

Watching the solar eclipse
August 21, 2017: Watching the solar eclipse

For Christmas that year Sweetie gave me a big surprise: a digital piano! I began my annual tradition of making holiday music videos.

2018

After ten years shackled to leases with ever-rising rents, we bought our first house. I spent most of that summer covered in paint.

Painting the kitchen
May 13, 2018: Painting the kitchen ASAP before our bamboo floors were installed

Free from landlords with a legal right to evict me for making excessive noise, I picked up the flute again.

2019

During an unexpected snow week in March, I finished what I consider my best novel to date, Lizzie Bennet's Diary.

Cover of Lizzie Bennet's Diary
Cover of Lizzie Bennet's Diary

In July I visited my family in Southern California, the land of ten million restaurants and unbelievable traffic. I came home with a suitcase full of new clothing and yummy candy.

My parents' xeroscape garden
July 5, 2019: My parents' xeroscape garden

In addition to my ongoing sewing, music, and house projects, I spent a good chunk of the year writing the second version of Kagemusha. It has the same basic premise as the first, but a radically different tone and plot. The draft is about halfway finished now, and I hope to complete it in the first few months of the new decade.

This brief overview in attractive photos doesn't fully convey the most significant change for Sweetie and me between 2010 and 2019: our vastly improved quality of life.

In 2010 we were poor college students playing video games on a fire-damaged couch in a one-bedroom apartment located in an increasingly unsafe part of town. We could travel to Japan only because of a generous gift from my grandmother. When we stopped by that cat cafe, we saw an early model of a Litter Robot and thought, "Wow, look at the crazy things rich people can afford."

Litter Robot in the Odaiba cat cafe
May 14, 2010: Litter Robot in the Odaiba cat cafe

A decade later, we are those rich people, playing video games on a made-to-order power-reclining couch in our colorful suburban ranch located in an increasingly desirable neighborhood.

Luna playing in her new Litter Robot
March 7, 2018: Luna playing in her new Litter Robot (the litter is fresh)

I'd like to say we clawed our way up to the middle class through hard work, strict budgeting, and tenacity, but that would be only partly true. We're comfortable now because Who was there to give us cars during school and a furnished room when my full-time job search dragged on and on, and because my parents were there to settle the debts I racked up in those difficult early years. Our home-owning dreams came true so quickly because we qualified for the USDA and Oregon Bond programs. Without support, we would have needed a second decade to earn the privilege of covering ourselves in paint.

Here's to another ten years of fun times and good fortune. Happy New Year!

Xmas toast 2012
December 15, 2012: Holiday toast in Bloomington, IN

Xmas toast 2019
December 26, 2019: Holiday toast in Redmond, OR

Let's Stop Making Excuses for Problematic Romances August 4, 2019

Since the dawn of the romance novel, readers and writers of the genre have been unfairly stereotyped as shallow, sex-obsessed, and worst of all, female.

People casually put down all stories about women finding significant others as "chick lit," "bodice rippers," or "easy beach reads." They harass romance authors online, threaten their livelihoods, and say to their faces, "My daughter isn't into that stuff, thank God!"

Under constant siege for their choice of entertainment, romance fans understandably get defensive. They fight back by pointing out how misogynist and sex-negative these comments are.

The problem is, not all criticisms of romances are unfair. And the urge to attack anyone who hints that romance novels are less than perfect can hurt the people trying to make the genre better.

Last year, when I was posting regularly on the Wattpad community forums, I made an offhand comment that Mr. Rochester of Jane Eyre is not a good role model for heroes today. He's a middle-aged man who seduces his vulnerable and isolated 18-year-old employee; psychologically manipulates her to test her feelings for him; forcibly kisses her while saying, "Don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird"; and attempts to commit bigamy with her while imprisoning his mentally ill wife in the attic. What a prize, eh?

In response, people vehemently defended Mr. Rochester. He's just flawed, and that's what makes him interesting! He's just Byronic, not a bad person! One lovely person wrote multiple diatribes to me over several days, going on and on about how Jane is a strong heroine, so how dare I degrade her by implying she was a victim; and Jane secretly liked Mr. Rochester so he wasn't taking advantage of her; and that forced kiss wasn't assault, it was a misunderstanding; and obviously I don't know how to read.

Last month, when I started to become more active on Twitter, I made another comment that 20th-century romances that portrayed rape as something glamorous and sexy set a bad precedent for the genre. Denizens of Romancelandia leapt to educate me on all the reasons the "romantic" rape scenes were not only okay, but revolutionary.

  • Back then women who consented were "slutty," so the authors had no choice but to glorify rape.
  • There weren't any other sex-positive books for women at the time, so those novelists were actually "very forward-thinking."
  • "Those books got me into romances when I was a teenager, and I'll always remember them fondly. I admit they didn't age well."

"Didn't age well" is a ubiquitous euphemism for, "This exalted creative work has terrible morals, but I'd prefer not to dwell on that because I want to keep my nostalgia intact."

These slave-owning protagonists are white supremacist as heck? The book "didn't age well."

The guy slaps the girl around, or vice versa, and the violence is played for laughs? Those jokes "didn't age well," that's all.

This hero murdered his first wife and dumped her body in the ocean, but his young new one helps him cover up the crime and they live happily ever after? Oh, the story might not have "aged well," but back then good wives supported their husbands no matter what. Also that first wife was mean and had affairs, so the murder was a kind of justice, and you can tell he was basically a decent guy because he felt bad about it.

(Side note: Daphne du Maurier was irritated that people called Rebecca romantic fiction, because it was supposed to be a suspense novel about jealousy. I'd love to see a new adaptation that doesn't try to make Maxim sympathetic, but makes it obvious he's a controlling murderer who justifies his actions by painting his victim as a slut who "asked for it." And the second Mrs. de Winter isn't really a naive innocent, but an unreliable narrator who chooses to believe Maxim's questionable version of events because of her jealousy towards Rebecca.)

Today another Twitter thread reminded me of all this. An author I follow posted that she's concerned for women today who think the puppy-strangling Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights is hot. She followed up one hour later to ask people to kindly stop messaging her to explain that Wuthering Heights is great literature.

It is possible for a landmark literary work like Wuthering Heights to have artistic significance, and also have bad morals. It is not an attack on all romance authors or readers to admit a beloved work has bad morals, and to commit to doing better in the future. Minimizing or outright denying the problems in the classics doesn't protect the genre, but hinders it.

Why are problematic romances a problem?

Inevitably, when somebody brings up problematic elements of a well-known novel or movie, somebody else claims they're making mountains out of molehills because "it's just fiction."

People learn from stories, even if they know conceptually it's "just fiction." Readers of historical romances know the love story is a rosy fantasy, but they think those are real period details in the background. Readers of thrillers know the gruesome murders came from a writer's imagination, but they think the details about forensics and law enforcement must be accurate.

Crucially, young people learn the difference between acceptable and unacceptable behavior from novels, movies, TV shows...and nowadays, pornography. Last year the New York Times Magazine ran a story called, "What Teenagers Are Learning from Online Porn." The boys interviewed said they knew they were watching paid actors pretend to enjoy themselves, but they believed the videos portrayed sex acts real women enjoy: slapping, hair-pulling, gagging, facials, etc. "Porn stars know what they're doing," one teenager proclaimed.

When I was growing up, I didn't have pornography popping up on my phone every day, but I did have Jane Eyre and The Fountainhead on the bookshelf in my bedroom. I had access to the VHS tapes of Gone with the Wind and Grease. From these and more I learned that strong men don't take no for an answer, that being sexually harassed is flattering, and that abuse equates to passion.

I didn't realize what lessons I'd internalized until I wrote some YA short stories in my early twenties. In one, a likeable young high school teacher fell for a senior student and punished her for it. In another, a cute girl kissed her study buddy without his consent. My husband read the stories and pointed out what I was doing.

I didn't take it well, of course. I denied the problems and made excuses. Everyone has a crush on a teacher at some point, so that story realistic. Plus I addressed the power imbalance as a primary source of internal conflict for the teacher, so I wasn't being irresponsible. As for the girl in the second story, it's not like she kissed her classmate on the mouth, just the cheek. Adults kissed me on the cheek without asking all the time when I was growing up, and nobody made a big deal about it. The very idea that I would have bad morals in my stories was insulting, because I was an enlightened egalitarian!

Then I quietly conceded those stories were a mistake, and I sheepishly unpublished the series from Amazon.

What can we do when we see problems in romances?

Just like I couldn't see the irresponsible messages I was passing on to readers with those YA stories, other people can't see the problems in popular novels if nobody points them out.

When we see sexism, racism, and other issues in novels—especially in popular ones—we need to acknowledge them. We need to say, "Okay, Wuthering Heights is a great artistic achievement, but hanging your wife's dog on your wedding day isn't sexy. Let's keep that in mind."

It takes courage to do this, because people will reflexively kick back in denial. They'll attack you for "trying to ruin a great book/movie." They'll say political correctness has run amok, artists have a right to creative freedom and morality isn't black and white, you're "reading too much into it" and you need to relax. "It's just fiction."

But we need to have courage and speak up, because these morals do real damage. Like me, thousands of other young writers emulate those harmful classics, posting countless #possessive #dominant #badboy stories on Wattpad and other websites. Every time I see one, I worry what will happen to the young people gushing over the "hot" scenes if they ever fall into the hands of a violent partner.

Every time we say, "That staircase scene in Gone with the Wind was just rough sex," we're teaching people that when partners physically threaten them and drag them to bed, it's not rape. We're also teaching those partners that people enjoy being "ravaged," and though they might be saying no right now, tomorrow morning they'll be smiling coyly in bed like the cat who got the cream.

Every time we see a "funny" scene of a man spanking his wife, or an actor in blackface/brownface/yellowface yucking it up, and we pontificate that "movies/books reflect the times when they were made," we're teaching people that bad behaviors are okay if they're common. And we're implying domestic violence and racism aren't real problems anymore, but mere relics of a grayscale past, and people today couldn't possibly be watching those old scenes and laughing along.

Let's stop making excuses.