Regarding the Roundtable on Intersectionality

(I’ve already said something about this on twitter, but I wanted to put this here in a more permanent form.)

So! I did a roundtable, it was titled (unhelpfully) ‘Intersectional SFF Roundtable’. It’s pretty nonspecific and, frankly, a shit title. Concerns were raised and I’d like to address them.

First I want to thank writers L. D. Lewis (@ElleLewis6) and Justina Ireland for raising the very just point: that the roundtable failed to include black contributors–even though the concept and term of intersectionality was coined by Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, a black woman and civil rights activist. This is a huge failure on my part. Some terminology was also used imprecisely within the roundtable itself. The right term should probably have been ‘from the global south’ (and that would have also been a more exact, more specific title). Much of our vocabulary for discussing race, reparative justice and post-colonialism originated from black activists, and it’s injurious to appropriate them without including black voices in the discussion.

It’s especially wrong to center the discussion on how marginalized readers and writers might feel they aren’t being represented by the dominant discourse while excluding a demographic that’s lived with untold generations of erasure. This implies that I think the dominant discourse doesn’t sideline and ignore black people (it does). In doing this I’ve committed an act of double erasure. I recognize that this is not simply ‘just using the word intersectionality’: it is more and deeper than that.

I own the mistake, make no excuses, and apologize. This is all on me.

(Anti-blackness, needless to say, is a global phenomenon and not exclusive to white-majority countries. Black people are treated terribly in Asia, and there’s a specific exclusion of black Asians, so much so that they are often not viewed as being Asian. I credit, particularly, following Riley H. at @dtwps who speaks up about this aspect of anti-blackness often, and from whom I’ve learned a great deal.)

I’d also like to thank L. D. Lewis and Troy L. Wiggins (@TroyLWiggins) for being very patient. I was hesitant to reach out not because I didn’t want to be held accountable, but because I didn’t want to ask them to perform emotional labor they were hardly obliged to. They treated me with more charity than I deserve. (I’m also individually apologetic to them for taking up as much of their time and energy as I have; I hope I’ll be able to repay them in some form.)

Troy brought up the very good point that I may not have been the right roundtable host, and I could have recommended someone else for the job that would be able to tackle the topic with more finesse and consideration. If something like this comes up again, that’s definitely what I would do, especially for an opportunity with monetary compensation (this one was not; it was done to help promote an anthology).

Beyond that, I promise to watch myself better. Anti-blackness is a real blind spot for me and I’m often too complacent about the fact. I’ll continue to signal-boost and support (financially or otherwise) black voices in all respects, as that seems to be the most useful thing I can do. Some starting points:

Fiyah Magazine’s Shop

L. D. Lewis’ PayPal 

Riley H.’s PayPal

(I have named L. D. Lewis and Justina Ireland as the black writers who raised these concerns initially, because they are the ones I am aware of; if I missed any other, do let me know!)

‘The Universe as Vast as Our Longings’ in The Jewish Mexican Literary Review

When I was asked for a story for the insurrection-themed issue of The Jewish Mexican Literary Review, I knew I wouldn’t be pulling punches. ‘The Universe as Vast as Our Longings’ is my first story for 2017.

Here’s Americanah again, which I’ve lately been in conversation with:

“I have a Nigerian friend who is a writer. Do you know Kelechi Garuba?”
“I’ve read his work.”
“We talked about your blog the other day and he said he was sure the Non-American Black was a Caribbean because Africans don’t care about race. He’ll be shocked when he meets you!” Shan paused to exchange the leg on the table, leaning in to grasp her foot.
“He’s always fretting about how his books don’t do well. I’ve told him he needs to write terrible things about his own people if he wants to do well. He needs to say Africans alone are to blame for African problems, and Europeans have helped Africa more than they’ve hurt Africa, and he’ll be famous and people will say he’s so honest!”
Ifemelu laughed.

In ‘Universe’ the narrator is a war orphan, adopted into the country that burned hers, raised to believe that it was the right thing: ‘That is a specific act of conquest, to make future generations glad for the scorching of our country, to make us believe that it is a boon to be uplifted from our own histories. Before long, we aspire to emulate those who turned our families into a casualty statistic. We become not people at all, but fogged mirrors.’

It’s a story about being queer in a society that hates you, a story about being owned by the people that destroyed yours, and it’s a story about life as resistance to your written destiny. It’s a little about subversive art, a bit about interracial adoption, a bit about how respectability politics will get you precisely this far: several notches below and several steps behind where you were hoping it’d get you. It’s a pretty angry story, and this isn’t something that I feel requires apologizing for. (Even then it is a story that is, perhaps, more optimistic than reality is given.)

It’s also a story where queer tragedy looms closer, more inevitable, than in any other of mine. But I prefer not to be a lazy writer.

I’m pleased that it’s part of an issue that is particularly about radical literature, with writers from such backgrounds that go beyond the accepted hegemony of American- or Britishness. Do give the entire issue a read.

Yuki Yuna is a Hero (Yuuki Yuuna wa Yuusha de Aru)

Content warning: ableism, potentially unfortunate depictions of physical disability and wheelchair usage.

If you think this is yet another third-rate rider of the Puella Magi coattails, well… yes, that’s what it is. Again. Unlike Magical Girl Raising Project though, there’s a bit more thought put into it, the other-world landscape is pretty, the monsters are imaginative and everything just looks that much more… expensive. Oh and there’s no random murdering and brutalizing of queer girls, so that’s a plus. There is tasteless fanservice. Remember when this stuff was aimed at girls, not at creepy otaku men? Those were the days.

(Those were the days when magical girl shows were aggressively heteronormative, sort of sexist, formulaic, and sort of boring; Yuki Yuna puts lesbians front and center, it’s sort of sexist, it’s sort of perfunctory and… okay, to be fair.)

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A Review of the Year 2016

(Not really.)

Consumed

One of the highlights of this category, for me, was the indie game Masquerada, a cross between Transistor and perhaps The Banner Saga. It’s one part visual novel, one part squad-based RPG, presented with fine visual style and fabulous music, and easily the best writing—and among the best voice acting—I’ve ever seen in any game. I very much hope to see more like it, and more from Witching Hours (whether a sequel or otherwise), who IMO could easily stand poised as the next Supergiant.

XCOM 2 was really good, wasn’t it? I’ll probably replay it at some point (if I can just make myself reinstall the billion or so mods to make the game a bit more… more), and hopefully by now most of the performance issues have been patched out. You don’t play this stuff for the story or the writing, but what’s there served it fine. Playing for the first time always has the thrill of discovery you just can’t replicate on the second go; facing new aliens was genuinely exciting and often dangerous.

In terms of books, this was the year I started getting into Chimamanda Adichie in a big way. Americanah, obviously, and currently (and slowly, to savor) reading Half of a Yellow Sun. She’s a bloody tremendous writer. Obviously, neither of those books was published in 2016, but better late than never.

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw was another highlight. It’s usually very hard to get me to read a book with a male protagonist (well, not necessarily is Persons male, as such). But this is an interesting, unique noir; what I like best is that Cassandra’s style is never static and it’s been evolving constantly since I first read her short fiction. She does something new every time, and I have the pleasure of seeing a little bit of what she’s got forthcoming next, which will be different yet again.

I binged on a bunch of magical girl anime in search of something that’d be interesting the way Puella Magi was. The result was exceedingly poor. I’ll give Flip Flappers another try, though. Not magical girl: Psycho-Pass was fucking amazing. Looks like the next year I mostly just have second seasons or remakes to look forward to. Oh well.

My livetweets of MCU films: X-Men: Apocalypse, Captain America: Civil War, Captain America Whatever It Was, and the Thorses. They were all predictably completely terrible.

I recommend Kiva Bay’s essays. This one’s very good. (Her art is also not to be missed.)

There’s a line in Terry Pratchett’s wonderful book Going Postal right at the start where Moist is asked if he has any last words before he is hanged and he says, “I wasn’t actually expecting to die.” That’s how I felt on election night. As polls came in showing me that I had been betrayed by my fellow white women, that they were the ones with the knife all along, I felt sick and sad and broken.

Nora Reed is one of my favorite people this year, and in general really. Their writing here, and their bots, the most famous of which is probably Thinkpiece Bot.

I was introduced to J. Moufawad-Paul’s philosophy writing, which is actually really, really accessible without sacrificing incisiveness; Continuity and Rupture is available now, but I’m also looking forward to his Austerity Apparatus forthcoming next year.

Created

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So I had a lot (to me) of stories out in 2016, but of them all I was especially proud of ‘The Prince Who Gave Up Her Empire’, an epic desert fantasy of deconstructing gendered language, playing with myth and prophecy and predestination. People found it sexy. I’m satisfied.

Capping off 2016 is ‘We Are All Wasteland On the Inside’ (illustration above by Eric Asaris, which I really like), one of my rare forays into dark fantasy. I described it on twitter as ‘Lesbian noir meet tragic Spirited Away, in a decaying magic realist world’, more specifically the world is Bangkok and the magic is from Himmapan Forest (do look it up; don’t appropriate it). It’s one of those stories that I write with an intent of cathartic bleakness, which I should think aloud on at some point.

What I’m looking forward to in 2017 the most is, of course, my epic fantasy WinterglassIt’s loosely a lesbian retelling of ‘The Snow Queen’, very loosely. Mostly I’m especially looking forward to writing the acknowledgments, there being a lot of people to whom I owe thanks.

Magical Girl Raising Project (Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku)

Content warning: descriptions of graphic violence to women, young women, pregnant women, children; queer tragedy; homophobia; transphobia.

Well, well, if it isn’t a blatant Puella Magi Madoka rip-off.

In and of itself, there’s nothing wrong with that. Madoka was huge. There was always going to be a parade of copycats, the way there are parades of copycats of everything else (sometimes produced really fast; see Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress shamelessly pasting bits from Attack on Titan) and ‘magical girls, but dark‘ is almost its own subgenre. You can do interesting things with that, or… you can produce Magical Girl Raising Project. 

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Winterglass, forthcoming from Apex

Sci-Fantasy Novella Acquistion: Winterglass

Apex Publications is pleased to announce the acquisition of Winterglass by Benjanun Sriduangkaew. Winterglass is a fictional sci-fantasy about one woman’s love for her homeland (Sirapirat) and her determination to defeat the Winter Queen who has overtaken the land.

I’ve been sitting on this for a while. I wrote Winterglass from late 2015 through much of 2016, on and off. It went through a couple drafts (there was a lot of silly flab, some unnecessary secondary characters and a subplot that went nowhere) before it was ready. It also turned out a good deal longer than expected; I thought it would be, at most, 15,000 words but the final manuscript is more than twice that. Oops. That makes it the longest thing I’ve ever had published, so far. (Yes, it’s longer than Scale-Bright by a good measure.)

Here’s the blurb.

The city-state Sirapirat once knew only warmth and monsoon. When the Winter Queen conquered it, she remade the land in her image, turning Sirapirat into a country of snow and unending frost. But an empire is not her only goal. In secret, she seeks the fragments of a mirror whose power will grant her deepest desire.

At her right hand is General Lussadh, who bears a mirror shard in her heart, as loyal to winter as she is plagued by her past as a traitor to her country. Tasked with locating other glass-bearers, she finds one in Nuawa, an insurgent who’s forged herself into a weapon that will strike down the queen.

To earn her place in the queen’s army, Nuawa must enter a deadly tournament where the losers’ souls are given in service to winter. To free Sirapirat, she is prepared to make sacrifices: those she loves, herself, and the complicated bond slowly forming between her and Lussadh.

If the splinter of glass in Nuawa’s heart doesn’t destroy her first.

It is very loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Snow Queen’, set in a South East Asia analogue that’s been subjugated under an eternal winter. It is queer (of course), post-colonial, and probably several kinds of fantasy. It contains, among other things, a big dog. I love big dogs!

Coming late 2017. I’m pretty hugely excited.

First Impressions: Masquerada

I’ve been playing Masquerada: Songs and Shadows, a tactical story-heavy RPG set in a Venetian city of politics, intrigue, and civil war. From the title screen on I was charmed: the music is intense, gorgeous, and matches the game’s aesthetics perfectly. Much of the game’s story is told through hand-drawn panels, stylish, minimalist and very elegant indeed. I’d say it reminds me the most of Transistor.


I found my favorite character pretty fast, right in the tutorial that drops us in media res into the last chapter of Cyrus Gavar’s life, a man bent on ridding the city of its oppressive system where the haves command the magical masks (Mascherines) and deny access to them to the have-nots. The city—the Citte—is quickly established as a place fraught with power struggles, and before long Cyrus is executed for his role in leading the insurrection. (My newly found favorite character, Lucia Shuria, is the lady up there and the one who kills him.)

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