Coffee & proofreading! Copyedits for #TheDarkFantastic are due in 48 hours.
Press suggested "Race and the Imagination from Harry Potter to the Hunger Games" as a subtitle. Why not "from Harry Potter to Black Panther?"
Because I'm writing another book about the Black fantastic.
One of the things my mentors told me is that it's one thing to write a lot of books. Quite another to write a book people wanna read.
The final version of #TheDarkFantastic was approved back in March. I'm not a supergenius like some of you -- my writing & thinking takes time.
I wanted Black Panther to land, have its impact, and read its aftermath & re-evaluation. I wanted to read what my colleagues in comics studies had to say about it.
I also wanted to watch the Year of YA Black Girl Fantasy, to see how audiences & critics reacted.
Finally, I needed time in order to build theory and frameworks to think about these things. In the midst of that realization, one of my former students introduced me to my agent.
And so now, I get to look at the *Black* fantastic from both sides -- as a critic & a creative.
My theory of the dark fantastic is less about creators than it is about fans and audience reaction. I hug my fellow Black critics & creators at the beginning and the end...
In the middle, I go in on all of US/UK speculative fiction. *Especially* how it positions Black girls.
But nah, my book isn't some taxonomic take on the whole of Black spec fic. That's been done. That's *being* done. I respect that work, but that is *not* my project. I'm about building theoretical frameworks for scholars coming after me, as well as lenses to see & evaluate.
I realize some will critique the project because of my focus on race in fandoms associated with billion dollar transmedia franchises, instead of theorizing (& highlighting) Black creators. That's OK.
There can be more than one book.
There need to be more of us working on this.
And like I said, that's my next project. Initially, before I realized how books like this worked, I thought I'd have three sections: 1) racism & symbolic violence in popular SFF franchises; 2) Black SFF for kids & teens! and 3) race in Black comics.
But that's 3 different books.
I doubt I'll ever write a book on Black comics. I have colleagues who do that work extremely well. I do want to carve out my space as a Black fantasist -- this is my opening salvo, but most assuredly, given life/health/strength, won't be my last book.
In the book, I distinguish the dark fantastic cycle from the Black fantastic, Afrofuturism, and multicultural fantasy.
But you don't have to wait to see where I'm coming from!
This. (That's why I'm not holding my breath for the "blue wave," which is assuredly a myth. Around 50% won't give up their pedestal. Never have, never will.)
Here's a truth that's as American as apple pie: You're going to have a hard time convincing ~50% of WW to give up their promixity to the most powerful group in the nation.
The half that are already voting blue aren't economically or socially dependent upon conservative WM.
Every single gain in this country was hard won. Few of those gains were made by pleading with that 50%. In fact, they're the ones who transmit White supremacist ideology to each successive generation.
Also, for those talking about Black mythology "beyond" or "outside of" slavery & Jim Crow -- there is no beyond, or outside of. Those experiences were the crucible. Our myths and folklore were created back then, because our ancestors were fully human, and humans create culture.
Why is it so difficult for us to look at our enslaved ancestors fully in the face & see them as not only completely human, but extraordinary?
Why do we reduce their lives to mere survival? Flight? Suffering?
What about their dreams? Hopes? Stories? Imagination?
If we don't understand them and their lives better, who will?
I'm not sure if Octavia Butler was Black American or if her folks were from the Caribbean, but KINDRED is sort of Shakespeare for anyone wanting to build a Black North American fantastic world. She dealt with the problem of slavery way back in the 70s.
Plenty of challenges for building a North American Black fantastic: 1) Slavery, of course. How can you build SFF while incorporating that? 2) Also, it's not North America after all. This place is Turtle Island & belongs to 100s of Native nations -- have to take that into account.
3) What do you do about language? Naming people and places? Naming magical phenomena? Sounds cooler when it's not just plain old English. 4) What about religion? Many (not all) Black US folk are Christian & Muslim, and much of our history & folklore -- & myth -- involves faith.
Honestly, this is why I spent time in #TheDarkFantastic examining the construction of race in the Western speculative imagination, and left Afrofuturism -- which I do value as a Black American, and a Diasporan -- alone.
There's been a lot of heat for (a few) African immigrants to the US for critiquing Black Panther, but I think that it's important for us to read what continental Africans have to say about it.
(And we have to listen to their refusal to be labeled with our constructs, too.)
Thread. (Those of us who came of age in the 1990s had better language & definitions, but the culture was the same as described in the 1980s. Assault was viewed as your own fault. The Internet -- and especially the social Web -- changed everything.)
(Trigger and content warnings, pls mute) The vast majority of women who came of age before 1990 did not have adequate terminology or definitions for sexual violence. *My cohort was the first to have them, but there were violent sanctions & even social death for women who dared.*
We came of age in the 1990s.
1990s sitcoms and the culture in general gave us the language. But you risked social death if it wasn't a stranger. You risked being retraumatized. #DesireeWashington
There were layers to what happened last week, though. I've supported the person who sparked it, bought her book, and just skimmed her response post over lunch. And... when I went to her talk, she definitely emphasized her home & community culture as a factor in her success.
Beyond a particular digital celebrity's ego, I think that these conversations deserves more nuance. Goes deeper than folk "wanting it both ways" -- they are both in a sense. Folks are from one culture; they're steeped in another. That's hard.
My upbringing wasn't bicultural. With the exception of 1-2 lines, I have zero known non-Black American ancestry post-1865.
But I did grow up bi-regional, lol, if that's a thing. Southern father & grandmother, Northern mother & grandfather. Helps me imagine the immigrant dilemma.