Let's talk about race, baby

Let’s talk about how if there’s a room full of people, and only one of them is black, and that’s the guy I’ve got to point out to you, that I’m supposed to feel weird about saying that: “the black guy.” Granted, the problem there becomes when you assume the norm to be white, and only use that lens through which to talk about non-white people, so then of course, there are solutions to this problem: say, “the white guy,” when the time comes, or, ask yourself, of course, in the first place, “WHY THE HELL is there only one black guy in this room? what the hell is going on here? What kind of room is this? Let's get some diversity up in this b—”

Okay, but I digress from my first and fundamental point that, we are made to feel weird and uncomfortable when pointing out color.

Let me state an example.

Already, me, here, I struggled with that above paragraph, with pointing out race in an imaginary scenario!!  

But here’s the thing: who gets to profit from us not talking about race? Who’s discomfort is actually feeding this all white space that push out people of color, regardless of “intent”?

The discomfort helps only the oppressor because if we keep not talking about it then we can’t acknowledge that holy fuck, why is there only one black guy in the room? And if we don’t acknowledge it then how can we even begin to start to change it?

So let’s talk about race, because to let that discomfort rule and silence us, is to side with the oppressors. We've got to go through the discomfort if we want meaningful change. There’s no way around it.  

If my teenage characters sit in the Tim Horton’s parking lot drinking their coffees

In my stories, and from lots of what I’ve observed and noticed in the stories I’ve read – corporate names, brand names are used very little. This feels strange to me considering how they make up a large part of what we see and experience every day.

Yet it's true that certain experiences in our lived past, we cannot divorce from the brand name itself. For instance, if my teenage characters sit in the Tim Horton’s parking lot drinking their coffees, it’s because this is tied to a real experience of what I did as a teen, and no other coffee shop parking lot could capture it in just the right way.

Or perhaps the use will be satirical & cutting; something about its use is meant to undermine it, or us, as a society.

It’s funny, though isn’t it?

From where I sit now, I see Sony, S’well, Logitech, Samsung, and Studio. I am drinking McDonald’s coffee. My boyfriend left a bag of Lay’s chips on the ground. On my browser is open SquareSpace, Facebook, Gmail, and Wikipedia. It’s true that knowing these details, it isn’t integral to this post, to my story. I could have said that near me is my laptop, my water bottle, my mouse, my phone, my stationary.

But I have to wonder if as writers, we’re leaving out some important, integral part of how we experience the world in the 21st century? And then if we are, could it be some unacknowledged resistance of capitalism that many of us have uniformly, coincidentally, silently, agreed upon?

I wonder: Does the use of brand names cheapen our writing? Turn lines into ad space? Or are we scared? In the same way that at the turn of the twentieth century, Modernist writers resisted and grappled with including the telephone into their stories?

Or could it be that the inclusion of these names, perfectly crafted, come packed with meanings already manufactured by wealthy ad agencies that we, as writers, cannot control?  


The world of storytelling, of art, I know, it isn’t meant to be “safe.” Literature that is uncomfortable is often what most challenges us into helping us to grow, as people. But I can’t help thinking, that what if, in a way, the world of literature (as opposed to film and TV) gives us a safe space in which stories can be told without those corporate names that seek to shape our lives and bombard our e-mail inboxes with deals and flash bright lights above us on the highway and who want us only to buy, buy, buy.

But then of course, literature's two-faces are revealed: the one that says buy me, and the one that says, don't, that isn't what matters.

Listen - people watch you,

“Listen – people watch you, they always count on there being someone to show them how to live. If you are happy, everyone can be happy, and if you know how to suffer, the others will know too. Every day you must get up and say to your heart: ‘I’ve suffered enough, and now I have to live, for the light of the sun must not be frittered away and lost without any to enjoy it.’ And if you don’t do that, you won’t have the right to say ‘It’s not my fault’ when someone seeks out a cliff and throws himself in the sea.” - The Bridge of Beyond, Simone Schwarz-Bart