In 2015, Corinne Duyvis created the now-popular #ownvoices tag on Twitter as a way to highlight books where the author shared a marginalized identity with the protagonist. For example, if a lesbian author wrote a story with a lesbian protagonist, that would be considered “own voices” for “lesbian representation.”
This term and hashtag started as an innocent way to highlight books that weren’t getting enough attention and support. But its usage has spiraled out of control into something rather toxic in the publishing industry.
Here’s where #ownvoices went wrong.
How the meaning of #ownvoices shifted
The #ownvoices tag was never supposed to be a value statement. Stories aren’t better because the author shares an identity with the protagonist. It’s just a category.
That being said, it is still a category that is worthwhile to read and seek out. Sometimes when people write from their own experiences, they will include details and nuances that wouldn’t occur to someone who hadn’t had that experience themselves.
But of course, it is still entirely possible to write an excellent story about someone who isn’t exactly like you. This should be an obvious statement, but unfortunately the #ownvoices movement has contributed to growing attitudes that authors should essentially write self-insert fiction, and nothing else.
#Ownvoices as self-insert fiction
There are numerous problems with this attitude. First of all, it ignores the very core of what fiction writing is. A work of fiction is not an autobiography. Authors make stuff up. And part of the whole fun of it is the exercise of putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, trying to understand how they would think and act, and making that depiction believable for your readers.
Secondly, this attitude of “You should write self-insert fiction!” is not applied evenly, and ends up disproportionally harming those it is allegedly supposed to help.
For example, if a straight white woman writes about a gay black boy, she might get a slap on the wrist from a few people on Twitter. But if a gay black man wants to write anything other than a story about a gay black man, these days he may struggle to even get published.
Minority authors owe you nothing
I’ve heard a story of someone whose book was rejected, and the rejection letter explicitly asked them to submit something with a protagonist that shared their ethnic background! And recently on Twitter, an author who made a splash publishing a book about a trans boy received pushback when his newest book was (gasp!) about a straight white girl instead.
Examples like this leave a strong implication that minority authors’ only value is in teaching others about their minority experiences. It’s tokenizing and degrading.
Minority authors, like any other authors, want to write about what inspires them. Sometimes they will be inspired to write about their experiences around identity or marginalization… but not always!
Marginalized and minority authors do not owe you anything. They do not owe you #ownvoices representation. They do not owe you an opportunity to “learn” about their “struggles”. They should be able to write about whatever the fuck they want, just like anyone should.
#Ownvoices as a marketing tool
Because the #ownvoices tag has taken on new life as a marketing tool and a value statement, rather than a mere category, it has created an especially toxic situation for LGBTQ authors.
There have been countless examples of people pressuring queer authors to come out, both from within the industry and from readers at large.
For example, if a woman writes a book with a romance between two women, people will start asking her if she is gay or bi. There is this unspoken attitude at large that says #ownvoices lit is the only authentic form of representation, and anything not #ownvoices is instantly suspect.
But of course, this puts LGBTQ authors in a difficult position. An author’s sexual orientation is nobody’s business. And for many authors throughout the world, coming out can be literally dangerous!
It isn’t your business
Personally, I’m convinced we should never ask if an author’s book is #ownvoices, whether we’re talking about sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, or even physically visible traits like race and ethnicity (which can become fuzzy and complex for people who are mixed race).
This isn’t just because you could be literally putting an author in danger (though that is certainly reason enough). It’s also just rude and intrusive.
If an author volunteers to share that their book is #ownvoices, great! But why would you ask? What makes you feel entitled to personal details about an author?
No one should ever feel like they have to disclose anything deeply personal in order to have the right to tell a certain narrative.
Who gets to tell a story?
Look, there’s a whole conversation to be had about how #ownvoices stories don’t get enough attention and support, and how people writing outside their own experiences often take up space, leaving out those who would tell their own stories. YES. All true. All important.
But people often miss the root problems, and instead obsess over the symptoms. The solution can’t be “no one can write outside of their experience,” because not only is that ridiculous, but look where it leads!
People need to be able to tell the stories from their hearts and souls. They shouldn’t have purists minutely poring over their work and deciding whether or not they are worthy or “allowed.”
Not above critiques
Now, this leads to an important question: Can you critique any author’s handling of sexuality, gender, disability, etc.?
The answer, which should be obvious, is a resounding yes! Critique all you want!
But critique on the basis of the story itself, not on whether or not the author was justified in writing it.
Seriously, leave authors alone! They owe you nothing. Writing a novel can be a profoundly vulnerable act, in of itself. Stop expecting authors to go further, to share parts of themselves they may or may not want to.
We need to let works of art stand on their own, and be critiqued independently of who created them.
Let books be imperfect
While I do think readers should freely and openly critique how authors handle sensitive subjects, it’s also important that books have room to be messy.
We need to allow authors to explore difficult issues, to touch on uncomfortable territory, and to be imperfect sometimes — because FFS, we’re all just humans!
No book will resonate with everyone, or accomplish all things. And sometimes, I think, a lot of people interpret their own personal issues with a trope or book as a problem with the book itself.
Sometimes, the problem isn’t the book. Sometimes the problem is our own unhealed trauma, our own tender wounds. Sometimes a book hurts us, and we blame the book in error.
It’s possible for something be meaningful and authentic to one person, and problematic to another.
This is because, as formerly mentioned, we’re all humans! We’re complicated. We each have our different traumas and sensitivities. And that’s okay! But it pays to have self-awareness. Just because something makes you uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s wrong.
Of course, it could mean something is wrong! But it doesn’t have to. And we should keep our minds open to that nuance when it comes to fictionalized representation.
Moving forward
I’m not advocating that we discard the #ownvoices tag. I still think it has value! But we need to return to the tag’s original intent.
#Ownvoices is a category. It isn’t a value statement. It isn’t a stamp of approval that elevates a book beyond critique. It isn’t a mark of authenticity. Its absence doesn’t make a book “lesser than”; it just, potentially, makes a book different.
And sometimes, it doesn’t even do that.
This blog post is expanded and adapted from a Twitter thread written in August 2020.
