I thought about my past experience with reading books written by people of color. I wish when I were younger and struggling with certain issues prevalent in Korean culture, or more broadly I guess even Asian culture, I could read about people of my ethnicity. Perhaps this was a matter of my resourcefulness, but there is a serious dearth of material as compared to that of white writers. As an English major, or even just as a student in middle school, high school, it is not unsurprising to read works written only by white men.
Which is why I appreciated that in this class, every book was written by a “person of color.” My friend and I discussed how so much of African American literature concerns itself with slave narrative, discrimination, and Jim Crow, and it is because their history, not to generalize, is one of such intergenerational pain, suffering, and abuse. But I also thought about Zora Neale Hurston and how she was criticized for not aligning herself with the material/canon of other African American writers. Toomer’s Cane became a symbol for the Harlem Renaissance, and African American writers embraced his book as a piece testifying their struggle, but he turned his back on the “race” issue. He seemed to elevate himself to a whole other “race” or “person.” So what do we do about writing and the idea of the morally responsible writer?
Toni Morrison said that she writes what she wants to read.
When I write, am I responsible to write about the struggle of my people? It’s not that I don’t write about these things—I am driven to write because I see these struggles—but does it ever become symptomatic of a certain people, the discussion of these issues? Is it okay if I only write about “my” people (and I am aware that although I am a person of color, of course, I am by no means claiming that I understand what “black” people have gone through)? Does it become tiring or even discouraging and depressing to read about? In light of everything going on, I would argue no because it seems more necessary and applicable than ever.
But when making art, is it okay if we do not set out with a moral responsibility?
To be honest, I’m not sure. But what I appreciate about studying texts and human experiences is that although there is the personal and creative element of formulating my own arguments and ideas, of being in conversation with these things, there is also the impersonal factor of transcending the ego of my consciousness. At least, in this way, there is the distance that I seek to contemplate the question about my own responsibility as a writer.