I suspect the most important aspect of "writing the other" is a constant awareness that one's own experiences are neither natural nor universal. Therefore the question always has to be asked, "How would this person's life experiences have different from mine? And how would that affect their perception and expectations of the world? For that matter, how would it affect the *reality* of their world?"
I think you've been running into a few of these questions with the whole "women in philosophy" topic lately: the understanding that your own experiences as a philosopher who happens to be female are not necessarily typical, and that understanding why other people would feel the need for a concept of "women in philosophy" means understanding the ways in which their experience of the intersection of studying philosophy and happening to be female differ from your experience.
Perhaps the most extreme current U.S. example of the different universes that people of different races live in are the horrific experiences of black people in police interactions that are only now being given the media attention they deserved because of cell-phone videos. That's a rather pointed example of how difficult writing someone else's experience can be. If you haven't personally experienced that constant, grinding awareness of what could happen to you or your loved ones with no expectation of justice or recourse, how well could you write a character who would experience it? (Along with all the other layers of experience -- I just picked that one as an extreme.)
When writing historic fiction, I deal with a constant dual awareness that my characters should be true to their setting, but that they should also be kind to the readers who identify with them. That I should never pull a bait-and-switch where I've invited a modern reader to identify with some aspect of my historic character and then punch the reader in the face with a hurtful stereotype or by using a worn-out trope that my reader has seen over and over again. My Catholic friends told me how refreshing it was to read a historic fantasy novel in which the Catholic church (or it's analog) isn't turned into a cartoon villain of oppressive intolerance. And now I'm trying to work very closely with my Jewish beta-readers to make sure that my Jewish characters have the same opportunity to have happy stories within a historically oppressive context that my queer characters do. And on down the line for all my other non-white non-Christian non-straight characters.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-07-21 05:01 pm (UTC)I think you've been running into a few of these questions with the whole "women in philosophy" topic lately: the understanding that your own experiences as a philosopher who happens to be female are not necessarily typical, and that understanding why other people would feel the need for a concept of "women in philosophy" means understanding the ways in which their experience of the intersection of studying philosophy and happening to be female differ from your experience.
Perhaps the most extreme current U.S. example of the different universes that people of different races live in are the horrific experiences of black people in police interactions that are only now being given the media attention they deserved because of cell-phone videos. That's a rather pointed example of how difficult writing someone else's experience can be. If you haven't personally experienced that constant, grinding awareness of what could happen to you or your loved ones with no expectation of justice or recourse, how well could you write a character who would experience it? (Along with all the other layers of experience -- I just picked that one as an extreme.)
When writing historic fiction, I deal with a constant dual awareness that my characters should be true to their setting, but that they should also be kind to the readers who identify with them. That I should never pull a bait-and-switch where I've invited a modern reader to identify with some aspect of my historic character and then punch the reader in the face with a hurtful stereotype or by using a worn-out trope that my reader has seen over and over again. My Catholic friends told me how refreshing it was to read a historic fantasy novel in which the Catholic church (or it's analog) isn't turned into a cartoon villain of oppressive intolerance. And now I'm trying to work very closely with my Jewish beta-readers to make sure that my Jewish characters have the same opportunity to have happy stories within a historically oppressive context that my queer characters do. And on down the line for all my other non-white non-Christian non-straight characters.