The Dignity of Stories - Ten rules to avoid trivialization

I love stories that dig deeply into issues of individual experience and social importance. So many stories that I reread - To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, The Grapes of Wrath, Oliver Twist, and more - grapple with what makes us human and what makes up communities. They both respect and personalize large issues.

On the other hand, I’m frustrated by stories that glue relevance to mundane stories to make them seem bigger, toss in diverse characters without making them distinct, or use traumas as unexplored plot points or unexamined explanations for why antagonists behave badly. The things that matter to who we are and the challenges that most gravely threaten our culture should not be trivialized.

That’s the moral issue, which some may disagree with. Especially those who are creating entertainments with no pretensions of seriousness. But, even if you write to provide amusement and escape (which is worthy), this is worth a closer look for two reasons:

First, including important issues can cause harm unintentionally. I’ll take a chance here by using blackface as an  example. (And I apologize if I offend anyone. If I unintentionally cause harm.) The minstrel show was the most popular style of entertainment in the late 1800s in the US, and this genre persisted into the 20th century. It was cruel, mocking, and harmful. Often, the adoption of blackface was intentional (DW Griffith) cruel and inexcusable. But I wonder how much it might have been the result of a lack of reflection (Fred Astaire). When could/should people have know better?

It isn’t always clear. When Buster Keaton brought his version of blackface into his short film, Neighbors, I suspect he was thoughtful and intended it as a critique. His character had a left side black and right side white, and he showed police attack him when he showed the black side and leave him alone when he showed the right side. Did he prick consciences or exploit race? From the distance of 100 years, it’s hard to make a judgement. Star Trek famously used a similar device in Let That Be Your Last Battlefield to explicitly attack racism. Was that episode, in itself, racist? Or justified?

Second, including something big creates opportunities for better storytelling. Matters of importance reveal character. Good characters reveal new dimensions in big issues that too often are presented with cliches instead of insights. Not giving race, sexism, bullying, abuse, trauma, bigotry, and a host of other issues that separate us from others and ourselves their full due, diminishes stories by eliminating fresh understandings and authentic, specific imagery.

Note 1: Even honest, careful attempts at dealing with deep issues can be unsuccessful. This can be because of a lack of skill or insight, or it can be because sensitive issues can been seen by different audiences in different ways. Birth of a Nation, once consider essential cinema, is horrendous. Gone with the Wind is still beloved, but it makes me (and others) squirm. Othello sits on the knife edge, but I think we’re passed the time where we’ll see the protagonist played by a white person.  

Note 2: Humor complicates this. It can elevate the trivial to something more profound because the protagonists usually are obsessed and become their own worst enemies. It can also slip past our defenses to smuggle in insights (Slaughterhouse Five).

So, both in terms of responsibility and in terms of being a better storyteller, it is good to avoid trivialization. But how? Here’s an incomplete list of suggestions:

    1.    Challenge your assumptions. This obviously goes for forays into cultures, ethnicities, and sexual orientations that are not your own. But it also applies to the familiar that is too familiar. It’s notable that both Norman Mailer and John Updike won the Bad Sex in Fiction Award.
    2.    Punch up. It’s usually a bad idea to mock or villainize those who have less privilege than you do. Even peers may be too vulnerable. Those with a lot of privilege fall into the category of those who can defend themselves and are less likely to be unjustly hurt. As Finley Dunne said, “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” But be wary of cliche villains. Make them individual. And know they are the heroes of their own stories.
    3.    Never discount suffering and sacrifice. For example, childhood abuse pops up as a reason for stoic heroes and cruel villains, but such experiences (shared by many readers/audience members) are complicated and don’t result in one-note character traits. They are pervasive and dealt with by various strategies and adaptations. They don’t need to take over the story, but they can’t just provide simple explanations.
    4.    Courage should be honored. We are all wounded. It defeats some. If your character has been deeply traumatized and hangs on to still be functional and positive (or even rises to become more empathetic and caring), that should show up and be celebrated.
    5.    Dig deep. You do not need to become the world expert on every issue, hardship, and heartache. But it’s good to set as a goal to research long enough to discover something unexpected and important.
    6.    Collect anecdotes. Find individual reflections, those statements from people who know that are embedded in real-world contexts. If you really know three by heart, you have guides to test your choices.
    7.    Understand and appreciate the barriers and obstacles. People struggle to be included or to make themselves whole face challenges. Some of these are cultural. Some are difficult because of the characteristics (shyness, intelligence, temperament) of the individual. All need to be recognized and explored in terms of specifics, not generalities.
    8.    Moments matter. Reflect on your own responses to important life challenges. What overwhelmed you as a teen might not challenge you today. Bringing your opinions and principles back to a time decades ago could be wrenching. Most importantly, think in terms of sequence. The order and pace of events and understandings that marked you probably matter. As an exercise to engage with this idea, it might be good to write a page about a time you were embarrassed or betrayed.
    9.    Admit limitations. If you have a deep understanding of something that should not be trivialized, you can present it through the eyes of an experienced character. If you don’t, consider presenting social and psychological issues through the eyes of someone who is naive. And make the limitations of the character obvious. This helps to alert the reader and prevent over-claiming expertise.
    10.    Truth test. When in doubt, check it out. I’m not a big fan of sensitivity reads. I worry that individuals tasked with representing their demographics prioritize being offended over entering stories. Does anything provocative survive such a test? But I do believe in showing work to people who have different, relevant experiences and seriously considering their comments. In my opinion, this may be best if the people you show the work to are those you know and trust. People who want you to succeed instead of wanting you to stop.

Daring to include what is sensitive, vulnerable to criticism, and larger than yourself is essential to good work (and good writing), so I hope this post does not discourage or dissuade anyone from taking on anything your muse suggests. What I hope is that I’ve provided some ways to check or repair stories that don’t give issues the dignity they deserve.