An essay exploring the need to read and write diverse narratives

I read ‘Beloved’ recently. Beloved is the Pulitzer winning novel by the African-American author, Toni Morrison. Toni’s novels have all focussed on life as an African American. Her characters have always been unapologetically ‘ethnic’ in their thoughts, actions, and beliefs. She was once asked in an interview if she’d consider writing about white people substantially, to which she had responded –

I have had reviews in the past that have accused me of not writing about White people…as though our lives have no meaning and no depth without the White gaze. And I’ve spent my entire writing life trying to make sure that the White gaze was not the dominant one in any of my White books.

The reason I mention Toni and this interview is because it ties into the TED talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie called ‘The Danger of a Single Story’. Chimamanda grew up in Nigeria as an ardent reader. However, the books she read were predominantly centred on White characters. And so when she started writing, her initial stories were also about White people. Why this struck a chord with me is because I too, at the age of 10, having read dozens of Goosebumps, wrote a story with my cousin. And our story was about a guy called Ethan who ate pasta and worried about his jammed locker in school. Never mind the fact that pasta, back in 2006 was a rare occurrence in my home and I hadn’t seen a locker in my life. But it was the assumption that THESE were the stories that sold and THESE were the people who were interesting enough to be written about, that stayed with me.

I’ve always been a devoted reader but it saddens me to think that I have read more books that have shaped my perspective on what it means to be a Caucasian in America versus what it is to be from the 7 Sisters in India. And I have myself to blame. I distinctly recall picking up a Grisham, a Sheldon, and a Dan Brown when I could’ve picked up a book from Ruskin Bond, Khushwant Singh, or R K Narayan. I did eventually read all 3 of them but my formative years as a reader were heavily based on the former. Whether my choice was driven by social conditioning, the packaging of the books, or the accessibility of the writing, is something I have yet to ponder upon.

The reason this is an issue is that my choice of books and authors provided me multiple stories of what life is, or can be, for the characters that I read about. If I extrapolate my understanding of Africa purely based on the literature I read from the continent (Chinua Achebe’s ‘Things Fall Apart’ and Chimamanda’s ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’), I would conclude that it is a region beset with turmoil and plagued by the horrors of British colonialization. It’s not that my conclusion is false but that it is incomplete.

It is this incompleteness of knowledge which is worrisome. It is reductive. A couple of months ago, I was quite embarrassed to hear a conversation among friends which brought out the most debasing stereotypes about specific ethnicities. And that’s precisely what Chimamanda was talking about in her speech. The danger of presenting a single story about people. And how it can rob them of their humanity because it makes it easier to reduce them to a trait, an action, or an appearance.

Even though we live in a time where it is easiest to find multiple narratives, the world today is a hotbed of divisive politics and racism. It seems as though everyone is out with an ‘Us Vs. Them’ narrative. Why this narrative is needed, I fail to understand. I fail to understand it because based on whatever little I have read, I have come to realize that we all deal with the same issues world over. Whether it is about Estha and Rahel in ‘The God of Small Things’, Charlie in ‘Perks of Being…’ or Okonkwo in ‘Things Fall Apart’, the underlying journey is all about making sense of their lives; the only difference is the way they go about it. And once you grasp it, it becomes hard for you to reduce the person in front of you to a one-dimensional stereotype.

The nature of news reporting today encourages reactions over responses. Most stories are meant for immediate consumption and are forgotten the second something else happens on the planet. And even though we’d like to believe that all of us are capable of sieving fact from narrative, a quick glance at the Comment section suggests otherwise. Humans are cognitive misers. So when you’re expected to keep track of developments and you are hard pressed to remember details, it is convenient to fall back on the one-dimensional, stereotypical narratives pushed onto you. Despite consuming more stories, you reinforce your lopsided beliefs. And so, the cycle goes on.

With this in mind, I am trying to be more mindful of the stories I read. Mindful of the diversity of stories. Mindful of the authors of those stories. Mindful of my interpretation of those stories. There are 7 Billion of us inhabiting this space simultaneously. So the next time you are given an over-simplified narrative of hundreds or thousands of us, take it with a pinch of salt. And if there is a story out there which needs to be heard but isn’t, then I hope you take solace in Toni Morrison’s words –