It’s Black History Month and in the spirit of #weneeddiversebooks (#wndb) because Twitter likes it short) I’m highlighting Black authors. First up is Nalo Hopkinson, an Afro-Carribean-Canadian. I first read Hopkinson in late 2013 when I picked up Unnatural Creatures (her short story is toward the end) but I didn’t actively start looking for things she’d written until I happened upon Sister Mine (thanks BPL renovation and my wont to wander). This collection of short stories, a speech, and an interview was nothing like Sister Mine (no pop culture reference, deities acting poorly, or a woman figuring herself out) but I loved it all the same. What this collection has is realism and comment on society than escape to fantasy. This collection has vulnerability and truths that anyone can draw strength from and also learn what a well-spoken Black woman thinks about the state of race relations.

1) Your work can make someone else’s day, be something they recommend to friends. You’re still going to need a money-job.
Hopkinson talks about being destitute and in poor health, as well as continuing challenges (ADHD and fibromyalgia) that led to a “near loss of [her] writing career.” Hopkinson says having “a professorship that is going a long way toward stabilizing [her] income.”

2) Be well read.
Hopkinson talks about the many diverse books by her bedside table. Being a writer means being a reader but it also means engaging in more than just writing. Hopkinson designs fabric and is an avid sewer. Even if you’re going to write a book on writing, you first need to prove you can write (or edit or get a book sold).

3) Own yourself and be open-minded.
Hopkinson talks about “where your word baby develops fingers and toes and eyes and starts looking back at you and reaching for things.” Then mentions “just how ableist a metaphor that is.” Hopkinson does not pull punches. In her speech, published in his book, she delivers this line that I love:

“You say: ‘But I’m not the one who enslaved your people. That was my ancestors.’
Primary translation: ‘I benefit from the inequities that were institutionalised before my birth, and I have no interest in doing anything to disrupt that comfortable state of affairs.’
Secondary translation: ‘I feel guilt about this stuff, but it’s bigger than me. I’m powerless.’
Tertiary translation (from-you-know-who): ‘Suck it up, bitches.'”

I’m working on the third one. I often hold my tongue because I’m tired of fighting battles I’m going to lose and seldom figure out when there is a fight I need to pick versus one I want to. Part of that is because I’m tired of how many people will tell me I’m not a woman because of they don’t agree with what I’m doing or I’m not Black because of how I was raised or I’m not a geek because I like Star Trek and Star Wars and comics (Marvel over DC).