Opening The Can Of Worms
Racist Language
Last week it was the elephant in the room, this week it’s opening a can of worms – yes, May is cliché month!
Like it or not, we live in a society where racism still exists, and if we as writers wish to reflect reality then it is something we need to consider. This was something that I was forced to grapple with when writing my 2018 DCI Warren Jones novel, The Common Enemy.
The book centres around the murder of the leader of a far-right extremist party, during a march against the opening of a so-called ‘super-mosque’ in my fictional town of Middlesbury.
By necessity, the book was populated with extreme racists, as well as members of Middlesbury’s Muslim and Sikh communities.
The simple fact is that if I wanted the book to feel authentic, I had to realistically portray the attitudes of these characters and that included the offensive language used by them.
I’m not going to lie; writing this book took me well outside my comfort zone.
I am a white man of English heritage. I was brought up in an ethnically diverse city and was taught from an early age that certain words and phrases are deeply offensive; they simply aren’t part of my normal vocabulary.
Writing them was hard for me, and I was extremely conscious that reading them would be deeply uncomfortable for many of my readers. My series is far from cosy, but this was an aspect of society that I had not previously explored.
When does it switch from authentic to gratuitous?
It was a given that my white supremacists were going to use the N-word, the P-word and other pejorative terms. But I was keen not to have the manuscript dripping with these words and so I had to think about ways of finding a balance between minimising their use and writing an authentic story.
How can you tread this line?
Use the terms occasionally – to give a ‘flavour’ of the language they would use, but in other instances, simply allude to them.
For example, report dialogue ‘second hand’ rather than deliver it.
“Joe Blog’s account of the incident, delivered in typically offensive fashion, matched that of other witnesses.”
If the incident in question involved non-whites, and the character Joe Blogs has been previously established as a foul-mouthed racist, then your reader can fill in the gaps for themselves without you needing to spell the words out explicitly.
Actually use the terms ‘N-word’ or ‘P-word’.
If a person is reporting dialogue second-hand, and is themselves not racist, then they often won’t say those terms in full. It can look clunky, but then it feels that way in real-life. The person is already rewording the language to make it more comfortable for them to say, so it probably will feel unnatural.
For example.
“He’s a real bully, officer,” the man looked uncomfortable, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, “A couple of times I heard him call the old lady next door a ‘lazy N-word’, if you know what I mean.”
or
“He’s always wiping graffiti off the wall.” He blushed. “‘Go Home P-word’, that sort of thing.”
Interrupt their speech.
Modern police officers simply won’t tolerate a foul-mouthed racist rant, they can and will insist that witnesses and those they are interviewing moderate their language. Something that isn’t always appreciated, is that the law in England & Wales regarding hate speech doesn’t necessitate it being directed at the protected group that it concerns. In other words, a white person over-hearing racist language about Asians can report it as a racist incident, even if there are no Asian people within earshot.
The language needs to be specific to the era, the society and the character.
Language evolves at an incredible pace, and terms that were acceptable just a few years ago are now no longer appropriate today.
The term ‘coloured’ was once seen as a relatively inoffensive way to refer to black or Asian people (at least by white people). That is no longer the case. In recent years, the term ‘People Of Colour’ (POC) has become a more favoured term. Similarly, ‘half-caste’ is now no longer acceptable, with ‘mixed race’ or sometimes ‘bi-racial’ more appropriate.
But as a writer, you have to consider if the newest terminology is the most appropriate language for your book. Characters in a novel set thirty years ago wouldn’t realistically use the term POC. Similarly, older characters in a modern setting may still be using terms that have gone out of fashion. Is it realistic that an elderly white woman refers to her bi-racial neighbour that way, or is she more likely to describe them in an interview as ‘half-caste’? It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s an overt racist, just somewhat out of touch with the latest trends in language.
An extreme example of this involves a former flatmate of mine from (very) rural Ireland, who in the year 2000 asked me if I wanted anything from the P-shop when he popped round there. He was absolutely mortified when I explained to him how that word was simply not acceptable in England and told him a little about how the word’s usage had mutated from a simple abbreviation of Pakistani to something far more offensive and sinister.
Used correctly, their use of language can inform the reader about a character.
For example.
“Look, DCI Jones. You’re not racist and neither am I, but we both know that since they started letting the Asians move in, the area has gone down hill. Of course two white blokes like us could never say it out loud, we’d be crucified.”
Think about what we’ve just learned about this character.
First of all, he clearly is a racist – just putting the word ‘the’ in front of Asians telegraphs this. However, he has enough self-awareness to realise that he doesn’t want to be perceived as such, hence the ‘I’m not racist but…’ caveat. He is also aware that his views are increasingly unpopular and so he is seeking approval from someone he hopes is a kindred spirit.
Is it the writer speaking or the character?
One of the inescapable problems that all writers face is that some readers can be so drawn into a novel that they find it hard to separate the views expressed in the book from those held by the author. This is especially true of the narrator. For those writing first person – in other words ‘”I did this”, “I thought that” – it can make the reader feel as if the writer is sitting down and telling them a story about events that happened to them and sharing their innermost emotions and feelings. Obviously that is what a good writer strives for, so it seems a cruel irony that readers who don’t know the author personally can subconsciously imbue them with character traits and attitudes that bear no resemblance to them in real life.
I am fortunate enough to write in the third person, and my narration is most closely associated with DCI Warren Jones, who I have openly admitted shares many of my personal views. This means that I can disassociate myself somewhat from the more unpleasant individuals that I write about through Warren’s thoughts. To reinforce this in The Common Enemy, I made certain to draw the reader’s attention to Warren’s personal revulsion at the views expressed by some of the racist characters in the book.
Avoid the temptation to write a ‘pantomime villain’.
When writing about characters that you find personally offensive, it is all too easy to fall into the trap of giving them no redeeming features whatsoever.
In The Common Enemy, my far-right extremists are violent, offensive thugs. Yet they still have loved-ones, they perform acts of kindness and they have a sense of humour: in other words, they are human!
One of the reviewers of the book stated that they expected it to “tar anyone right of centre as an extremist” but were pleasantly surprised that it was more balanced. Although it should be said that they then gave away their true feelings on the subject by objecting to my use of the ‘meaningless term’ islamophobia (it isn’t) and refusing to accept that the police would waste resources on a hate crime unit (these exist in real-life, and the police do monitor online race-hate groups), and criticising my apparent lack of research.
Whilst I’m never going to lie awake at night worrying that I may have offended some thin-skinned racist, I found the review rather satisfying, as I felt it showed that I had done my job as a writer.
Draw your own red lines.
We all have our own views on this subject and there are lines that we don’t personally feel comfortable crossing. For example, I don’t feel I am able to write dialogue between black people, where they refer to themselves using the N-word.
There is a belief by some in the black community that it is possible to ‘reclaim’ the word. It, and an alternate spelling, are used in some forms of black music, and dialogue between (usually) young people. However, its use is nuanced and like a lot of language it evolves rapidly. As a white person who is not part of that community, there is a strong risk that any attempts by me to use it will be clumsy and unintentionally offensive. Furthermore, it is likely to age the book – something I might get away with in 2018 may make me cringe with embarrassment five years later.
I am also conscious of that fact that there are many who don’t agree that the word can or should be ‘reclaimed’. Some years ago, I saw a documentary interviewing some of the people who lived through the American civil rights movement of the 1960s, and experienced horrific racism in the decades before. I was especially struck by an old lady whose first-hand experience of that word meant that she found it deeply upsetting when she heard young black people using it. For her, it will forever evoke memories of violence and fear.
So for those reasons, I will steer well clear of doing it.
Final thoughts.
Racially-charged language will always be a potential minefield. I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to dip my toes into this particular paddling pool. However, the desire to write The Common Enemy had been nagging me for several years and with racism and extremism always close to the top of the news agenda, it was something that I felt I could no longer ignore.
Ultimately, all that any writer can do is try to write the best story that they can. Crime fiction provides the opportunity to explore the most topical of issues and we should not shy away from them.
My advice would be to do your research (watch documentaries, and read articles from all sides of the issue) and then run it past trusted readers.
Doubtless there are things that I have got wrong, and I’ll listen and take on board any valid criticism, but touch wood, in the three years since the book was published, it has been generally well-received, with no serious objections that I am aware of, and I found it a rewarding experience.
Like it or not, we live in a society where racism still exists, and if we as writers wish to reflect reality then it is something we need to consider. This was something that I was forced to grapple with when writing my 2018 DCI Warren Jones novel, The Common Enemy.
The book centres around the murder of the leader of a far-right extremist party, during a march against the opening of a so-called ‘super-mosque’ in my fictional town of Middlesbury.
By necessity, the book was populated with extreme racists, as well as members of Middlesbury’s Muslim and Sikh communities.
The simple fact is that if I wanted the book to feel authentic, I had to realistically portray the attitudes of these characters and that included the offensive language used by them.
I’m not going to lie; writing this book took me well outside my comfort zone.
I am a white man of English heritage. I was brought up in an ethnically diverse city and was taught from an early age that certain words and phrases are deeply offensive; they simply aren’t part of my normal vocabulary.
Writing them was hard for me, and I was extremely conscious that reading them would be deeply uncomfortable for many of my readers. My series is far from cosy, but this was an aspect of society that I had not previously explored.
When does it switch from authentic to gratuitous?
It was a given that my white supremacists were going to use the N-word, the P-word and other pejorative terms. But I was keen not to have the manuscript dripping with these words and so I had to think about ways of finding a balance between minimising their use and writing an authentic story.
How can you tread this line?
Use the terms occasionally – to give a ‘flavour’ of the language they would use, but in other instances, simply allude to them.
For example, report dialogue ‘second hand’ rather than deliver it.
“Joe Blog’s account of the incident, delivered in typically offensive fashion, matched that of other witnesses.”
If the incident in question involved non-whites, and the character Joe Blogs has been previously established as a foul-mouthed racist, then your reader can fill in the gaps for themselves without you needing to spell the words out explicitly.
Actually use the terms ‘N-word’ or ‘P-word’.
If a person is reporting dialogue second-hand, and is themselves not racist, then they often won’t say those terms in full. It can look clunky, but then it feels that way in real-life. The person is already rewording the language to make it more comfortable for them to say, so it probably will feel unnatural.
For example.
“He’s a real bully, officer,” the man looked uncomfortable, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, “A couple of times I heard him call the old lady next door a ‘lazy N-word’, if you know what I mean.”
or
“He’s always wiping graffiti off the wall.” He blushed. “‘Go Home P-word’, that sort of thing.”
Interrupt their speech.
Modern police officers simply won’t tolerate a foul-mouthed racist rant, they can and will insist that witnesses and those they are interviewing moderate their language. Something that isn’t always appreciated, is that the law in England & Wales regarding hate speech doesn’t necessitate it being directed at the protected group that it concerns. In other words, a white person over-hearing racist language about Asians can report it as a racist incident, even if there are no Asian people within earshot.
The language needs to be specific to the era, the society and the character.
Language evolves at an incredible pace, and terms that were acceptable just a few years ago are now no longer appropriate today.
The term ‘coloured’ was once seen as a relatively inoffensive way to refer to black or Asian people (at least by white people). That is no longer the case. In recent years, the term ‘People Of Colour’ (POC) has become a more favoured term. Similarly, ‘half-caste’ is now no longer acceptable, with ‘mixed race’ or sometimes ‘bi-racial’ more appropriate.
But as a writer, you have to consider if the newest terminology is the most appropriate language for your book. Characters in a novel set thirty years ago wouldn’t realistically use the term POC. Similarly, older characters in a modern setting may still be using terms that have gone out of fashion. Is it realistic that an elderly white woman refers to her bi-racial neighbour that way, or is she more likely to describe them in an interview as ‘half-caste’? It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s an overt racist, just somewhat out of touch with the latest trends in language.
An extreme example of this involves a former flatmate of mine from (very) rural Ireland, who in the year 2000 asked me if I wanted anything from the P-shop when he popped round there. He was absolutely mortified when I explained to him how that word was simply not acceptable in England and told him a little about how the word’s usage had mutated from a simple abbreviation of Pakistani to something far more offensive and sinister.
Used correctly, their use of language can inform the reader about a character.
For example.
“Look, DCI Jones. You’re not racist and neither am I, but we both know that since they started letting the Asians move in, the area has gone down hill. Of course two white blokes like us could never say it out loud, we’d be crucified.”
Think about what we’ve just learned about this character.
First of all, he clearly is a racist – just putting the word ‘the’ in front of Asians telegraphs this. However, he has enough self-awareness to realise that he doesn’t want to be perceived as such, hence the ‘I’m not racist but…’ caveat. He is also aware that his views are increasingly unpopular and so he is seeking approval from someone he hopes is a kindred spirit.
Is it the writer speaking or the character?
One of the inescapable problems that all writers face is that some readers can be so drawn into a novel that they find it hard to separate the views expressed in the book from those held by the author. This is especially true of the narrator. For those writing first person – in other words ‘”I did this”, “I thought that” – it can make the reader feel as if the writer is sitting down and telling them a story about events that happened to them and sharing their innermost emotions and feelings. Obviously that is what a good writer strives for, so it seems a cruel irony that readers who don’t know the author personally can subconsciously imbue them with character traits and attitudes that bear no resemblance to them in real life.
I am fortunate enough to write in the third person, and my narration is most closely associated with DCI Warren Jones, who I have openly admitted shares many of my personal views. This means that I can disassociate myself somewhat from the more unpleasant individuals that I write about through Warren’s thoughts. To reinforce this in The Common Enemy, I made certain to draw the reader’s attention to Warren’s personal revulsion at the views expressed by some of the racist characters in the book.
Avoid the temptation to write a ‘pantomime villain’.
When writing about characters that you find personally offensive, it is all too easy to fall into the trap of giving them no redeeming features whatsoever.
In The Common Enemy, my far-right extremists are violent, offensive thugs. Yet they still have loved-ones, they perform acts of kindness and they have a sense of humour: in other words, they are human!
One of the reviewers of the book stated that they expected it to “tar anyone right of centre as an extremist” but were pleasantly surprised that it was more balanced. Although it should be said that they then gave away their true feelings on the subject by objecting to my use of the ‘meaningless term’ islamophobia (it isn’t) and refusing to accept that the police would waste resources on a hate crime unit (these exist in real-life, and the police do monitor online race-hate groups), and criticising my apparent lack of research.
Whilst I’m never going to lie awake at night worrying that I may have offended some thin-skinned racist, I found the review rather satisfying, as I felt it showed that I had done my job as a writer.
Draw your own red lines.
We all have our own views on this subject and there are lines that we don’t personally feel comfortable crossing. For example, I don’t feel I am able to write dialogue between black people, where they refer to themselves using the N-word.
There is a belief by some in the black community that it is possible to ‘reclaim’ the word. It, and an alternate spelling, are used in some forms of black music, and dialogue between (usually) young people. However, its use is nuanced and like a lot of language it evolves rapidly. As a white person who is not part of that community, there is a strong risk that any attempts by me to use it will be clumsy and unintentionally offensive. Furthermore, it is likely to age the book – something I might get away with in 2018 may make me cringe with embarrassment five years later.
I am also conscious of that fact that there are many who don’t agree that the word can or should be ‘reclaimed’. Some years ago, I saw a documentary interviewing some of the people who lived through the American civil rights movement of the 1960s, and experienced horrific racism in the decades before. I was especially struck by an old lady whose first-hand experience of that word meant that she found it deeply upsetting when she heard young black people using it. For her, it will forever evoke memories of violence and fear.
So for those reasons, I will steer well clear of doing it.
Final thoughts.
Racially-charged language will always be a potential minefield. I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to dip my toes into this particular paddling pool. However, the desire to write The Common Enemy had been nagging me for several years and with racism and extremism always close to the top of the news agenda, it was something that I felt I could no longer ignore.
Ultimately, all that any writer can do is try to write the best story that they can. Crime fiction provides the opportunity to explore the most topical of issues and we should not shy away from them.
My advice would be to do your research (watch documentaries, and read articles from all sides of the issue) and then run it past trusted readers.
Doubtless there are things that I have got wrong, and I’ll listen and take on board any valid criticism, but touch wood, in the three years since the book was published, it has been generally well-received, with no serious objections that I am aware of, and I found it a rewarding experience.
What are your thoughts about using racist language in books? Is it a complete taboo, or do writers have a duty to reflect the uglier side of human nature?
As always, please share your thoughts here or on social media.
Until next time,
best wishes,
Paul.
