I think about things. I’m an older white author from Yorkshire. And the stories which come to me aren’t often set in Yorkshire (though it does happen). They begin as stories of strangers in strange places. Those strangers start to become fleshed-out characters – and then, occasionally, they turn out to be Black characters.

I tend to write through vision. Nothing mystical – I mean that I ‘see’ a story inside my head – usually a character, sometimes a snapshot scene, or a place where something is going to happen. And that shows me who is the natural narrator or protagonist. If I go against that, by levering in a different main character, the story usually goes horribly wrong and has to be scrapped.

Last year, I was in a bad mood with certain pieces of early 20^th Century weird and historical fiction I’d been reading. A few good, or even great plots, but the most appalling caricatures of non-white people. Specific stories by Edgar Wallace and by H P Lovecraft spring to mind.

In response I wrote a tale, wisely or not, about a group of Black African villagers facing a kind of Lovecraftian horror in the 1920s. Why wouldn’t they react as any human beings, using their smarts, their best resources, their local knowledge and such equipment as they had to meet such a threat? What made an intelligent African villager less able to face mind-numbing horror than anyone else? Nothing, it seemed to me.

There’s no such thing as a generic African villager, obviously. So I drew on an area I’d read more about than others, the colonial Igbo territories in Eastern Nigeria. I tried to reflect reality as best I could within what was essentially a weird horror story – a fantasy, mixing real and invented geography. I’m sure I got some of it wrong, but that one was an attempt to ‘balance the scales’ after reading the Wallace. A Black writer familiar with Wallace’s work might have done it even better.

I’ve written other Black characters, mostly living in the 1920s and 1930s with specific backgrounds (hence the photos used here). I didn’t do it because they were ‘exotic’. I wasn’t trying to shoe-horn Black characters into stories to gain credit, look cool or ride a wave. As I say, I’m an ageing Yorkshireman – too late for that.

The ideas come to me naturally, in the same way that a Victorian mill tragedy with supernatural overtones (and an entirely white cast) might come to me the next day. Some I squash as too far beyond my knowledge, too inappropriate. Others I try. And I’ve really pondered about it.

I am not entirely dim. I think there are genuine issues when you do this sort of thing. I’ve also heard the counter-argument that all writing is made-up stuff, and you should just write whatever you want, with whoever you want in it. People can challenge me about my views – I’m an open, interested participant, not an immovable object.

But in so many stories the default position is to use white characters, even white middle-class characters. It can be seen as a safe option, and supposedly right for the market (I disagree, obviously). For me, this approach is an unchallenging, non-inclusive one that gives little thought to a wider world. I find it boring after a while, unless there’s an obvious reason due to setting (there can be). Is it true that  white middle class writers should only delve into their own kind?

A Black woman in a roadhouse in 1927 is as human and complex as a white guy in a townhouse in 2017. If I’m any sort of writer, I should be able to learn and empathise with both. They should both be potential protagonists or antagonists.

So I don’t believe that it’s inherently wrong to write about characters and cultures outside of your direct experience. It isn’t inherently wrong for white people to write Black characters (or Han Chinese, or Inuit ones). But it is more demanding, and it should be. Its purpose has to be exploratory, not exploitative, because there certainly is such a thing as cultural mangling.

I see cultural mangling as grabbing trinkets from other cultures and putting them on white characters – or equally bad, on cardboard Black characters – because it looks good, without any thought. I’m also sympathetic to the idea that the more marginalised, oppressed or disenfranchised the culture/group, the more it’s better for the words to come from its own members, in one way or another.

It is wrong to do this sort of thing without holding yourself responsible for what you produce. Whenever you write about someone you don’t know, someone who has experiences different from our own, you risk creating a stereotype. You risk taking a facile look at a person, a culture or a situation which you don’t fully understand. If you really mess it up, then it becomes either offensive or ludicrous. On the other hand, to not try at all…

It goes much further than skin colour, of course. Black African isn’t the same as Black American, Black Caribbean or Black British, though they may share root concerns and histories. A Black female IT manager in Britain is unlikely to have had the same experiences as a Black male teacher in Detroit, or a cop in Lagos.

I once made the mistake of chatting about religion to the amiable (Black) father of one of my kid’s friends. Turned out he was a conservative, rampant Islamophobe, amongst other things. Skin colour/racial identity was the least of the barriers between us. The refugee Iraqi greengrocer up the road didn’t know the viewpoint of a Shia militiaman in Basra, or a Kurdish woman in Northern Iraq. And my local Indian off-license guy said he didn’t understand people from Pakistan, had no empathy with them.

There was plenty to learn from those three individuals – each was a human being, not a ‘representative’ for others in different circumstances.

Even limited knowledge can’t protect you from misunderstanding and misrepresentation. But if you write outside your own life, you can employ empathy, imagination – and research – to try and bridge some of the gap. When I write Black characters, I try to consider historical or cultural aspects which might have impacted on them, as well as the human strengths and weaknesses we share. Including things which I’ve never directly encountered, and which shouldn’t be just made up. And at times, you may well need a Black friend (or a few) to go through your stuff and be able to say honestly what they think about this aspect. Listen to them.

It’s a matter of respect. Respect for the culture, group, or person you’re writing about, and for the reader. Which leads to another aspect of my argument. It’s incredibly important that Black creators produce Black characters. I’m not just talking politically here – I have two personal reasons for saying it.

Firstly, I have a family with younger members in it. Were they Black, I would want them to grow up seeing Black people amongst their role models. I would want them to read books and watch films which had exciting or moving Black characters with whom they could identify.

Ideally, I would want them to have role models of all skin colours and genders/identities, and I would want them to have this chance, especially when young. Which means there has to be good, easily available SF, fantasy and weird fiction, with Black writers’ faces on the back cover – and Black characters on the front cover. And hey, those kids might want to write themselves one day.

Secondly, I write (mostly) in the field of strange fiction. I want to read unusual stories, different stories, and the best way to do that is to be able to see tales from many, many different creators. There will be takes on the weird which need a Black (or other) writer to explore properly, bringing a different perspective and history than mine. And as suggested above, there will be stories I’ve thought up that might only really work if written by a Black writer. As a writer and as a reader I want that diversity.

I take this aspect of my own work seriously, and so I want to be better informed. The very process of including Black characters has taken me to places I’ve never been. It’s exposed me to aspects of Black history and experiences which I might not have encountered otherwise. It’s a growth thing.

My opinion isn’t that valuable. It’s here because I have the space to express it, and because it does have a bearing on my fiction. You can learn more than I can ever capture through actually reading or buying weird and speculative fiction by Black authors. Through finding out about the reality of black history. And by giving support to people who are helping further things like black SF, fantasy and steamfunk in an exciting way.

I believe that we can move beyond our own lives and potentially write characters of many different creeds, colours and cultures – if we’re willing to learn. Even to learn when we probably shouldn’t do it. And admit that sometimes we’ll get it wrong. We can try, with good heart and with effort, to write out the characters who come to us.

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END-NOTE: I’ve read a lot of articles related to the above – on cultural celebration, cultural appropriation and the kitchen sink. It’s possible to have your head explode trying to navigate it all. ‘Writing the Other’ by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward is useful to get your mind working if you’re a writer.

Balogun Ojetade’s blog is always a great source of news on Black creators, https://chroniclesofharriet.com, and Milton Davis, also in the States, does a lot of energetic creatorism.  We try to regularly feature cool work by non-white creators here. Because it’s fun, not because we preach…

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P.S. greydogtales is on holiday until the weekend, so we look forward to seeing you in a few days.

A quick reading roundup today. We’re back in the weird and speculative world. greydogtales doesn’t hide at home with its paws over its eyes – we love signposting new and adventurous things. We find a lot of fine stuff by linking up with people in various specific movements, such as the Folk Horror Revival, and the State of Black Science Fiction – both have large, active Facebook Groups.

Despite their names, these are broad churches. FHR covers a wealth of folklore, weird art, mythic, spiritual and landscape issues; SBSF is home to all sorts of speculative fantasy and horror projects. Respect where they’re coming from, catch up on their agendas, and you’ll find some very cool works.

Continue reading NEWBORN HEROES, GODS AND MONSTERS →

There is an old man in Africa. You might find him interesting, especially as this is Black History Month. Today we’re talking African myth and lore. And we’re visiting the Yoruba and the Orishas, which means we have to mention Shango. We’re also joined by Ziki Nelson, who shares a media take on orishas later on below. And we throw in some black superhero thrills.

That old man’s name is Lamidi Olayiwola Adeyemi III, and he is said to be the traditional ruler of the Oyo Empire, in south-west Nigeria. As an alaafin, he is the inheritor of Oranmiyan, Great Prince of Ife, who found the Oyo Empire some time early in the 14^th Century (CE).

What has this to do with the price of salt-cod? Hang in there…

There are about 44 million Yoruba people(which is about the same as the population of Spain if you need a European reference point), most of them living in Nigeria. That might be enough to talk about in itself, but what catches the attention is way in which the Yoruba belief system spread much wider than that. During the transatlantic slave trade, some black peoples, including the Yoruba, managed to preserve something of their native religions and lore.

One aspect of this is the continued reverence of orishas (oricha or orixá in Brazil). Put simply, orishas are spirit beings who may be anywhere from intangible to fully manifest in the flesh. They represent facets of God, the Supreme Deity – manifestation of God’s many faces and natures, if you like.

To some they are demi-gods or gods in their own right. They are key in various religious movements, often worshipped or prayed to for their particular areas of patronage – war, justice, fertility, healing and so forth.

We’re not Yoruba experts here at greydogtales (in fact we know more about the Igbo, from eastern Nigeria, oddly enough). However, we do know that orisha worship continued across various parts of the United States, the Caribbean and South America, especially Brazil. Santeria and Candomblé are two variants, and as so often happened in and around the Caribbean, Roman Catholicism got mixed in there as well.

So who are the Orishas themselves? There are a lot  – anywhere from 401 to 17,000, and their exact names vary over time, and between Yorubaland and the branches of belief developed in the Americas. Different branches have slightly different interpretations. These are a few examples, to give you a taste:

• Ellegua/Eshu is the male Orisha of roads and the crossroads, probably the basis of Legba in Haiitian vodu.
• Oya/Yansa, female Orisha of winds and lightning, change and rebirth.
• Oshosi/Oxóssi, male Orisha associated with the hunt, forests, animals, and wealth.
• Oba, female Orisha of marriage and domesticity, supposedly once the wife of Shango.

Each orisha has an associated colour, an appropriate offering and other associations. Some have a number of secondary areas of power or concern. Oxóssi, for example, is associated with blue or green, and suitable sacrifices include goat and guinea-fowl. He’s also linked to contemplation and the arts.

Which brings us to maybe the most ‘popular’ of the Orishas, Shango or Shaango. If people know only one orisha, it’s usually him. And the reason we introduced you to Lamidi Olayiwola Adeyemi III at the start is this – Shango was once the alaafin of the Oyo Kingdom, the third or fourth alaafin depending on who you read. We’re back in the 14^th Century again, by the way.

more from ifareo here

A mortal man, he became an orisha because of his deeds. Shango rules over lightning, thunder, fire, the drums and dance. He’s a fighter, a warrior orisha with quick wits, a quick temper and is the epitomy of virility. In Santeria he is the master of dance and a sorcerer who spits fire. He is often depicted as a powerful young man with a double headed axe, or with two axes. He can also be called Sango (in Nigeria), Chango and Xango.

We’re mentioning the Orishas now because recently, along with a rise in the production of black speculative fiction, there’s been an upsurge of interest in the Orishas – incomic books, games and writing. Which is cool.

So now, not being black ourselves, we hand over to Ziki Nelson, who kindly put together a few examples of orishas in action for greydogtales (the section titles should give you extra links as well).

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Five modern depictions of the Orishas you need to see

When it comes to African mythology, most writers and filmmakers never seem to look past Egypt. However, a group of Yoruba deities known as the Orishas are starting to give the likes of Set and Anubis a run for their money. The Orishas are a group of divine spirits that represent different aspects of reality and nature. From Brazil to Nigeria, the Orishas are loved and revered across the world and this has inspired a number of independent creators to reimagine these deities in a modern context.

1)Shaango

Shaango is an urban fantasy comic created by Los Brignoles, an indie comic book publisher based in France. The story is inspired by Shango, the Orisha of thunder and lighting. We follows Ishan Goran, a youth worker who discovers that he’s the modern incarnation of Shango. The story explores the blurry line between defending the innocent and punishing the wicked as Ishan fluctuates between being a hero to a vigilante. On a side note, Shango is by far the most popular Orisha, he has appeared in both DC and Marvel comics as well as a number of independent publications.

2) Besuoro

It’s not very often you hear African Martial Arts Fantasy in the same sentence but Besouro (aka The Assailant) is the rare (perhaps only) exception. Inspired by the real life exploits of of legendary capoeira fighter, Besouro Mangangá, this film spins a fantastic tale of an Afro-Brazilian fighter bestowed with mystical powers. One of the film’s main characters is Eshu, the Orisha of the crossroad who guides Besuoro on his spiritual journey.

3)Visionary

Created by Comic Republic Nigeria, Visionary is another urban fantasy centred on a blood feud between Shango and Oxossi, the Orisha of the forest. Not much has been revealed about the story yet however, last year Comic Republic released a prequel issue (#0). The prequel begins with an intense battle between Shango and Oxossi and then we’re transported to modern day Lagos.

4)Oya: Rise of the Orisha

Oya: Rise of the Orisha was probably one of the first attempts to reimagine the Orishas in a modern context. Created by Nosa Igbinedion, this short film follows Oya: orisha of the wind. Oya enters the modern world in human form and goes on a mission to stop Eshu, another orisha seeking to plunge the world into Chaos.

5)Yemoja: Rise of the Orisha

Because of the success of this initial Oya, Igbinedion was able to build enough traction to fund a follow up series Yemoja: Rise of the Orisha. This series is another urban fantasy that follows the story of Amina, a young doctor living in Brazil whose life turns upside down when she becomes possessed by Yemoja, the orisha of the sea.

While most of these projects have been relatively small scale productions one can’t help but feel this is just the beginning. Whether it’s comics, movies or books expect to see more of the Orishas. However, it’s also important to recognise that the Orishas are only a small part of a larger body of traditional African stories.

This article was brought to you by Kugali, a database for African narratives. If you want to discover more modern depictions of the Orishas or other African myths Kugali has curated dozens of films, TV shows and comic.

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Our thanks to Ziki, who says of himself: “Ziki is a London based entrepreneur and one of the founders of Kugali. When he’s not stressing out about his company Ziki can be found flying across space and fighting crime … in his dreams of course. Actually, Ziki is working on his first comic book which is due for release later this year.”

You can find Kugali here:

http://www.blog.kugali.com/

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We hope to bring you more in the future. In the meantime we should mention a new comics anthology put together by writer Balogun Ojetade. Balogun is deeply into Afro-retroism – film, fashion or fiction that combines African and/or African American culture with a blend of “retro” styles and futuristic technology.

He’s worked with a number of other black creators, including Milton Davis, who we interviewed last year ( see  the rise of sword and soul), on a wide range of exciting projects. Black Power: The Superhero Anthology is just out. It’s over 300 pages of action, where twenty authors bring new perspectives to the superhero concept in original short superhero stories.

You can check it out for purchase here:

http://amzn.eu/5x6dFbg (UK)

http://a.co/hycG6WQ (US)

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See, that made a nice change from Edwardian supernatural stories, scary novels, detectives and lurchers, didn’t it? Never hurts to broaden your mind – unless you use a hammer. If you want to be warned  where we’re lurching next time, don’t forget to subscribe (top left). Then you can hide in time…