***TRIGGER WARNINGS: We will be discussing dystopian literature in this article. There will be mentions of slavery, breeding, cannablism and racism)***

I am usually one for a quirky opening, but let's just dive in today.

I propose that the reason a lot of dystopian literature centers white suffering is not just because it is white authors writing it, but because a lot of those white authors are not angry about the current condition of the world. They are afraid of a future where they will have to be.

It is no secret that white dystopian and fantasy authors regularly take the lived experiences of Black and brown communities and write them with white faces at the center. And my premise is that they do that because, in their minds, white people experiencing the horrors that Black and brown people have been through--and are often going through--is the worst case scenario.

They would likely not frame their intentions that way, but it is what is happening. Their dystopian hellscape is just a world where the suffering of the most marginalized has finally reached them.

That should concern us.

Not because it is wrong to be afraid of suffering in the way other people have. But because we should already be afraid.

Centering white suffering in dystopian art, from my perspective, is an admission that we do not see the suffering of those more marginalized than ourselves as significant enough to inspire outrage. It is accidental commentary on our society's unwillingness to recognize the humanity of Black and brown people.

And I want to be clear. I have nothing against white authors looking at their own experiences, suffering, pain or fears. I think there are plenty of important conversations to be had from the position of white characters, but, here is what I need some of you to wrestle with...If you have to be the most effected by a system of oppression in order to be afraid of it, or to care about it, then you are missing the necessary empathy to be useful in the fight for collective liberty.

Change cannot happen until we are capable of seeing the suffering of those at the bottom of the heirarchy and still being angry.

Consider the Handmaids Tale. For those of you who are unfamiliar--which I doubt there will be many--it is a story about a dystopian future where fertitlity has become so dangerously low that world governments have begun to be concerned about the future of the human race. And taken advantage of the destabilization that causes, a religious extremism group (representing Christian nationalism) overthrows the United States government and restructures most of america into a cult where fertile women who buck against the system can be punished by becoming handmaids--which is an organized way of saying they become breeding slaves for the political leaders of their community.

Horrifying concept. And unbelievably challenging story. But it is worth noting that, in this story, Black women are all but removed from the equation. As are all other women of color. Which is wild, because let's be honest about what demographic would be primarily targeted in that type of dystopia (Black and brown women). And let's be honest about how watching their suffering would impact the way that white women perceive that oppression. (I am not suggesting white women want Black women to suffer. I am suggesting that white people OFTEN look at the suffering of Black people and turn a blind eye.)

Historically, marginalized white people have been willing to endure horrific suffering so long as it enabled them to stay positioned above Black and brown people. They have faithfully stood beside their own oppressors and actively helped to keep us from ever having our humanity respected. And while Margarett Atwood does a great job of showing us just how horrific that type of dystopian world would be, her story says something very dishonest about how that horror would play out. And personally, I think honest perspectives matter when it comes to how we discuss systems of oppression and, more importanly, in how we radicalize people against them.

Which is one of the reasons that I am so in love with Black dystopian literature and afrofuturism. Authors like Octavia Butler and N.K. Jemisin have taken conversations being had about the horrific possibilities of the future and engaged with them from the perspectives of the people actively suffering in those worlds right in front of us.

Instead of this might affect you one day too, the conversation needs to shift to why haven't you noticed that these people are suffering?

Which is one of the reasons that I am so in love with Black dystopian literature and afrofuturism. Authors like Octavia Butler and N.K. Jemisin have taken conversations being had about the horrific possibilities of the future and engaged with them from the perspective of the people actively suffering in those worlds right in front of us.

Parable of the Sower (Octavia Butler) doesn't just say the world could get bad. It asks us to address the systems and structures currently leading us there. It actively deconstructs colonial religion, patriarchy and systemic racism right in front of us and cautions us to be honest about who the primary victims of capitalism and imperialism are.

The Broken Earth Trilogy (NK Jemisin) isn't just set in an apocalyptic world. It is exploring a cycle of self-destruction and asking us to examine our methods of human advancement and weigh them against our responsibility for ecological justice.

Tender is the Flesh (Agustina Bazterrica) is not just a story about cannibalism. It is also asking questions about just how effectively capitalism has partnered with systems of oppression like Patriarchy and racism to corrupt society as a whole and the willingness of every day citizens to be complicit in the worst evils in order to protect their own comfort and position within society.

And while no story is perfect and no author is without personal bias, it is incredibly important that, when it comes to artistic conversations about oppression, we engage in those conversations with as honest a look at the way those systems of oppression actually play out in the real world as possible. Which means that regardless of who our central character is, those stories, at the very least, CANNOT ERASE BLACK AND BROWN PEOPLE.

And I want to be abundantly clear. Handmaids Tale is not the only story that does this. There are a slough of stories that attempt to have massive conversations about systemic oppression and the horrific future we could be facing that fail to be honest about who the primary victims of those "imagined" horros would be and the current suffering they "borrowed" those nightmare from.

Consider the Scythe series, by Neil Shusterman. While Shusterman is half North African, he believed himself to be a white man until well into his adult life and writing career. And not only did his ancestry not inform his writing, but he has gone so far as to worry outloud that being open about his North African DNA might alienate his readers, who he appeals to through conversations about "the human experience". And that is clear in this series, which could have been one of the best series to have ever been written, if it weren't for the fact that Shusterman attempts to solve the world's prejudices through erasing our individual identities instead of by deconstrucing the systems that rob us of the necessary perspectives to recognize one another's humanity. Through genetic advancement, all disabilities have been "cured" and every human being on earth shares dna from all races, thereby rendering race obsolute.

The iorny is, this series is about a futuristic dystopian world where an advanced AI has been tasked with creating and maintaining a world-wide utopia through technological, social and enviornmental advances--a utopia that comes at the cost of our humanity. So in a world where Shusterman is asking us to reconcider the cost of any advancement that costs us our humanity, he also firmly asserts that core parts of our identity are expendable.

The list goes on. And it is not all that shocking. One of the core tenants of white supremacy is individualism. As a society, we are taught that it is in our best interest to see the world through our own needs and perspectives, and we are discouraged from approaching the world through intimate community. And it is a lesson that white people, as a whole, are far more succeptible to internalizing than people of color, specifically because our survival often depends on the kind of community that alienates anyone who is prioritizing themself.

Ok, I have so much more I could say, but I think I'll leave it here for now. But let me say this... I am not saying that white authors should not write dystopian literature. But I am saying that dystopian literature cannot effectively challenge the systems it is being written to, so long as it is determined to center the suffering of the least vulnerable. As for how white authors can fix that problem, I do have ideas, but that is a subject for another article.

For now, let me know what you think down below.

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