Portraying Bigotry

 
One of the thorniest issues when it comes to analysing media from a social justice perspective is the concept of portraying prejudice and bigotry. After all, bigotry exists, bigoted people exist, at some point we’ll expect some bigoted characters showing up.

And that’s not a bad thing - in fact, erasing prejudice and pretending it doesn’t exist is far from ideal. To not show prejudice in times and places where prejudiced would be common or rife can be a denial that that prejudice exists, especially if you are showing everyone in that area and era as gloriously accepting of all minorities. In many ways it’s a form of erasure to do this or a rewriting of the world - both present and historic. The problem is portraying prejudice in a way that doesn’t perpetuate it - and too often writers use this argument of “realistic portrayal” as an excuse to produce some severely bigoted work.

So how to portray bigotry without producing a book or show that should come with its own trigger warning or will make the minority in question want to eat your liver?

Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, is that prejudiced portrayal really necessary? Sometimes the presence of bigotry is not only unnecessary, but it’s down right confusing, especially in speculative fiction. In an alternate world with an entirely different religion, culture even different species, is there a reason why women are dealing with misogyny? So much else had changed, why not this? Or, in the distant future, between the stars with more curiously-humanoid-aliens than you could shake a phaser at, do we still need racism? This can reach the point of almost parody - I’ve seen avatars of Greek gods - ancient Greek gods - losing their shit over men kissing. The Greeks!

It’s bemusing that, in these worlds where everything can be so different from our own, prejudice is considered inviolate. When all else in history can be changed, when the truly fantastic can be introduced, when we have magic, vampires, aliens and plot holes you can drive a bus through, it seems ridiculous to decide that bigotry is just something that must remain. And I think every social justice media critic in the world is tired of someone explaining the absolute necessity of “historical accuracy” in a series that has freaking dragons.

But even aside from fantasy worlds where you’ve decided to, bewilderingly, include real world bigotry; there is plenty of bigotry shown in works that are closer to our world and we have to ask “why is this necessary?” Does this prejudice actually add anything to the story or development or anything at all? One of the things that annoyed us so much about season 1 of American Horror Story is the amount of bigotry that was presented was completely gratuitous - it did nothing for the story to have the realtor use gay slurs to describe the previous occupants of the house, or even half of the many other problematic incidents on the show. Throwing in bigotry for the sheer hell of it, to an extent where it seems almost out of place sometimes, doesn’t help anyone.

Ok, you’ve looked at the bigotry and it is an absolute essential part of setting the world, the characters and the story. It would be wrong to exclude it - so how to include it without supporting it? Simple - by making it unsupportable.

Don’t make it funny, or casual, or accepted by the whole cast (as was the problem with American Horror Story season 1 in many ways), don’t present it as a quirk or minor issue. Don’t let it go unchallenged. That challenge is what stops a portrayal of prejudice into something that supports prejudice. Obviously that challenge can come in the form of a loud lecture or denouncement - but, contrary to what the objectors say, you don’t have to shoehorn a clumsy PSA into the middle of your story. That's a straw man, there are innumerable ways you can challenge the prejudice you've presented

GBLT characters in The Parasol Protectorate Series

One of the saddest things we can come across with any media is something we love - but has a massive problematic issue in the middle of it that slowly poisons it for us. The Parasol Protectorate is a series of books we love and adore for so many reasons. We love Lady Alexia Macon, she’s funny and powerful, we love her relationship, the setting and the plot. Who wouldn't want to read more about Ivy's antics? This could be one of those series that racks up nothing but 5 fang reviews all through - but there was a problem that started in the first book and just grew with each extra novel to intolerable degrees.

Lord Akeldama. And, from that, all of the gay characters in this series.

From the onset of this story, Madame Lefoux wears masculine clothing. She is strong, and highly intelligent.  In and of itself, this character isn’t problematic, until one realises that she is juxtaposed to Lord Akeldama.  The fact that she is so masculine, underscores Akeldama’s femininity and that makes them both read as highly stereotypical.  Again, there are certainly lesbians who are exactly like Madame Lefoux but this is predominantly the image of lesbians in media, unless they are being used as sexual eye candy.

In the first book, Soulless,  Lord Akeldama starts off as very stereotypical gay male. He is extremely effeminate and while there are gay men who are like this, the problem with this type of representation, is that it has come to define gay male sexuality in the media.  To make matters worse, though he is resourceful, he functions as nothing more than the typical gay best friend to Alexia.  Akeldama put the dandies to work for Alexia as well and though we are told they are capable and devious, they, like their leader, are also effeminate.  Biffy for instance, is more than familiar with women’s toilette and is up to date on the latest hairstyles and fashions. All of this is bad enough, but the fact that Carriger then had the dandies working as wedding planners moves their representation from stereotypical, to downright mockery.

This should have been a warning about what is to come.  By Heartless, Lord Akeldama has gone completely off the rails.  What follows is a quote from our review of Heartless.

Akeldama doesn’t walk. He Sashays. He Wafts. He Flounces. He even Minces. Yes, minces. He flourishes his napkin. He is outrageous and fabulous and straight out of central casting for a stereotypical gay caricature.

In a series where everyone else studiously refers to each other by their surnames (as is proper etiquette and is part of the wonderful way this series truly expresses the Victorian era and sensibilities), Akeldama uses pet names. Pomegranate Seed, Lilac Bush, My Hooney Poo (I kid you not), Dew Drop, Dolly Darling (he uses darling a lot). He speaks with lots of itallics so we can see he is emphasising many of his words, darling yes, that classic dramatic, over-emphasised speech of a stereotypical gay man. Why not just have him lisp?

Akeldama owns not one, but two closets. Two closets big enough to be bedrooms. Sacrificing them is a truly shocking event. His clothing is always described (and is immaculate) - and it is always outrageously elaborate - right down to his matching series of jewelled monacles. He and his drones have a ludicrous love of interior decorating.  They’re fascinated by women’s clothes (getting fashion plates from Paris) and Akeldama is near tears when he suggests Alexia dress as a servant to go undercover.  Akeldama has also successfully overcome a vampire’s aversion to citrus - to make him stronger, tougher, harder to kill? No, so he can use lemon juice on his hair.

While Akeldama is the most glaring example, the other gay characters are not free from the same problematic portrayals. Biffy, when he becomes a werewolf, stands out among the much “butcher”, scruffier, hairier, burlier men, who make up the werewolf pack; the straight men are vastly more traditionally masculine. The only werewolf who is more “refined” and “delicate” is Lyall - who is bisexual. It’s hard not to infer a pattern.