Michael Logan

Novelist, Journalist and other things ending in -ist

Why the Term ‘Reverse Racism’ Should Be Scrapped

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As of late, I’ve been stumbling across a landslide of links to articles and videos posted by friends about the concept of reverse racism, and how it doesn’t exist.
Reverse racism, in case you didn’t know, is when people of colour are accused of making generalized negative comments about the pigmentally challenged (my own PC term, feel free to appropriate it for your personal use if you wish to be sensitive around touchy white folks).
Now, the reason I am writing this on my blog instead of the comments thread on one of these linked pieces is that a white person popping up in such a racism discussion to do anything apart from virtually nod his head in agreement sets pulses all a-flutter.
So, if you have chanced upon this and don’t want to read an opinion that challenges this way of thinking, look away now.


 

The argument is that reverse racism cannot exist because racism only has power, only truly exists, in the context of hundreds of years of systemized oppression of black nations and peoples by white colonials, and the societal and global power imbalances this system of enslaving and marginalizing people of colour has created and perpetuated. White people can’t be targets for racism as they have the whole crushing mechanism of the system behind, granting them ‘white privilege’ and thus miraculous immunity.
So the first thing to say is this: I absolutely agree that reverse racism does not exist, but not for the reasons above. Reverse racism does not exist, because the dictionary definition of racism does not mention anything about the race or colour of the person being racist, or the race or colour of the victim, or, and this is very significant, the scale of the act.
Let’s look at that definition: 
The belief that all members of each race possess characteristics, abilities, or qualities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races.
Let’s be clear: racism happens on an individual level, and can be carried out by a member or members of one race against another. It is not just from white to black; it isn’t even just between white and black. Take any nationality or race in the world and you will find levels of racism against ethnic minorities. Reverse racism does not exist. There is only racism.
My next problem with the way the debate is being framed is that racism in its simplest definition is being conflated with the institutionalized and systemized racism that has oppressed and marginalized millions of people, with the United States being the most obvious example.
Now, is institutional racism largely the preserve of white society? 
Absolutely.
Have people of colour suffered, and do they continue to suffer, huge injustices thanks to white power structures? 
Undoubtedly. 
Can people of colour be racist towards white people? 
Of course they can.
Let me give you a few examples of how this plays out, one from an article I read, and one from my personal experience.
In this article, once again linked to on Facebook by a friend and held up as a reasoned and incisive argument, the author explains why white people can’t suffer racism:
“When I’m online talking to people and a PoC is sharing their experience with racism … Inevitably, here comes a white person either claiming that they have a similar experience because they grew up in an all black neighborhood and got chased on the way home from school a few times, or because their black friend tried to touch their straight hair one time without permission and OMG THAT IS SO RACIST and it is the exact same thing, or some other such bullshittery, and they expect that ignorance to be suffered in silence and with respect. If you are that kid who got chased after school, that’s horrible, and I feel bad for you. And if you are that person who had another person try to touch you without your permission, that was wrong of them, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But dudes, that shit is not racism.
The situations in which you, fellow white person, were involved were unfortunate and inappropriate, this is true. But to claim that these experiences were ‘reverse racism’ both diminishes and minimalizes the real and actual experiences of PoC who really do encounter racism. There is no system of oppression in America that actively works to oppress and subjugate white people. Sorry to break it to you, but your individual suffering is just that, individual. The individuals acting against you do not have the institutionalized power to actively oppress you in every facet of your life, nor would their racism be upheld and supported by government, media, and legislation if they did. Because you’re white.
Reverse racism isn’t real because we live in a culture that supports and enforces whiteness as the norm and PoC as other … When a white person starts talking about reverse racism, what they’re really doing is derailing a conversation to make it about them. Their white privilege leads them to believe that what they say both matters and needs to be heard and is important and the conversation should stop to focus on their perceived ills. You know what? When somebody is talking about racism they have experienced, that conversation is not all about you, nor should you expect it to be, so stop with the derailing and just listen and learn.”
And, just for the hell of it, here’s another example of the argument in a skit by comedian Aamer Rahman.

Now, the first thing to note is that the above blog post explains why I am writing this in my own blog instead of joining in with a discussion. My ‘white privilege’ means that if I try to make any point at all about racism in such a forum, I will be shouted down.
White people can’t cry racism, you see, because those who came before us sinned heavily and because other white people are racist. So, because I am white, nobody can be racist against me and I have no right to complain about racism. 
Do you notice the generalization being made? A generalization that is based on the colour of my skin and nothing else? Where I am being held accountable for power structures and white oppression I neither approve of nor play any role in?
Secondly, in this piece, which is pretty typical of the argument, you can see exactly the conflation of racism and institutionalized racism. 
Now, here’s the thing. White privilege does exist in many countries and, as a white male, I benefit from it. I have never experienced any discrimination or obstacles based on the colour of my skin, and the fact that anybody does is shameful and something that should be consigned to history as quickly as possible. But white privilege does not exclude me from conversations on racism, nor does it prevent other people being racist towards me.
I was in a bar in Nairobi a few months back, waiting for some friends, and fell into conversation with a couple of Kenyan gentlemen enjoying a Tusker at the next table. We chatted for a few minutes, and then the following snippet occurred:
Him: ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Me: ‘Sure.’
Him: ‘Are you racist?’
Me: ‘Why are you even asking that?’
Him: ‘Because all you white people are racist.’
Now, as then, I make no comment. Because I’m pretty sure I don’t have to.
I’ve had many such discussions in Kenya. Dozens of times somebody has started a sentence with, ‘You white people …’
And you know what? While this may not be damaging to me, while there may not be an entire racist power structure behind people saying such things, while the people who say these things aren’t (for the most part) saying them to be rude or offensive or oppressive, these remarks are racist because they are making negative generalizations about a person based on their race. It’s really that simple. 
I would like two very simple changes to occur in this debate. I would like people to stop using the term ‘reverse racism’. I would like people to stop conflating the word ‘racism’ with the term ‘institutionalized racism’, and accept that racism can and does occur in all directions. Neither of those changes “diminishes and minimalizes the real and actual experiences of PoC who really do encounter racism’. They simple start framing the debate in the correct terms.
Now, why does this matter?
It matters because racism, in every form and at every scale and in every colour permutation you can imagine, is pure ignorance and should not be tolerated.
It matters because saying that people of a certain colour cannot be victims of racism is racist, and to deny that is wilfully twisting words to suit your flawed argument.
It matters because it gives certain individuals carte-blanche to say and do whatever they like about somebody who happens to be a member of a majority group, because after all they aren’t being racist.

It matters because it breeds a culture in which racist statements and behaviour are acceptable, and if left unchecked this culture will grow and create more division, resentment and bitterness. 
See that kid who was chased because he was white? How exactly do you think that experience is going to help in ending racism? Do you not think that his young mind might be shaped by this experience and, living in a society where there are already many negative stereotypes about black youth, he might become somebody who believes these stereotypes and becomes part of the racist power structure? Is this the kind of thing you really want to enable by refusing to accept that racism cuts both ways, instead of educating youth of all races on the importance of not discriminating?
It matters because, while institutionalized racism is a massive problem, racism itself happens at the individual level and it is only by changing individual mind sets that racism can be addressed. The United States has all the legislation in the world to promote equality, but African Americans still find themselves getting a raw deal. That is down to a great many individuals—the people who make up these institutions. Every single person on this planet has to take individual responsibility for their own behaviour, and allowing certain groups to say whatever they like about others undermines that.
Finally, on a personal note, I give everybody the courtesy of judging them on who they are, what they say and what they do—not on the colour of their skin (or gender, religion or sexual orientation). If you don’t do the same, then you’re a racist. And I don’t want to know you.

Presenting the must-have vintage mobile communications transport device for hipsters!

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This weekend, my wife Nats and I were discussing ways to make more money. Well, Nats, I believe I have cracked it. I have yet to set an RRP for this amazing product, but considering house prices in London and the fact this could serve as a mobile home as well as a mobile phone/transport device, I’m thinking of setting the bar as high as the penny farthing upon which it is based.

Satan Wants YOU! to Listen to Peter Andre

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At the heart of my novel Wannabes, a sample of which you can read here, is a simple theory: that those fuming religious extremists who believe Rock (and any other kind of music with energy, passion and a bit of swagger) is the devil’s music have got it arse-for-tit.
The whole ethos of spirituality, of religion, is supposedly about aspiring to be somebody better, a being of pure love closer to God, and what better eases such an ascent than music that comes from the heart, music that is truly creative and makes the listener feel something?


 

If God does exist, I believe he is a massive Black Sabbath fan and is considering solving conflict on Earth by making every world leader and general listen to War Pigs five times a day. Jeff Buckley’s Grace is his most-listened-to album, even though Jeff comes to his den for a private concert once a month. He loves the early work of Daft Punk and, even though he thinks their latest stuff is a bit commercial, still respects them. He raps pretty well for a beardy white guy, except he isn’t so keen on the whole guns, drugs and bitches thing and prefers to rhyme along to Spearhead, A Tribe Called Quest and MC Solaar.
Gibson Les Pauls and Marshall stacks replaced all those chiming harps decades ago, although he did invest in a few of these bad boy electric harps so he could run them through his pedal board and make some interesting sounds. He has an old Moog stashed in his studio, and he isn’t afraid to experiment with 30-minute atonal dirges in the hope of stumbling across that one second of divine inspiration that may lead to a whole concept album. 
Satan, on the other hand, is all about the bland. He wants your soul deadened. He wants you to sit slack-jawed at home feeling nothing, your senses and spirit dulled by the diet of malevolent muzak he is piping into your ears through televised talent shows and mainstream radio. He wants you to accept mediocrity as the pinnacle of musical creativity, so that your own perceptions of what the human imagination can do are eroded to point zero. He wants your soul to wither down to a blackened husk.
One of the cheeky chief imp’s greatest tools in this battle is Auto-Tune. For those who don’t know, Auto-Tune is an audio processing tool that corrects pitch. It first came to prominence as an effect on Cher’s big hit Believe, and you’ll have recognized that soulless digitized voice on other chart-topping pap down the years since.

So, no big deal right? It’s just a vocal effect. Alas, no. The creators of Auto-Tune, Antares Audio Technologies, say that it is used on almost every songyou hear on the radio to correct for bum notes.
 
Now, the rationale given is that it allows small glitches to be fixed in the studio instead of forcing a great performer who has given a wonderful emotional performance to re-record the whole song again just because of the odd mistake. I could just about buy that argument if it were not far the fact that adjusting a voice by machine would rather seem to me to be a sure fire way to remove human emotion. I’d rather have the odd bum note, thank you.
The big problem is that Auto-Tune allows people who cannot sing, but just happen to be rather nice to look at, to become pop stars. If you want to hear it in action, the two links below give you Katie Price and Peter Andre’s vocal performance on their cover version of A Whole New World, before and after Auto-Tune and other studio tinkerings.
As I expect you can tell, those two should never have been allowed anywhere near a recording studio unless it was actually part of a trap to lure them in and remove their vocal cords with a set of rusty pliers. And yet, thanks to the magic of Auto-Tune, they managed to record a track that was a close enough approximation of music that they could trade on their white teeth and large chests (both of them) to sell records.
Of course, this misuse of Auto-Tune isn’t the cause of this culture. We’ve been overwhelmed by shit music and manufactured stars for decades now. But it allows the expansion of the trend in which good looks are more important that talent, in which image takes precedence over content, in which we are force-fed cover versions that are pale echoes of music that meant something.
Don’t you just feel your juicy plum of a soul shriveling up into a prune under the desiccating heat of Hell’s fires? The battle is going on right now, people. Which side are you on?

I have writer’s vacuum, but at least I saved a frog

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I’m not producing a damn thing at the moment, yet I don’t consider myself to be suffering from writer’s block. ‘Block’ suggests that there exists a great reservoir of words hanging dense and fluid in mind, and that to unleash the flood all I have to do is roll aside that mental stone, pull the pesky little boy’s thumb out of the dike and fuck the risk of Holland flooding, or place an oversized crate of dynamite at the base of the dam and try not to get drowned in a tumultuous, roiling, foaming, crashing wave of coruscating verbiage. 
I have no sense of there being any such reservoir, which you may consider no bad thing given the potential of unleashing so many unnecessary adjectives. I detect nothing behind my absence of inspiration and words. In short, I have writer’s vacuum. 

Unfortunately, this does not mean I can stand beside Neil Gaiman, David Mitchell or Louis de Bernieres and employ the relative difference in creative pressure to greedily slurp up ideas through their ears. Nor does it mean I can use my mind to hoover up all of those biscuit crumbs, crisp fragments and gloopy lumps of chocolate—the decaying remnants of comfort eating—gradually coalescing around the legs of my writing desk into a single clump organic matter that may one day become sentient. No, it means my mind is a dark, cold and gaping void (if you have trouble picturing such bleak emptiness, look into David Cameron’s eyes). If an inter-dimensional rift doesn’t opens up and throw me a cosmic bone soon, I’m either going to have to get a new keyboard or a new forehead, depending on which gives way first.
I do actually have plenty of things to work on: half-finished short stories, concepts and outlines for over a dozen novels, and a working idea for a kids’ book. Yet any time I sit down to write, the words just won’t come no matter what I try, like something that won’t come no matter what I try (and no, I didn’t do that on purpose to prove that I can’t even produce a decent simile; I just can’t write a decent simile, like a writer who can’t write a decent simile).
God, the simple act of writing this blog post has become a chore, making my original goal of trying to force myself to get some words down seem utterly pointless. So I’m going to stop now and return to banging my head on the keyboard.
gvfbn 
Right, so the above five letters are what I got from banging my head on the keyboard ten times. Five puny fucking letters, right? That’s half a letter per impact, which calculation at least goes to show that my engineering degree wasn’t a complete waste of time. Even my forehead has writer’s vacuum. 
Now, aware that I am being my usual whiny self and wishing to end on a slightly more upbeat note, I did pour water on a lost and semi-desiccated frog this morning. It didn’t say thank you, but its little red eyes did seem to bulge slightly in gratitude as the mineral water cascaded on its head. Maybe I’ll ask it to hop over my keyboard for half an hour in return. It probably has a better chance of producing something worthwhile than I do.

New Authors and the Agent Conundrum

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A few weeks ago, I gave this piece of advice on Chuck Sambuchino’s blog over at Writer’s Digest:
You may have to compromise to gain commercial success. As an artist working in a commercially driven industry, you could face an uncomfortable choice. Your agent and publisher will usually look at your labour of love with an eye on what is right for the market, not what is right for your vision. Publishing is an industry, and industries want to make money (although kudos and credibility in the form of prizes or critical acclaim from the intelligentsia form a lesser part of the equation). It is up to you whether you refuse to compromise your vision, and thus run the risk of your career facing a potentially fatal setback, or accede to their requests. Just make sure you can live with the consequences of your decision.
Given word count restraints, I didn’t have space to go as deeply into this as I would have liked, but a conversation with a friend the other day reminded me I had more to say. My friend, a budding writer, sent her manuscript off to an agent about two months ago. The agent got back to her expressing an interest in working with her. A big ‘Yay!’ is in order, right? Well, yes and no.

 

My writer friend, let’s call her Sam to avoid the need for me to write ‘my friend’ repeatedly (and thus sound like I’m waving my one pal around to show I’m not horrendously unpopular), was actually dispirited by the response from the agent.
Apart from the positive news, the agent also gave a long list of things that ‘needed’ changed in the manuscript. Again, I told my friend this was a good sign: no agent is going to waste time doing this unless they feel the writer has potential. Sam acknowledged this, but said she found herself facing exactly the dilemma I wrote about. The agent essentially wanted her to change her book so it would become more of a conventional crime thriller, and Sam wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with her original intentions being subverted in such a way. So, Sam wanted to know if she should make the changes to get her foot in the door, or stand her ground and run the risk of losing this agent.
Here is what I told her:
If you write in order to be published, then it makes absolute sense to implement whatever changes are requested. However, if your writing is your art and you feel very strongly about your vision, don’t make any changes that compromise what you want, but be aware this second approach can mortally wound  your chances of ‘making it’. 
Of course, there are many shades of grey in between these two stances. A writer may elect to compromise initially with the intention of establishing themselves and then changing direction later. This is possible, but there is also a good chance that this writer will find it far harder to change direction than they thought once their writer ‘brand’ has been created.
Also, when an agent or publisher asks for changes, there is often wiggle room and a middle ground where all parties are happy can be found. So search for that ground. However, for a lot of writers, there is usually a line that shouldn’t be crossed and the problems come when you are asked to cross that line.
New writers often lack confidence, and so when somebody from the inside opens that door a crack and gives you a tantalizing peek inside, the initial impulse can be to bend over backwards to get that agent. An agent may well suggest revisions that they honestly think will make for a better book. It is also possible that if an agent suggests changes, it is because they want to increase the commercial viability of that work so they can sell it to a publisher. Bear in mind that an agent is often second guessing what a publisher wants, and that a publisher is second guessing what the public wants. 
In either scenario, an agent can just be plain wrong.
So, this is a key point to remember. Look at every suggested change with one simple question in mind: Does this make my book better? If not, you may be getting led down a path to a novel that, while fitting genre conventions a little better, is going to be average.
The problem with making all of the suggested changes, even those you don’t’ agree with, is that it will immediately put you in a situation where you are uncomfortable with your agent. The relationship is immediately defined by you doing something you didn’t want to, thus creating the possibility of long-term resentment and also setting a precedent where the agent gets the final call on the book.
All new authors feel powerless, but they are not. You have to remember that, ultimately, an agent is going to be working for you. Their income derives from your work. Without authors, agents wouldn’t make a penny, and the same goes for publishers.  If you are good enough to attract the attention of the first agent you approach, then there is every chance you can attract the attention of others. So, you don’t have to sign up with the first one that bats their eyelashes at you and you don’t have to drastically rework your manuscript if it feels wrong. 
Ultimately, you can be commercially successful but an artistic failure, or vice versa. You can be successful both commercially or artistically (but hopefully not a failure in both). Choose whether book sales or integrity of vision is most important to you, and create your own definition of success based on that criterion. Keep that in mind when deciding whether to sign up with an agent and whether to rewrite your work according to their wishes. The right agent (for you) can help take your work to another level and be a relentless advocate for your career. The wrong agent (again, for you) can make you lose focus and hamper your career. It is your future, so choose wisely.

7 Things I’ve Learned so Far

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I don’t normally do writing advice, since I generally feel that I have no idea what I’m doing, but Chuck Sambuchino asked me to contribute to his blog over at Writer’s Digest, so I obliged. Below is what I told him.

7 Things I’ve Learned so Far

1. Your first book often defines your career. You may see yourself as a genre-spanner who dabbles in whatever takes your fancy. Most publishers will think you are just a spanner if you do this (Americans: please do not hold this very British joke against me, and accept this definition). They want to build a brand. That process begins with your debut. If your first novel is crime, that is what your agent and publisher will want you to deliver again in order to keep any readers you have hooked. In the words of one big publisher, they want ‘the same but different’ for subsequent works. If you give them something totally new, there is a strong chance they will turn their noses up at it even if it is staggering work of heartbreaking genius. While it is better to be published than not, choose your first book wisely: it may define the next 20 years of your career.

2. You may have to compromise to gain commercial success. As an artist working in a commercially driven industry, you could face an uncomfortable choice. Your agent and publisher will usually look at your labour of love with an eye on what is right for the market, not what is right for your vision. Publishing is an industry, and industries want to make money (although kudos and credibility in the form of prizes or critical acclaim from the intelligentsia form a lesser part of the equation). It is up to you whether you refuse to compromise your vision, and thus run the risk of your career facing a potentially fatal setback, or accede to their requests. Just make sure you can live with the consequences of your decision.

3. If you want to sell, you have to market. This has been said before, but bears repeating. Your publicist will send out review copies and gab about your book on social media for a while. Then, like a serial philanderer, they will make eyes at the next author to come along and you’ll be ditched. Instead of bemoaning your fate, get marketing yourself. The one nugget I have to add to the reams of advice already out there is that you shouldn’t neglect the real world. Social media is awash with self-promoting authors. It’s hard to rise above the noise. So get creative. I wrote a comedy about zombie cows so I am hiring some panto cow outfits, wearing which a group of us will roam around London and prompt a few cardiac arrests. The cows will have posters for the book pinned above their over-the-top udders and I will hand out flyers. At the same time, I will film a silly book trailer. It may have zero impact, but I will feel that I am doing something constructive and we will have a lot of fun in the process.

4. To call publishing glacial is demeaning to glaciers. Never mind how long it takes from starting a book to getting a contract to being published: getting the damn thing widely read can take years. Word of mouth is still the most powerful way for a book to go humungous, and despite the internet we feel is so omnipotent this doesn’t happen overnight. Your marketing will help, but it won’t pay instant dividends. Good reviews don’t prompt immediate sales. Learn to be patient and play the long game.
 
5. Look forwards, not backwards. In the age of instant feedback, it’s tempting to spend hours trawling Amazon, Goodreads, Facebook and Twitter monitoring your sales and reading reviews. Don’t do this unless it is a way of gauging the effectiveness of your marketing efforts. There is nothing more crippling or demoralizing than passively observing how your last book is being received. Concentrate on your next project.

6. Don’t try to please everybody. So you’ve ignored the advice above, as the majority of published writers do, and read every review. The positive comments give you a glow at first, but after a while you can only think about the criticism. When this happens, understand that you can’t please everybody and shouldn’t try. Don’t change how or what you write because some people don’t like your work. This is a sure path to losing your identity as a writer. Just be grateful that Dorothy Parker isn’t around any longer, and for the love of God do not read the Kirkus review of your book.

7. Never forget why you started writing. I’d like to think most authors started writing not because they desired riches, but because they felt driven to share another worldview or needed to silence the voices in their head (maybe that’s just me). Once you’re in the industry, it’s easy to lose sight of this. You will have setbacks. You will doubt yourself. You will despair that you are ever going to make it. You may even be tempted to set fire to the only copy of your WIP and lob it from a tall building. Through it all, don’t lose your love for writing. If this happens, you may as well go and do another job you hate that pays better. Nothing makes me feel the way writing does, and I will never stop even if I don’t make another penny.

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