I have learned recently I am a NWL. A “nice white lady.” I cannot put in strong enough terms how much I hated that term when I first read it. You could practically hear the snarl in the universe’s voice.
If you’ve paid any attention to RWA lately you know what’s going on. The implosion of an organization I have supported, loved, respected, enjoyed, helped has been a knife in the gut for many reasons. That I have been so blind to the underlying problems of this organization is shameful and aggravating and frustrating. How did I not know this was going on?
And I guess the answer is because I’m a NWL. I didn’t mean to be. It wasn’t a conscious choice and therein lies the problem.
My assumptions are pretty basic. I assume people are like me – not because I’m special but because I’m quite average. I’ve had success and failure, love and heartache, good decisions and bad decisions. I am a product of my surroundings and I think other people are the same. I also think that these things ring true regardless of what the face in the mirror looks like. If my background was exactly the same and I was Asian-American or African-American or Mexican-American, I think I would be the same person.
I never questioned this belief before. I don’t know if that is a bias or ignorance or truth or fiction. I do know that I’m now questioning this. I hope that’s a good thing. I hope that it leads me to be a better writer – I want my books to be diverse and my characters to be three-dimensional and honest and fair.
Mostly I hope it leads me to be a better person. I love the diversity of different perspectives. I love arguing and debating and learning and teaching. I hope this is me learning.