‘American Dirt’ leads to conversation on diversity in storytelling

By now, plenty of people are familiar with the book “American Dirt,” by Jeanine Cummins, a fictionalized account of a mother and son fleeing the violence of a drug cartel and migrating to the United States from Mexico. While the book initially received considerable fanfare, the subsequent criticisms have highlighted the lack of diversity that persists in publishing, questions of who gets to tell what stories, renderings of unrecognizable and stereotypical characters, and the importance of representation.

I spoke with author and KPBS journalist Jean Guerrero.she offered her perspectives on the issues raised by these conversations around “American Dirt.” Q:

A number of issues have been at the center of these conversations, one being a question of representation and who should be telling the stories of different communities. Why does representation matter, in general? What kind of difference does it make? And what happens when people don’t see themselves represented in the media they consume?

A:

Representation matters because our grip on reality matters. If we want to have a solid grip on reality, our storytellers, who shape the way we see reality, should reflect that reality. And we should insist that they do. Just as an example, I believe the disconnect between dominant narratives on immigrants and reality — for example, the false perception of immigrants as more criminally inclined than citizens — are a result of the lack of diversity in newsrooms, publishing, cinema and other storytelling industries. The problem with having a disconnect in narratives (i.e. a shaky grip on reality) is that you end up with the level of polarization we’re seeing today, where nobody can agree on what’s true. So, representation makes all the difference in terms of social cohesiveness and a functioning democracy . ...

For most of my life, my favorite authors were white men such as

Herman Melville and John Steinbeck; theirs were the books I was told to admire. I still love those authors, but I now actively seek out all of those extraordinary writers who are not white men: Soraya Chemaly, Ta-nehisi Coates, Carmen Maria Machado, and many more. Unfortunately, even today, there is an overwhelming lack of diversity in our storytelling industries, and especially in the works that are elevated above the rest.

Q:

Is it necessary for a writer or other kind of artist to have the lived experience of the group they’re attempting to represent?

A:

I don’t think it’s necessary for a writer to have the lived experience of a group they’re attempting to represent. But I do think it’s a lot harder for someone to capture the reality of an experience if they haven’t lived it; it requires much more research to be able to authentically imagine and relate to. I think Jeanine Cummins had every right to write “American Dirt.” What feels symptomatic of a larger problem, to me, is that her book was elevated above stories that had more in common with reality and would do a greater service to readers’ grip on reality: stories like Ingrid Rojas Contreras’ “Fruit of the Drunken Tree,” Reyna Grande’s “The Distance

Between Us,” or even my own, “Crux: A Cross-border Memoir.”

Q:

Reportedly, in the author’s note at the end of the book, she expresses some hesitation about writing this story, but ultimately says that she saw an opportunity to “be a bridge” and help change the conversation around immigration in the U.S. If a segment of the people being portrayed by a work find it offensive, do the intentions of the creator of that work matter?

A:

I believe intentions matter insofar as they impact the work; many people argue that Cummins’ good intentions were not enough to overcome the failures of the storytelling. However, to the extent that that’s true, I don’t think she should be demonized for it. The interconnected systems that elevated her book as “the” immigration story of our times should be challenged. It’s a more productive conversation.

Q:

#Dignidadliteraria, a campaign for inclusion, diversity and representation in the publishing industry led by Latinx authors and activists in the wake of the publication of the book is demanding fair representation of Latinx stories and voices. What kind of work do you/your organization have a history of in terms of representation of diverse voices and stories?

A:

I have always sought to tell the stories of outcasts, outsiders and other people on the fringes of society. They remind me of my father, a person I spent years chasing, as I chronicled in my book, “CRUX.” They remind me of myself. As a young woman, I felt I didn’t belong anywhere. In Mexico, I was seen by my own family as a “gringa,” while in the U.S., I felt the psychological and financial effects of the discrimination my Puerto Rican single mother endured in her white-dominated medical field, and the discrimination my Mexican immigrant father experienced due to his mental health struggles. Because I’ve always felt like an outsider, I tend to seek out the stories of outsiders, regardless of their politics, profession or personalities. I often tell the stories of people whose lives are nothing like my own, but I relate to them on the level of knowing what it feels like to not belong.

A longer version of this column — with comments from Nicole Johnson, executive director of We Need Diverse Books, a nonprofit organization advocating for increased diversity in children’s book publishing — can be found online at sandiegouniontribune.com /sdut-lisa-deaderick-staff.html