Decolonization and Conflict
Writing is a series of choices; some are big, some small, some are easier to make, some not. Having recently finished a draft, I’m faced with one of the big and difficult ones: what should I write about next? My prior projects mostly began with the seed of “I think this would be fun to write.” This time around, I’m trying to be more deliberative about it, having more criteria for what the next project’s going to be.
One of the things I want to be more intentional about is contributing to the effort to decolonize fiction. More than writing something fun, I want to write something that chips away at the centeredness of the West and Western culture, and all the racism, sexism, anti-queerness that that centeredness comes with. Sometimes those two things happen to overlap. The books I’ve enjoyed writing and that I’ll soon get to share with the world are the kind that we don’t see much of. Stories with Filipino protagonists, for one, or a cast of majority queer and non-white characters, for another.
Yet I feel there’s more I can do. Like being more intentional in the choices I make. To paraphrase Avenue Q, everyone’s a bit colonialist. A very small percentage of the world has not been touched by colonialism and imperialism, on either side. I can’t rely on instinct and my influences, when those have been mostly shaped by my life as a native of a country colonized three times over.
A few months ago, I watched Ways to Decolonize Your Fiction Writing, a presentation given by Hugo-nominated speculative fiction writer (and fellow Filipino) Vida Cruz. In it, she breaks down different elements of fiction—worldbuilding, characterization, plot, theme, etc.—and how each can be written in a decolonial way. Among many others, she talks about macrocultures and different forms of government (aside from empire); writing characters from different perspectives; the concept of character agency; and how certain writing and reading defaults are colonial in nature. Ms. Cruz also questions what we view as “good” or bad” writing, and how those ideas have been shaped by Western influences. It’s an eye-opening forty-minute video that is well worth the watch.
I revisited that presentation today, in the hopes that it would shape and order the various new story ideas taking root in my mind. Anticolonialism is something that’s always infused the plot of my stories, but decolonializing fiction is also about breaking white and Western homogeneity on a more basic level: Does the narrative structure follow Campbell’s hero’s journey, or maybe the Aristotelian dramatic structure? Is the story about individualism or about community? Is the conflict competitive in nature? (Indeed, is there a conflict at all, and if so, why?)
One of the story ideas I’m toying with involves a large extended family, stuck in the great-grandmother’s house for her funeral. Messy family drama and weird otherworldly shit ensue. It’s all still very amorphous, and I have vague sketches of the characters in my mind, but what’s most clear is the ancestral house: how it looks, the vibe it gives off. I have no idea what the conflict will be, and that bothered me for a while. Ms. Cruz’s presentation reminded me that maybe I don’t need one. At least not the conventional type of conflict. Alternatives to conflict include forgiveness, discovery, reunification, community building—all very compelling story elements.
She also talked about kishōtenketsu (起承転結) a Japanese story structure that does not involve conflict in the traditional sense. It has the introduction and sort of rising action, just like Freytag’s pyramid, but the “development” part of kishōtenketsu does not involve change or an escalation toward conflict, but rather an expansion of what is established in the beginning. Then comes the twist—an unexpected development—and then the aftermath of the twist.
With this structure, no one needs to die, I don’t need to have some sort of showdown, and there’s no need for “sides” and one of the sides “winning.” There is no sparring, physically or emotionally. Just something strange and unexpected, a new status quo that the characters must settle into. This story structure feels right for the vibe I want to go for with this new story idea. Following this structure might mean that the story will be viewed as a quieter book, one that’s not as high-stakes. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be emotional or insightful or thought provoking. Real life is more a series of developments—some on rails and some not—than conflicts anyway. What do we realize or discover as we go through our days? What new understanding comes upon us? And how do we adjust to the new? There’s a story there, as there is in everything, even though there is no “conflict”.
You can see more of Vida Cruz’s work and find ways to support her at: https://vidacruz.org/
Image credits: Brown globe photo by Viktor Forgacs on Unsplash; El 2 de mayo de 1808 en Madrid, oil on canvas, Francisco Goya (1814); kishōtenketsu graphic via theartofnarrative.com