Diversity: A Polemic

If you’re a writer, you’ve seen versions of this countless times: “We aim to ensure that our catalogue is reflective of an inclusive and multicultural Canada. We especially welcome work by Indigenous writers, writers of colour, LGBTQ2S+ writers, deaf and disabled writers, and women.” (Submission guidelines, Book*hug Press)

Maybe if you’re a straight, white, male with no disability worse than an occasional backache and computer-generated near-sightedness, you’ve gritted your teeth and kept searching for markets that might be open to your contributions. Or maybe you’ve taken it on faith that this sort of thing is a necessary corrective after centuries of white, male Eurocentric domination of literature. Shakespeare’s sister, yadda yadda yadda.

But we’re not just talking about statements like the one above. We’re talking about government-grant-receiving arts organizations committing acts of deliberate racial (and gender-based) exclusion in the interests of justice. The literary world is awash in an ever-growing flood of “diversity”-focused mentorships, scholarships, festivals, special editions of journals, publishers’ statements and committees, all of which justify their actions by pointing to white, male dominance of the literary world. A few specific Canadian examples of what are meant to be necessary correctives to systemic bias:

  • ECW Press, one of Canada’s most prominent independent publishers, has just announced a mentorship program for BIPOC (the currently favoured term, an acronym for black, Indigenous, people of colour) writers.
  • Canada’s national short story prize, the Journey Prize, has announced that next year only black writers need apply (this in a country where black people made up 3.5 per cent of the population in 2016).
  • The Festival of Literary Diversity has emerged as one of the most well-funded and heavily publicized literary festivals in Canada, featuring only BIPOC writers (plus a few white writers who are disabled or trans/non-binary). The founder and director of this festival has recently become the books columnist for CBC Radio’s daily arts and culture show, Q.
  • The Writers’ Union of Canada runs an Ontario Arts Council-funded conference called BIPOC Writers Connect, in the most recent of which 20 established BIPOC writers read manuscripts and offered advice on writing and grant applications to emerging BIPOC writers.
  • Diaspora Dialogues, a federally and provincially funded non-profit, offers a mentorship program for emerging writers. For the only two years in which all the participants are listed online, all of the writers being mentored were BIPOC.
  • VS Books, an imprint of Canada’s Arsenal Pulp Press, only publishes BIPOC writers.
  • Virtually every literary journal in Canada regularly runs special “Indigenous voices” issues every few years, despite, of course, running works by Indigenous authors in their regular issues. Also coming up are BIPOC-only issues of journals CV2 and Filling Station.
  • Several literary journals, such as Room and Canthius, publish only women.
  • Several publishing houses in Canada, including Kegedonce, Theytus and HighWater, produce only books by Indigenous writers.

All of this is justified on the grounds that these special restrictions are necessary to give excluded voices a chance to be heard. All these actions are defended by prominent figures in the literary world – writers, academics, agents, editors – who still talk about the white, male Canlit canon as if the Canadian literary world hasn’t evolved since the 1950s, and who use this white, male domination as the reason for all of those special calls for Indigenous writers, writers of colour, women writers, LGBT writers and so on.

Perhaps this is in part because Canadians, like their American neighbours, overestimate how many people of colour there are in their country. A few years ago, the Center for American Progress and the Rockefeller Foundation released a study that showed Americans on average estimated that people of colour made up 49 per cent of the U.S. population, at a time when the actual figure was 37 per cent. In 2001, Gallup found that on average, Americans estimated that 33 per cent of the U.S. population was black, at a time when the census showed the correct number to be 12.5 per cent.

This distorted perception is likely greater in Canada, where, in 2016, visible minorities and Indigenous people combined made up 27 per cent of the population, an increase from 14 per cent as recently as 1996. If you think Group X makes up a larger share of the population than it does, you’re more likely to view it as under-represented in any given field, right? That misperception might explain remarks like one I heard from a 50-ish literary agent, who suggested at a conference in 2018 that the white Canadian literary canon from her school days was a product of racism in creating the canon. Given her age, she would have been in high school in the early 1980s, and the most recently published books to make it onto school curriculums would have been from the mid-to-late 1970s, when the BIPOC share of Canada’s population was well below 10 per cent. (This doesn’t explain why Canadians might see Canlit as traditionally male, given that it emerged into the popular imagination in the 1960s and ‘70s with Margaret Laurence, Margaret Atwood and Alice Munro as standard-bearers.)

It is taken as given that the literary establishment continues to teach, publish, promote and reward white, male writers at the expense of women and Indigenous and visible minority writers. Is the perception of under-representation in the Canadian literary world based on reality? Not that I can see. I’ve recently calculated the ratio of white/BIPOC writers and male/female writers among those shortlisted for Canada’s most high-profile literary award (the Giller Prize, awarded since 1992) and  featured on Canada’s most high-profile book promotion (CBC’s Canada Reads, on the air since 2002) in order to get a snapshot of Canada’s most successful writers of the last three decades. I’ve also examined a sample of the lists of writers participating in literary festivals and featured in CBC “writers to watch” articles over the last few years, in order to see if the literary establishment is displaying biases right now.

And here’s what I’ve found. Shortlists for the Giller Prize (usually five books per year, occasionally six) have been almost evenly divided among men (69) and women (74). White writers (116) appear at first glance to have been somewhat over-represented relative to BIPOC writers (29), if you don’t consider Canada’s shifting demographics since 1992. The 25 per cent of Giller shortlist positions since 1992 occupied by BIPOC writers should be compared to the BIPOC share of the Canadian population over time, which was about 14 per cent when the Giller began and 27 per cent at the time of the last census, in 2016. So it’s hard to see a white male bias in the Giller, which is often seen as the most conservative of Canada’s literary awards. (It’s worth noting as well that 12 BIPOC writers have won the Giller, giving BIPOC nominees a much better batting average than other nominees.)

Now let’s look at Canada Reads. In 20 years since it debuted in 2002, men have been slightly over-represented (55 men, 45 women), though this imbalance is a result of a 29-21 male-female imbalance in the first decade of the show. If we look at the racial breakdown, we see that BIPOC writers are over-represented relative to Canada’s population, getting 41 per cent of 100 spots in the annual battle of the books. The balance has been shifting further in their direction recently. Since 2014, three or four of the books featured each year have been by Indigenous writers or writers of colour.

I’m confident that the Giller Prize and Canada Reads are not anomalies and that, especially for the last five to 10 years, many other institutions in literary culture would show a similar or more marked tendency. I recall in 2018 when the five-book shortlist for the City of Toronto Book Prize was 100 per cent BIPOC writers and this was hailed in one headline as “diverse.” As if there is no diversity of insight or experience among the non-BIPOC 47 per cent of Torontonians.

Now, it might be argued that the make-up of two prominent awards doesn’t indicate the racial/sex ratio of all of Canadian publishing. But it seems improbable to me that Canada’s literary gatekeepers (editors, publishers and prominent authors) might exhibit a pro-male, pro-white bias when selecting which books to publish or recommend for publication, but not when sitting on award juries.

Now let’s shift from looking at the Canlit environment over time, to examining its current condition. Which authors are being published? And perhaps more importantly, of those who are being published, which writers have the promotional resources of their publishers placed at their disposal to give them a chance at meaningful sales? To gauge this, I counted up the numbers of male/female and white/BIPOC writers at three randomly selected literary festivals (Vancouver 2019 and Eden Mills and Winnipeg 2020) and did the same with two “writers to watch” articles for each of 2018, 2019 and 2020 published on the CBC Books website.

Here’s what I saw. The Vancouver festival featured 108 writers in 2019: 61 women, three trans/non-binary and 44 men (41 per cent of the total). Of those 108 writers, 62 (57 per cent) were white, and 46 (43 per cent) were BIPOC. In 2020, the Eden Mills festival was 61 per cent female and 39 per cent BIPOC. The 2020 Winnipeg writers’ festival was 50/50 male and female and 33 per cent BIPOC. (The Winnipeg racial tally is skewed somewhat by a contingent of Francophone writers, all but one of whom was white. Among Anglophone writers at the 2020 Winnipeg festival, 39 per cent were BIPOC). So the evidence suggests that, at writers’ festivals, women and BIPOC writers are represented in numbers greater than their share of the population.

Now let’s look at those “writers to watch” pieces on CBC Books. Looking at two of these per year for the last three years, I came up with a total of 74 books by men and 124 by women getting this kind of valuable advance promotion, and 133 by white authors and 86 by BIPOC authors. So, a 40 per cent share for BIPOC writers and a 63 per cent share for women. (Not everything the CBC touches is this slightly skewed. Of the 35 writers who made the longlist in the most recent CBC non-fiction literary competition, five were male and one of them was a white male.)

You may have recoiled a little at the idea that I have spent many hours googling writers in the news in order to count them by racial category. Me too. I’m actually pretty pissed off that I find it necessary to do this in order to counter this narrative of white, male hegemony in current literary circles.

I am not calling for awards, contracts and publicity to be given out on a proportional basis. Women buy more books than men, so there’s no great injustice in the industry catering to women’s tastes when it comes to signing and promoting authors. The experience of being in a racial or cultural minority might be more likely to inspire people to become writers – witness the flowering of American Jewish literature in the 20th century. The desire to write and the talent to do it very well make for a rare combination and we can’t expect that combination to show up by quota. Maybe the increasingly disproportionate results are purely innocent.

Except that they are accompanied by countless indicators of a literary culture that is working to create even more disproportionate results in the future, when all those beneficiaries of race-based emerging writer awards and mentorships are ready to move into positions of literary leadership.

If literary gatekeepers – the publishers, editors, conference organizers and the like behind those exclusionary measures I referred to above – are going to use race-based criteria to bar the majority of the nation’s population from many of their programs and publications, there had better be compelling evidence to justify those measures. An analysis of the success of BIPOC writers over the last two or three decades, both in terms of sales and in terms of awards, indicates that these extraordinary measures are not justified. (And that some of these measures target women generally as excluded from Canadian literature is so preposterous as to be laughable.)

But far from easing off on the affirmative action, the people piloting the good ship Canlit are pushing the throttle harder.

The new chair of the Canada Council, our largest arts-funding body (a federally funded institution that will have a $360 million budget in 2021), in an interview with the Toronto Star, has called the institution he now heads a “colonial” institution that needs to be changed. Given that this is a man who campaigned to destroy a white author and editor’s career over an awkwardly worded call for writers to work to bridge cultures, we can guess what this might mean.

Of course, it has always been difficult to find a publisher and an audience. Being a writer has always been a struggle, often a lonely one, to convince the world that one has something to say that is worth reading. But for a not-statistically-insignificant share of the population, that challenge is becoming increasingly difficult, as opportunities of all kinds become more rare, as the traditional indifference of the world turns to outright hostility and as literature increasingly becomes a subsidiary branch of the greater enterprise of gender and racial social justice. A few of us aren’t going to give up, even as it becomes increasingly clear that we aren’t welcome and the audiences who might be interested in our work are being isolated or even driven away. Don’t expect to see us soon on award shortlists and book-of-the-season lists.