In science fiction, “there is a certain freedom in that you get to play God a bit. You get to build your own world from the ground up.”-Nalo Hopkinson
Science fiction is indeed a vast genre, posing no limitations on an author’s mind save those the writer creates within a text. With such endless possibilities, surely the genre attracts and reflects a varied pool of authors. Right?
Wrong.
Yesterday I had the privilege of attending a science fiction symposium at USF’s Alumni Center. The event, featuring authors Kathleen Goonan, Julie Czerneda, and Nalo Hopkinson, offers insight into the minds and works of successful female science fiction authors.
Nalo Hopkinson, who delivered the keynote speech, addressed the small but growing number of female writers in the field. She revealed that only about 35% of current science fiction writers are female.
I have to admit, I was shocked that the number is still so small.
Several decades ago, when science fiction first began to gain popularity as a genre, it was dominated by men. The presence of female writers within the realm was nonexistent. Consequently (perhaps), when women did enter the genre, many wrote under male pseudonyms. For instance, authors James Tiptree Jr. and Andre Norton, both widely read and respected, were revealed to be Alice Sheldon and Alice Norton, respectfully.
In a time when certain genres were considered inappropriate or unconventional for women to read and write, their discretion is understandable, but though our presence in science fiction continues to grow, many women are still hiding. Even the famous J.K. Rowling decided to remove the femininity from her name in fear that young boys would not read a novel by a female author.
Isn’t this our problem? If we continue to market our science fiction solely to males, how can we hope to attract more females? By hiding our gender, are we propagating the male domination of the genre?
Hopkinson recalled her own early experiences with science fiction, remarking that Harlan Ellison’s short story “Shattered Like a Glass Goblin” “blew my mind, so I went looking for more.”
This immediate attachment seems to be the way all readers awake to their passion. We read something amazing and are suddenly filled with this unquenchable thirst for more. And so begins a life of reading books beneath desks in school or under the covers at night, constantly searching for new stories and worlds to explore. But of course, the attachment has to begin somewhere.
Does gender actually play a part in a child’s choice of literature?
Having always been a reader of science fiction (and hardly anything else) I remember realizing that all of my favorite authors were male. Of course as a young girl I did not see any significance in this trend, but I remember actively seeking out science fiction novels written by women. In reading these rarities I felt a sense of pride or connection, though I could not have explained why. Perhaps it was because, as Hopkinson so well illustrated in her example of a male-written scene involving a woman who delivers a baby in one push after her first contraction, there are some aspects of the female experience that a male author just can’t convey.
Perhaps it was simply because reading a novel by a female author in a male-dominated genre afforded me a sense of belonging that I would not have otherwise experienced.
Hopkinson spoke of the constant debate surrounding the low number of female science fiction writers. Many people claim that gender does not matter, that “great writing is great writing.” She meets this assertion by posing the question, “how much great writing are you and I missing out on” because female writers are being overlooked or second-guessing the quality of their writing because of male-oriented expectations or presumptions?
I can understand how gender may not matter if you are already an avid reader, selecting books based on genre, content, or style. But what about all of the children who are picking up a novel for the first time? How do they select a book?
They look at the cover art, the font, and the author’s name. Then, maybe, they might read the back of the book.
So why hide our names? Did you know that young girls are more likely to read for enjoyment than young boys? Why don’t we let the 65% of science fiction authors who are male worry about marketing their work to boys, and us 35% who are female focus our efforts on attracting the girls? Maybe it’ll raise our numbers. It certainly won’t lower them.
It seems to me that we cannot complain about the lack of women who read and write science fiction if we do not actively advertise our existence in the genre. Our predecessors have forged our place in science fiction, and it is our duty to be courageous and expand that place by vocalizing our presence, encouraging women to join us in writing openly in a genre with endless possibilities.
On her website Hopkinson writes that “science fiction and fantasy allow us to step outside our known reality and examine that reality from a different perspective. They do so by creating imaginary worlds as lenses through which we can view our own world.”
Step outside your own world and consider this:
Think about the young girl, destined to become a great reader and writer, who is at this moment selecting her very first novel. I hope she chooses a science fiction novel, regardless of the author’s gender, because I want our genre to continue to flourish.
What will happen if that impressionable child picks up a novel presumably written by a man, but later discovers that the author is a woman, writing in current times, who feels that she would be better accepted in the genre as a man?
What example are we setting for this child? Do we want her to hide her gender?
Of course not!
So set an example for the next generation of science fiction writers. Embrace your gender as the authors in this symposium have, and let your presence in this genre be known!