Let’s talk about cultural appropriation. Many of you will have seen the conversations around American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins, a novel about a Mexican woman fleeing into the US with her son. In the author’s note, Cummins said that she “wished someone browner than me would write it”; she is a white Latina, and received a seven-figure advance for the novel.
This is a tale as old as time. White novelists have always borrowed the voices and experiences of others to tell stories that they don’t have the access and insight to accurately tell. Where does the responsibility lie, here? Is it with the publishing industry, which has consistently opted to publish these culturally lacklustre stories from unequipped authors? It would be easy enough for them to seek a novelist who could write an authentic American Dirt. Or is it up to the author to say: “This story isn’t mine to tell”?
Of course, writers should explore a multitude of narratives. We should be inclusive and reflect the society around us. But the Mexican community is large, and Mexican writers have stories to tell. Let them earn the seven-figure advances. It’s a small amount of compensation for the trauma that comes with a life so sensational it’s worthy of being fictionalised.
