TW: discussions of fictional depictions of rape, physical violence, transphobia, suicide
Not to beat a dead horse with a stick (what a terrible saying), but J.K. Rowling… am I right?
For those of you who are unaware, J.K. Rowling has revealed herself (again) as pro-binary gender, meaning anti-trans and non-binary people. And while this is nothing new, it has sparked a fresh wave of outrage and lost her another slew of supporters and fans. You can read more about it here.
Every time a well-known author, artist, or musician does something terrible or controversial, the same old comments tend to resurface. On one side you have die-hards who will bend over backwards and flip themselves inside out to defend the creator, and on the other side are those who are prepared to completely abandon the creator and everything they’ve ever done.
You might hear things like:
“She/he/they are dead to me.” or “She/he/they has done nothing wrong.”
“I’m never supporting this artist again/reading their books/listening to their music.” or “I’m going to go buy everything they’ve ever created.”
“What a [fill in your favorite insult].” or “What a [fill in your favorite compliment].”
I can understand both of these responses. We should never feel obligated to support a creator if we disagree with their morals and values. And if we agree with a creator’s morals and values, it is to our credit to defend and support them.
But what I really don’t like is the in-between effort to cling to the artist’s work while disassociating it from the artist. The most frequent phrase thrown around by ex-fans is:
“I just like to separate the art from the artist.” [1]
There are a few variations on this one. In the instance of J.K. Rowling, I’ve seen comments like:
“I guess Harry Potter doesn’t have an author anymore.”
“Her work was always greater than she is.”
“Sometimes the art transcends the artist.”
This, to me, is a very problematic, and if I may add—irritating. I do not think you can separate the art from the artist.
Why?
I’m glad you asked.
Reason #1: All artists are problematic.
There is no such thing as a perfect artist and there is no such thing as perfect art.
Part of being human is growth, meaning that have to learn and change and grow throughout the course of our lives. And one of the most wonderful parts of art is the ability to reflect on our growth, to examine our imperfections, to explore new thoughts and ideas, and to change as a result of the work that we do.
One of my favorite things about being a writer is the fact that I get to use my art to explore things that make me uncomfortable. I get to use my art to learn, formulate ideas, and express my feelings. I get to be imperfect—and I get to express my imperfections in my work.
As an artist, I am also very aware of how my art is created. I think about my process a lot. I know that what I think, read, and consume makes its way into my work via my subconsciousness, even if that is not my active intention.
That means that the things I think and believe will be expressed in my work. It means that my flaws will be in my work.
The ideas, themes, images, characters, settings, motifs, and plots in my books came from my brain. I have stamped myself onto them. They are a part of me, and I am a part of them. You cannot simply remove me from the equation or else the work never would have existed.
Likewise, you cannot remove J.K. Rowling from Harry Potter. Her thoughts, feelings, and attitudes at the time of writing are reflected in that work. Whether we like it or not.
Also, speaking as a creator—I do not want anyone removing me from my work. If you find me personally problematic, I hope that you also find my work problematic. I put a lot of thought, effort, and consideration into what I write. I want my values and beliefs to be clear in what I write.
On being problematic.
I think some artists fear being problematic—or at least, the backlash that sometimes comes with being problematic. But there are three types of people in the world: those that agree with us, those that don’t, and those whose views on a topic are currently in flux.
I try not to spend too much time worrying about those whose views are in flux (unless my own views are in flux, in which case I try to spend some time learning and thinking about the topic in order to come to a conclusion).
However, people who disagree with me on an issue that they find important will likely also find my work problematic. The question I ask myself is this: if a white supremacist finds my work problematic, do I really care?
The answer is: no. I don’t give a flying f*%#.
The real fear is that the people I agree with, people I care about, people that I am trying to support and uplift will find my work problematic. For example, what if a Black person thinks that my work is racist, even though I am actively working to be anti-racist?
There are of course preventative measures I can take. For example, I can avoid topics I don’t feel confident about, or at least explore them in my private art, not my public art. I can do research. Listen. Hire sensitivity readers. Run my work by people whose opinions I trust before I release it.
If I do make a mistake, this is where humility comes in. If someone whose opinion I care about says, “I have a problem with your work,” the trick here is to listen, apologize, correct (to the best of my ability), and make amends.
Let me go back to J.K. Rowling. Trans people and allies have long had issues with her work. Of course, she probably can’t go back and republish Harry Potter with corrections (a flaw in the traditional publishing system, imo). But she could have said, “When I wrote that, I didn’t realize the impact it would have. I am sorry for any harm XYZ statement caused; I stand with trans people.” And then taken some steps to demonstrate her support, such as donating to a trans community non-profit, deleting harmful tweets, attending a protest, or something like that.
Not everyone would have forgiven her, and the mistake still would have been made, but an action like that would have gone a long way towards repairing the harm she had done.
What she did this past week was absolutely the wrong choice, if she wanted to show support for trans people. Not only did she NOT apologize for her tweets (and the problematic issues within her novels), but she doubled down and published a blog post which revealed so many more problematic (and traumatizing to some trans people) views on the topic, that it’s now almost impossible to even look at her name without cringing.
Most illuminating to me have been the resulting discussions about the anti-trans concepts in her work. You can read more about those here and here and here.
The only other point I want to bring into this topic is that of money. Many creators try to cater to everyone. They say, “Everyone is a potential fan. I don’t want to say or do anything problematic or political in nature because I don’t want to turn anyone off or lose a sale.”
My feeling about this is if you really want to make an impact in the world, which most creators do, this is never going to work. In the elegant words of Lin-Manuel Miranda: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”
Reason #2: The flaws of the artist are apparent in the art as well.
I believe the act of “separating the art from the artist” is a form of false cleansing. It’s like repainting a house when the real problem is the crumbling foundation. Or sweeping the floor when actually you’ve got termites.
If a person says “J.K. Rowling is terrible but Harry Potter is fine,” it implies that the person doesn’t want to admit that the thing they are a fan of might also be problematic. It is sort of like sticking your head in the sand to avoid uncomfortable conversations (and I have certainly been guilty of this in the past).
In reality, flawed artists and flawed art (especially popular art that has been read/consumed by a large number of people) actually provides a launching point to begin conversations about difficult topics—which ultimately can bring about real-world change.
Think about how many people have read or watched the Harry Potter series. It has opened up plenty of opportunities for discussions about rising up against injustice, standing up for what is right, and good versus evil. Well, it now can also be used as a reference point to talk about issues such as transphobia, gender roles, and sexism.
One of the things about Harry Potter is that it has had a significant impact on many people, particularly millennials. I personally loved the stories as a teenager. I’ve read all the books probably 20 times. I found the world engaging, the characters interesting, and the immense depth of details easy to get lost in. When life was hard, I found comfort in the series. When I was stressed, I was able to immerse myself in another world.
But even back then, as a youth, my own community found Harry Potter problematic. I was raised in an evangelical, Christian world. Their number one issue with the series? Witchcraft. They said it promoted evil. Necromancy. I had close friends tell me that by reading the series, I was opening myself up to the devil.
Of course, I disagreed. But I still listened to the people that said they had an issue with the series. I considered the Bible verses they shared that supported their perspective. And I developed my own conclusions about it. By acknowledging that the work itself might be problematic, it forced me to really consider my own thoughts and beliefs on the topic, and it created a reference point for me to have discussions with the people in my community about a difficult subject.
And because of Harry Potter’s widespread popularity, I’ve been forced to reconsider my feelings over and over and over, each time I was exposed to a new perspective on the series.
Ultimately, I believe that both the series and the creator are problematic (though not because of witchcraft). That doesn’t change the fact that I found comfort in it as a teenager or that I enjoyed it previously. But I cannot ignore the problems within the work that I now know are there. And, I now have an opportunity to use the series as a reference point that many people understand when discussing complex and difficult topics.
On being a fan of problematic things.
This is a frequently discussed topic in the scifi and fantasy world, and a couple of years ago I had the opportunity to attend a panel about it at a local comic con. It was informative, to say the least, and I have adopted the ultimate conclusion of the panelists (though, I am always willing to discuss this topic and reserve the right to alter my view if other perspectives sway me).
The main question was this: Is it okay for me to enjoy a problematic thing?
Essentially, the panel participants came to this conclusion: It is fine to be a fan of a problematic thing, so long as you do not blindly defend an artist or their work, are willing to acknowledge the problems inherent within the work, and do not dismiss people off hand when they bring up a problem they have.
The main works discussed at the panel were HP Lovecraft (a raging racist), Supernatural (so many problems with this show I can’t even list them all), and Orson Scott Card (homophobic).
Most works have a combination of good and bad elements. It’s unfair to a creator to focus entirely on the bad and not on the good; but it is also unfair to focus entirely on the good and be unwilling to acknowledge the bad. For example, Supernatural has some horribly sexist undertones and scenes, but some great monsters and fun story lines. HP Lovecraft writes beautiful prose while simultaneously exploring the darkness of the universe—and he’s a blatant racist. Harry Potter had a significant impact on culture—and also JK Rowling is transphobic.
If we agree with the idea that all humans are flawed and thus the things we create are flawed, then it’s unreasonable to say that we can’t be fans of flawed things. But I do think that it is important to be able to have the difficult conversations, acknowledge the flaws in our favorite shows and series, and to be willing to learn from them.
3. Dismissing problematic parts of artists or their art is gaslighting.
Let’s talk about George R. R. Martin for a moment. Lots of people are huge fans of Game of Thrones. When the TV series came out, I decided I would participate by reading the first book in the series, and if I liked it, then I would finish the books and then start watching the show.
Well, I got halfway through the first book, came across the scene which includes the rape of a minor (a 14-year-old “marries” a 25-year-old and they have sex which she is portrayed as enjoying), and I quit. The fact that a grown man thought it was okay to include a scene like that while presenting it as “okay” because the child “wanted” it, makes me more angry than I can even express. Since then, I haven’t read a single book, haven’t watched any of the series, haven’t bought any merch, and generally try to avoid talking about it.
And yet, the series has gained a lot of acclaim, is insanely popular, won awards, etc. And because I write scifi, go to comic cons, and am vocal about my enjoyment of the science fiction and fantasy genres, I have been asked a number of times whether or not I enjoy GoT. When I reply honestly that I couldn’t get past the rape scene, I get one of two responses: either the person says, “I totally understand that,” or they say, “Well, he wrote it in the 90s” (as if it was okay to abuse children in that decade???), or “Well, I don’t think that’s what he intended,” or “People make way too big a deal out of that,” or “Yeah, that’s a problem but the rest of the series is great, you really should give it another chance.”
Essentially, they dismiss my feelings about the work, tell me I’m overreacting, or ignore my concerns entirely. Basically, they gaslight me.
I personally have not been raped, so while these types of responses irritate me, they don’t cause me any additional trauma. But this response is also dismissive of something that is very personal, very traumatic, and very horrific. And no one—let me repeat, NO ONE—should be required to reveal their personal trauma just to help someone else understand why they find a book problematic. This goes for any issue—sexism, racism, abuse, assault, homophobia, transphobia, violence, or anything else.
You are allowed to find a book problematic. You are allowed to find a piece of art problematic. You are allowed to find an author or creator problematic.
Period.
On responding to problematic things.
Let’s say I am at a comic con and say, “I’m a huge fan of XYZ,” and the person I’m talking to replies, “Didn’t you know that XYZ is problematic?” (Problematic here could be anything—racist, sexist, anti-LGBTQ, etc.)
I am immediately horrified, because no, I didn’t know.
I have a few choices:
I could say, “I’ve never noticed anything problematic about it, you must be wrong,” or “I don’t care.”
I can vow to never watch that TV show again, boycott it, never recommend it, and make sure I communicate to all of my friends that it is problematic so that they also stop watching it.
I could say, “Wow, I didn’t realize that,” and then go home, do some research, learn more about the problematic elements, and then make a decision about how to proceed.
The choice I make is going to depend on a few things: who I’m talking to and my relationship with them, the nature of the problematic content, my own personal priorities, my own values, etc.
For example, if someone tells me that a show or book has swearing in it, I might legitimately say, “I don’t care,” even if that other person finds swearing problematic. Because swearing doesn’t typically bother me.
However, last year I started watching 13 Reasons Why, and my friend told me that the entire thing was a dramafication of rape and suicide, so I stopped watching it immediately, without doing any research or reading about it anymore. I trusted my friend, and those are things I find problematic and didn’t want to consume.
Alternatively, I’ve had many discussions about the problematic themes in Supernatural with friends, the way the writers have changed the show and tried to address the critiques, and analyzed the effectiveness of their efforts, and the process been very informative and educational for me. So I’ve chosen to continue watching the show.
Whether or not and how much art or an artist is problematic is a personal decision, and so is determining the way in which we respond.
At the end of the day…
I honestly don’t think we can separate the art from the artist. And I don’t think we should.
Art is not created in a vacuum, and when we consume it, it is always important to remember the context in which it was created—the era, the culture, and the creator.
Art has served so many functions in society, from expressing emotions such as joy or sorrow or pain, to shining a light on the injustices of society, to exploring a variety of ideas and concepts, to simply providing a form of entertainment or escape.
If we find art or an artist problematic, it is up to us to decide whether we will abstain from engaging with that person’s work ever again, will do so only privately, or will do so openly with a willingness to have a discussion about the flaws—or whether we will dismiss the concerns other people have about it entirely.
We are also allowed to change our minds—to stop consuming something if we decide we can no longer stomach the problems, to restart if the artist works to make amends, or if we change our feelings on a particular topic for any reason.
Flaws, feelings, growth, and art are all very human. And one of the most beautiful things about art is the ability to represent ourselves authentically and to experience other people’s perspectives on the world—flaws and all.
[1] This is an explanation of the historical precedent for this concept.
