I wonder what kinds of joy we could see in stories about marginalized people or characters if we stopped believing every story about them had to include bigotry because real life includes bigotry.

Like what if a story about a disabled person didn’t have, at its center, ableism prominently displayed by major characters? What if we stopped modeling the behavior we say we oppose? What if instead we modeled the kinds of stories we hope will someday come to be?

The ways in which the power structures of publishing and the people ensconced in them think that the only stories to tell about marginalized people are the stories about how they’re marginalized shows that all they can see of us is our marginalization.

These stories are obviously not for marginalized folks. We don’t need to read about the bad. We know it. We live it. These are stories for those right in the center of power. And those are important and have their place. But they aren’t the only story.

I’m very tired of having to explain this to folks who should (and think they do) know better. Realism doesn’t mean jack if you haven’t any hopeful stories to get you through it.

And I don’t mean small “My dad didn’t sneer at my boyfriend when I brought him over for dinner and that’s a start” kind of hope. That’s small
hope. I’m tired of small hope.

Give me big hope. I want stories for and by marginalized people with the biggest hope we can muster. We need it. I need it.