5 Tips To Help Bring Your Culture & Heritage Into Your Story With Confidence

The publishing industry has had an ideal reader for many years (OK, let’s be honest, all of the years). White male. White female. In that order, with the default being heterosexual, cisgendered, and able-bodied.

(Courageous Discomfort: Thoughts on How To Have Important Conversations About Race and Racism for Writers, Readers, and Other Human Beings)

If you wanted to get published, you wrote to that brief. Thankfully, that is changing. The industry is becoming more diverse and inclusive. It is a glorious (and about time) thing.

But, as writers that have grown up reading that canon, it can be hard to unlearn that ingrained preference. Here are a few tips to wean yourself from that mindset and authentically voice your once marginalized culture and heritage into your writing.

Just because you are of (__________) heritage, that doesn’t mean you know everything about its history. Take some time to read and learn. I am a Cuban-American that lives in Miami, where there is a large diaspora community.

I “should” know a lot about Cuba. My Spanish* “should” be perfect. “Should” is the language of shame. There is no shame in admitting you don’t know something. Take back the power. Change that oppressive language from “should” to “can.” It will free you to learn joyfully.

This year, I read Ada Ferrer’s Cuba: An American History. It helped me connect so many snips of history that I’d heard in passing but never studied. My confidence-in-heritage meter has gone way up. And I know my expanded understanding and knowledge will organically infuse my writing.

[*My Spanish is not fluent. I learned from hearing and speaking it, not reading and writing it. Accents and grammar are my weak spot. But I am committed to representing the Spanglish world in which I (and 41 million other Americans) live. So, I learn as I go, sin vergüenza.]

Do not be afraid to be specific. The cultural details in your story are gifts to your target reader, and they add authenticity to your story’s world.

I write the Caribbean Kitchen Mystery series. It is set in Miami with a Cuban-American protagonist—a food anthropologist turned cooking show star. I’ve put details in my story for every level of my readership.

For example, I use language specific to Miami, such as dale, super, bruh, and mission. Locals and former residents of The 305 will pick up on that and feel seen. For Latinx readers, mi’ja might be the thing that brings a smile to their faces. For the culturally adjacent reader and/or a connoisseur, it might be the yellow and red can of coffee that they recognize as Café Bustelo.

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Not everything has to be translated verbatim. Your target audience will know what you mean, and your wider audience will either figure it out or look it up. Remember when you first became a reader? What would you do when you encountered a new word? I bet you asked someone what it meant or found a reference book.

Here is an example from Calypso, Corpses, and Cooking. Miriam’s backyard is crawling with police officers. So, what does a cooking show star do? She offers them refreshments, of course.

The reader doesn’t need to know that malta is a type of soda made from fermented grains that is popular in the Caribbean, especially amongst Miami Cubans. The context clues inform them that it is a soda like Coke or Sprite. If they are curious, they might research it more. (Try it with condensed milk for a real locals-only experience.)

What is the hill you will defend until death? Mine is no italics.

I will not allow the Spanish in my stories to be italicized. My Latinx characters speak in two languages—sometimes within a single sentence. They do not stop, change voices, and then say the words. (Watch Daniel José Older demonstrate it in this video) Italics draw attention to a word or phrase to indicate a tonal change or an inner voice or printed text the character is seeing.

In short, italics other. I do not want to other my characters. I want to break from that colonial mentality. It is important (dare I say, my mission) to normalize languages other than English in literature for English-speaking-dominate markets. Anything less perpetuates the myth that one language is superior to the hundreds of other languages (350-430) spoken in the U.S. I feel very passionate about this and could go on and on.

But my point in asking you to choose your hill is that it will help you find your true north. You will need that compass when it comes time to read comments from beta-readers, editors, and reviewers.

Find your writing community. Actually, find more than one because rarely is there a group that is intersectional enough to fit all your needs. I am a member of Crime Writers of Color (for allyship and comradery), my local Mystery Writers of America chapter (as a professional guild and for in-person events), and Sisters in Crime (for advocacy and education), plus several other groups for networking.

Each provides me with different kinds of support. My advice is don’t be shy. If it is an online group, don’t be a lurker. Introduce yourself. Get involved. Volunteer. Attend workshops. Network. Finding the right (and safe) space to ask questions is crucial. Writing may be a solitary act, but it doesn’t have to be a lonely journey.

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