An interesting thing has been happening to me with increased frequency: I’ve been asked to read friends’ and acquaintances’ manuscripts as a sensitivity reader for stories that deal with immigration. Because I am a Latina and an immigrant, and the authors who’ve requested I read their work are writing outside of their own experience, I’ve been asked to evaluate their work for authenticity. So far, I’ve had to turn down these kinds of requests because I’ve been busy with my own writing and mentoring work, not to mention personal commitments. But while I am not actively offering sensitivity reading as a service, there are several writers and editors who are. As sensitivity readers become more sought after in the publishing world, their role has been met with mixed reactions.
First Things First: What Is a Sensitivity Read?
A sensitivity read is an evaluation of a manuscript, usually one that touches upon characters and experiences of a marginalized group of people, that is performed by someone within that group to bring attention to potential inaccuracies, biases, and reinforcements of harmful stereotypes. Much like one might ask a cardiologist to read their story about a cardiologist for accuracy, a sensitivity read helps ensure that the portrayal of characters and worlds unknown to the author ring true. But more than that, it helps authors better yield the immense power and responsibility of their words. How many of us write because we want to make sense of the world around us? And more importantly, how many readers seek out our work in search of stories and truths that will, inadvertently or not, shape how they see the world?
This kind of work takes, well…work, at every stage of the process. There’s pre-writing research, there are revelations we experience during the writing itself. Post-writing, a sensitivity read provides yet another crucial layer of learning to the process. And yet, some authors continue to resist (and resent) the very idea of one.
Maybe it’s the name. The word “sensitive” has gotten a bad wrap lately, too often used to accuse someone of being too touchy or emotional. Perhaps the real question writers should be asking is: am I being sensitive enough? Am I using my senses to foster acute awareness and concern for the complexities of what I’m writing about? Isn’t that part of our job as writers?
Maybe it’s how it’s described. A recent story titled “Publishers are hiring ‘sensitivity readers’ to flag potentially offensive content” included an unfortunate word choice in the headline alone. The main purpose of a sensitivity read is not to avoid offending; it’s to avoid harming. If you’re writing about a person who is marginalized or underrepresented, understand the weight of what that means—for readers who rarely see their experiences reflected in books, seeing negative or erroneous stereotypes reinforced can be hurtful to them and their community. For readers outside of that experience, yours may be one of the few stories about a disabled or gay or black person that they read for years. Books carry authority; they have a way of seeming to represent the truth. They can expand or stunt our capacity for empathy. What author wouldn’t want to get this responsibility right?
How to Approach a Sensitivity Read and Reader
In the interest of keeping this straight-forward, a brief list of do’s and don’ts.
- Do offer and expect to pay for a sensitivity read. Just like any editor’s service, their work is valuable. A great place to start is with Write In the Margins’ Sensitivity Reader Database.
- Don’t hire a sensitivity reader with the expectation that someone within the community you’re writing about will sign off on your manuscript and give it a stamp of approval.
- Do approach a sensitivity read with an open mind and a willingness to learn. Like any evaluation of your work, it is meant to help you craft a better story.
- Don’t assume that any writer within the community you’re writing about will do this kind of work for you—many of us are hard at work trying to make our own stories and voices heard. Be mindful of the fact that, as marginalized people, we live in a world that constantly asks us to justify the validity of our experiences. This is exhausting to do for ourselves, let alone for others.
- Do read, read, and read books written by the people you’re writing about. Then think about what you’ll contribute to these narratives. Be honest in asking if you are the right person to do so.
- Don’t assume nobody else is writing these stories and that’s why you’re the one to write them. Just because you’re not aware of certain writers and voices doesn’t mean they’re not out there—they are likely not getting the marketing support that more “mainstream” (heavy emphasis on quotation marks) stories are getting.
- Do seek out these books. Buy them. Read them. Recommend them to others. Focus on amplifying rather than silencing.
- Don’t assume that one sensitivity reader represents an entire group of people. Just like our characters, communities contain multitudes—it’ll take more than one draft or a simple bit of research to do them justice.
- Do be ready to make mistakes, and embrace the chance to learn something from them.
- Don’t blame social media for increased scrutiny of your work. On the contrary, it’s given a platform to voices that previously, might’ve not had the chance to call out misrepresentations in such a large scale manner. Poor representation has always happened; the only difference is it got a pass more easily when certain voices weren’t being given a place at the editorial table.
- Finally, do reclaim your sensitive side. We are writers because we ARE sensitive to the world around us. We are writers because we observe and question and search for truth and meaning and understanding through stories. Of course, we write to escape and entertain as well, but even then, words are powerful.
Have you considered hiring a sensitivity reader? Why or why not?
P.S. I’ll be on a road trip on the day this posts, but I look forward to reading and answering any comments/questions later this weekend.
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About Natalia Sylvester
Born in Lima, Peru, Natalia Sylvester came to the U.S. at age four. A former magazine editor, Natalia now works as a freelance writer in Austin, Texas and is a faculty member of the low-res MFA program at Regis University. Her articles have appeared in Latina Magazine, Writer’s Digest, The Writer, and NBCLatino.com. She is the author of Chasing the Sun, named the Best Debut Book of 2014 by Latinidad and chosen as a Book of the Month by the National Latino Book Club. Her second novel, Everyone Knows You Go Home, is forthcoming from Little A in 2018.
Excellent advice, Natalia.
I wonder what would happen if white male thriller writers hired women to assess their handling of their female characters? Or if romance writers hired soccer dads to assess their alpha male heroes?
No, seriously, I suppose that some readers in some categories are willing to accept stereotypes, but that doesn’t mean that authors are obligated to deliver them. Stereotypes are only stereotypes as long as they are perpetuated.
More importantly, stereotypes and cultural assumptions do real harm, as you say. They are not just part of the problem, they are the root of the problem. Are fiction writers willing to accept responsibility?
I think so and changing our culture starts with good advice like yours today.
I’d add this, too: It’s not just about sensitivity, it’s about story. Powerful stories take us into worlds we don’t know but even so recognize. They affirm that while our cultures may be different our humanity is the same.
That magic cannot be made with cardboard characters. Characters who are fully real act like real people, which is to say complexly, and surprise us in ways that make for terrific stories.
Sensitivity is important. How much better, then, when story also benefits.
Thanks, Donald. You are exactly right about story, and articulated it beautifully. In craft discussions we so often talk about the importance of making sure our characters are not two-dimensional; that they are real and all their complexities authentically explored. At the very least we owe that same respect to characters that represent real people.
But were you HARMED by the Chicago Tribune headline?
Thanks for this more nuanced take on the PW article. That headline, I agree, did some damage. For my MS on submission right now, which has a cast that is about half and half white and African American, I knew I wanted some early readers who could call me on any inadvertent slips or stereotypes. Four of my early readers helped me specifically with that–two black girlfriends (one of whom is also a writer and the other who was a child in Detroit at the time and place that much of the story is set), one black male writer I knew through work, and my former college roommate who is now a sociology professor at Loyola and specializes in racial issues. Their advice, ideas, and love for the project make me confident that I’m not stereotyping, I’m not pandering, and I have been faithful in representing the lives and concerns of characters with a very different background and experience of life from mine.
The manuscript I just finished will go through a similar process because I have two characters who were adopted later in childhood from Korea by a white American couple. Also, in the writing, I discovered that one of those characters is a lesbian, though her time “on stage” in the MS is during her childhood and teenage years, and she’s not out at that point. And the POV character (her best friend) doesn’t know it. But I want to be sure to run it by a couple people who understand what it is like to be a young person in that situation.
I’m so glad you’ve embraced sensitivity reads as part of your process, Erin. Writing fiction is, after all, all about empathy. And listening to those who’ve experienced what we haven’t is paramount.
I hadn’t thought of a sensitivity reader, Natalia. You make some good points. A good editor or specific beta readers can be helpful too about ethnic correctness, but in the end it’s the writer who has the responsibility to be more aware of what is inappropriate or harmful.
Hi Paula, that’s true that the writer is the one who’s responsible for being aware; I think that’s different than being the one who gets to decide whether or not something is harmful. For example, if a particular depiction felt like it rang true to you, but not to your sensitivity reader who’s lived that experience, then they would tell you. And it would ultimately still be your decision (and responsibility) as the writer whether or not to change it, but that goes back to my advice about how we should all be open to learning. We are all free to make mistakes, but we should also take responsibility for them, especially when help to be aware of them and learn from them was made available to us but we didn’t listen. That’s the main thing I hope writers will take away from this—sensitivity readers are here to help, not hinder, writers who want to tell truer stories.
Thanks, Natalia. In a world where the Milos and Donalds are gaining an upper hand, attacking “PC” as a form of cultural cowardice, it’s important to remember that sensitivity isn’t a form of squeamishness, but a dedication to getting it right, and evidence of a willingness to listen. Strange how that now is being portrayed as a kind of weakness.
I was particularly struck by items #5 and #9. I’d add to #5 the importance of getting together with and listening to members of whatever marginalized group you’re intending to write about. Not just that — letting them effect you. There is something transformative about letting someone’s physical presence — not just what they say but their voice, their expressions, their body language, their attitude, etc. — make a material impact on your own body, not just mind. This can prompt a deeper, more intuitive rendering of the character.
Also, remember that imagination is a form of compassion. By trying to imagine someone else’s life, you are saying that life is worthy of understanding.
I wrote an essay about this that accompanied my fourth novel, which concerned a Salvadoran-American family facing the challenge of a family member’s deportation. The essay was titled “Go Humbly,” and was based on one of my favorite quotations. It’s from John Coltrane: “When there is something you do not understand, you must go humbly to it.”
That’s great advice for developing the kind of sensitivity needed to develop characters whose circumstances are much different from our own.
Great post. Thank you.
I love this – “imagination is a form of compassion. By trying to imagine someone else’s life, you are saying that life is worthy of understanding.”
Yes, exactly. Thank you.
THANK YOU For addressing this. I’ve been so confused by the outrage on the PW article. Good authors already do this! I wrote about autism, I had a mom with a child on the spectrum beta read my MS and incorporated her feedback.
Unfortunately, we’re a headline society. Your take is spot on!
Thank you, Kate! Yes, I’ve also been a little stumped by the outrage. Writing is hard work. The act of writing requires us to look deep below the surface. I think any writer who understands this would understand that a sensitivity read is, essentially, another form of fact-checking a perspective or experience we haven’t lived ourselves. That’s part of most our processes already.
This is perfect timing for me. I think it’s so important, and along a similar vein…My main character right now has a neurological condition that makes her want to become reclusive… which she needs to fight against (for me to have a story). I plan to find a sensitivity reader to ensure I portray her condition accurately — not just her fears and how she acts, but also how she reacts to things — I don’t want to either over or under create her reality. It’s not only that I want to portray her accurately, I also don’t want anyone to think I’m using a serious condition to simply have an interesting character. I think (on the contrary) she has challenges we all deal with on a daily basis in different forms.
To me, to get it right, this is like any aspect of research. For her character to ring true, I want to make sure my character is realistic and relateable but as you say, I also want to be sure I don’t have “inaccuracies, biases, and reinforcements of harmful stereotypes.”
Great post, Natalia, with lots of helpful points to consider!
“I don’t want to either over or under create her reality.” So well-stated. I think this speaks volumes about you, Julia, and how you can recognize that none of us are defined by only one thing, but all aspects of ourselves deserve to be truthfully represented for us to understand one another.
I’m sorry Natalia, but I think this kind of censorship is a death knell for literary freedom. Fact checking is one thing, mind checking something else completely.
The article you referenced says sensitivity readers will “scan the book for racist, sexist or otherwise offensive content.” Who decides what is offensive? I find excessive cursing offensive. Many authors and readers don’t and I’d never expect my sensitivity to be the bar for anyone else, I simple don’t read books with content I find offensive.
And what if a racist or sexist or otherwise offensive character will serve a purpose within my story? There are plenty of people who DO say and do things that offend particular groups. Has no one stopped to think that seeing themselves mirrored in fiction might cause them to consider the impact they’re having on those they offend? Might alter their mindset in a positive way?
Censorship is a dangerous road. In medieval times the Roman Catholic Church did not believe readers could understand and interpret the Bible correctly so it was banned on pain of death. In Hitler’s Germany books were banned and burned if they were written by Jews, pacifists, pro-democracy writers or anything else they thought fostered a liberal decay.
The article you referenced also spoke of Veronica Roth’s new novel, complaining it was racist. Good. It means they’re reading it, talking about it and forming opinions about its content.
I apologize for the rant but it’s something I feel strongly about.
I think good readers don’t exclude characters that are, let’s say racist, when they are an important part of the story. This is more about making our characters real, three-dimensional people who have complex lives and views and are not simply 2D stereotypes.
My MS has people (both white and black) who are extremely flawed, and one of the things they all struggle with is how to approach race and racism. When my three black readers and my sociologist friend read my MS, they didn’t object to the portrayals of the characters or even the (very sparse) use of the n-word or the use of the terms Colored and Negro because they are era- or character-appropriate. Instead, they pointed out to me when dialog didn’t ring true or suggested I had black characters who’d migrated North eat some particularly Southern foods they’d be more used to.
I have white characters who hate blacks (or “some kinds” of blacks — those who “know their place” are fine to them). I have black characters who hate whites. I have white characters who think they’re doing good who are actually doing harm, white characters who pay lip service to equality while holding back real support, white characters who act out of fear. I have black characters who are combative, black characters who are submissive, black characters who loot, black characters who run businesses, black characters who see the world clearly, and black characters whose vision is clouded with hate. I have people who realize their prejudices and those who don’t.
All the good and all the bad and all the misguided is there, and my early readers weren’t interested in having me make my characters PC. They were interested in helping me make my characters authentic. I think, at its best, that’s what a sensitivity reader can do when we want to step out and write about something outside of our experience.
You can’t compare a dislike for cursing to writing inaccuracies and stereotypes about an entire group of people that can harm the group. You’re not going to get followed around a store or rejected for an AirBNB (Yep, using microaggressions on purpose) because you curse too much.
And I agree with Erin that this isn’t creating picture perfect views of marginalized groups. It’s about creating well-rounded characters that don’t fall into (potentially harmful) stereotypes. If you have a character that is well written and clearly meant to be racist or offensive, no sensitivity reader worth their salt is going to be like “No, make him love black people!” ;-)
And
Very well put, linneaheinrichs. Thank you.
I agree with Linnea this is a very slippery slope. While portraying more, realistic characters should be a goal for every author and some good points are raised, it still scares me. It opens the door to much more dangerous censorship of ideas and opinions. Especially with an omnipresent player like Amazon.
I’ll add to the above comments in response to few things:
linneaheinrichs, you mentioned: “The article you referenced says sensitivity readers will ‘scan the book for racist, sexist or otherwise offensive content.’ Who decides what is offensive?”
When you’re writing about a marginalized group of people, whose lives you haven’t lived, as much as you may try to understand them, you never fully will, especially if you don’t listen to them. So I’d argue that they get to decide if something is offensive. For example, if you felt something was sexist against women, would you accept a man telling you it wasn’t? How would he know? Wouldn’t it feel like he’s disregarding your perspective simply because he doesn’t share it?
So yes, the point is that someone who is not you points out potentially harmful depictions—it doesn’t mean that they get to decide whether or not those depictions stay in the book. That is still your decision, and your responsibility, I’d add. A sensitivity read is not censorship because no one is stopping you from saying what you want to say; they are simply making you aware of things you may not realize you are ALSO saying by depicting a person or idea in a certain way. Ultimately, free speech is free speech; it does not, however, absolve us from the consequences or results of that speech.
And as Erin and Kellye pointed out, a sensitivity read doesn’t mean no book should not contain a racist or sexist or prejudiced character. That would be harmful in its own way, too, if we erased or tried to pretend that these realities don’t exist in our world. But what a sensitivity reader will do is help initiate a conversation that is all about what you as the writer are trying to say in your work and what you, as someone who doesn’t share the same experience as your characters, may also be saying unintentionally.
Sheri, I hear you, but I think that when something scares us, that’s exactly why we should try to understand it better. Like I and several commenters have stated, sensitivity reading is not about censorship. It is not about telling a writer what they can and can’t write; it’s about helping them understand when something they have written is harmful, and making them aware of it so that they can decide if that’s truly in line with what they’re hoping to achieve with their writing. We are all responsible for our words, because they’re powerful. I hope you’ll read more about the process. I can see how the idea of censorship is scary, but this is not censorship. And more scary is the thought that we might each be perpetuating stereotypes and harmful narratives that put actual lives in danger.
Such a great overview, Natalia. And as you (and other commenters) have noted, this is really just an extension of the due diligence that good writers already do! It’s about authenticity, accuracy, and respect — NOT censorship.
Thanks so much, Kristan. Due diligence, exactly. These are things that as writers we should already be doing.
Two thumbs up for an insightful and very timely topic, Natalia. I’ve never heard of the term sensitivity reader, but agree such a process is necessary when writing about characters who are members of a minority or marginalized group. Stereotypes are so ingrained in our society that we can fall into using them without realizing it.
I especially like suggestion #5.
Your advice is not about censorship or being politically correct. It’s about making writers aware of their responsibility to craft fully-developed characters who are real, not stereotyped.
You said it best when you said, “Books carry authority; they have a way of seeming to represent the truth.” I agree completely with your question,”What author wouldn’t want to get it right?”
“Stereotypes are so ingrained in our society that we can fall into using them without realizing it.”
I’m so glad you brought this up, Rita. This is exactly why it’s so important to get this perspective on our work. Our own biases can be invisible to us, and I for one appreciate the chance to become a better person and writer by uncovering them. In fact, I hired a sensitivity reader for my next book, which deals with immigration, because though I am a Latina and am immigrant I realize I may still be carrying around internal biases I may not be aware of, and the last thing I’d want to do is perpetuate them. So really, the process is not about hindering, as some have expressed, but shining light on our stories.
Thank you for this post, Natalia. I too had never heard of a sensitivity reader. I think it’s an excellent idea for the reasons others have noted, that of crafting well-rounded characters and avoiding inadvertent stereotypes for characters whose backgrounds differ from one’s own.
Rather than look at the negative aspects some have mentioned, I tend to see the bright side of this, a recognition that authors do – and should! – explore characters different than themselves. The presence of a sensitivity reader is an open acknowledgement of that reality. To me, that is a much better solution than the rumblings I have heard on occasion that writers ought to stay in a narrow lane – one conforming to their own backgrounds – when constructing their fictional worlds.
I would rather build the worlds I see and work to get them right than to limit my view before I even get started. And to that end, it seems a sensitivity editor might help me in that pursuit.
Agreed, John. No one is saying that writers shouldn’t write outside their experience. Wha sensitivity reading acknowledges is that writing any experience (ours or that of others) is an incredible responsibility, and takes work that we cannot always do on our own, or using only our own limited knowledge and perspective.
At any rate, thanks for the timely post, Natalia. I learned something new today, which is always good. Cheers!
I’m very glad! Learning is what we’re all here for, after all. Thanks, John.
Thank you, Natalia. I too am a sensitivity reader, in my case for LGBTQ content. Your post is the best I’ve seen on this topic.
Thanks so much, Sandra.
Where I see a lot of confusion is over the age group of the audience the work is intended to reach and the degree of editing for sensitivity that’s needed. At one extreme, literary fiction should operate without a safety net – authors must be free to indulge their artistic vision without “censorship,” that is to say, no censorship beyond “[t]he trial by market everything must come to.” (Robert Frost was actually talking about trees in this case, but so much of the literature I’m thinking of is so badly written one wishes the pulp had been left standing in the forest instead of being sent to molder in bookstores.) Thus we enjoy the spectacle of books like Lionel Shriver’s “The Mandibles,” and its peculiarly insensitive portrayal of an African-American. Yet, holding my nose all the while, I will defend (to the death, I tell you!) an author’s calling to write miserably about any subject and people. Flamboyant-yet-inwardly-tortured drag queen? Bring him (or her) on! Asian math whiz? Of course, they’re all good at math! And no sombrero is too big for the greasy head of a mustache-twirling ranchero! Stack the books over there, in my cozy reading corner next to the dumpster.
Younger readers, however, deserve more respect from the authors and publishers that provide their reading material. Yes, it’s a slippery slope. That’s why crampons were invented. Is it okay for a character to call another a “retard”? Common sense says No, even as we recognize such bright lines are, in fact, fluid and fuzzy. (Not sure about that? Try watching SCTV’s skit “Half Wits” without cringing: https://youtu.be/eTDsJd1l7Aw. The comedy has not aged well.)
At its heart, sensitivity reading is about good writing and clear thinking. It’s about gut-checking our diverse characters with people who know the world and people we’re portraying. If nothing else, Neil Gaiman’s writing advice comes to mind: If someone tells you something’s not working, they’re probably right, but if they tell you how to fix it, they’re probably wrong. In the end, it’s your story. Tell it with all the truth and passion you can.
Thanks for commenting, Doug. I think a lot of this confusion comes from people thinking that a sensitivity reader will tell a writer how to fix it, which they don’t. But they do point out problems and author may not have been aware of. Whether and how they fix it is the author’s responsibility.
And of course I completely agree with you that authors should be free to explore artistically without censorship. That doesn’t mean they cannot later be criticized or held responsible for the results of that speech. How many of us actually intend to harm the very characters we write about with our words? I can bet that many of us, if we published without a sensitivity reader and later learned the hard way that our work was harmful, would be horrified to learn it and wonder, “why didn’t anyone tell me beforehand?”
Thanks for this post, Natalya. It’s the best discussion I’ve seen about the role of a sensitivity reader and why it matters, to readers and writers. This has been a big topic of discussion among Sisters in Crime members recently, and your post has been shared on our discussion list.
I suspect part of the controversy stems from the assumption that publishers are demanding such reads, and will change a ms without the author’s permission at an outside reader’s request, interfering with the author’s control over the work. That’s bad editing, just as it’s bad editing to significantly change anything else in the ms. without the author’s knowledge and consent. There are solutions to that problem, and while it might be a tough one, it has little to do with the reasons writers might want to seek out a targeted read, which Natalya articulates so well.
Thanks for sharing with your group, Leslie! FWIW, I’ve never heard of a publisher changing anything without a writer’s permission. It’s ultimately the writer’s responsibility if and how to fix something, just as with any edit.