“I never want to inadvertently write something that caters to the white gaze.” —Morgan Talty

After writing the first draft for Meleak, my short story, my protagonist woke me up in the middle of the night, disappointed in me. Shaking her head, she paced around my bed, flinging her arms and moaning. Why are you explaining my culture and my community? In the darkness, I saw my character living her life in Tiya, where she lives, remembered the words I penned on the page. My character disappointed in me—for explaining her culture, who her community is, for a white reader—fell on the floor, her body curling onto itself, murmuring, “You’re not doing me justice.”

When I fired up my laptop and reread every scene in my story, it didn’t feel natural to me. Then it dawned on me. I had written a short story for a white readership. To give you an example, there is a scene where my character’s community beat their chests, fall to the ground, and tear out their hair at a funeral ceremony. This scene, on its own, should have been enough, but I had also written explanations. Why the locals beat their chests, fall to the ground, and tear out their hair at a funeral ceremony.

The following day, I rewrote every scene where my character explained her culture. In my rewritten draft, my character never spends time explaining her language or who she is, or her community.

I learned to avoid storytelling that is “performative for a white readership” while reading Nicole Chung’s conversation with Morgan Talty, author of Night of the Living Rez: Stories. Talty talked about how he was so careful with his book—not dangling cultural elements for the reader as a kind of token, not making our stories performative for a white readership.

“I never want to inadvertently write something that caters to the white gaze.” —Morgan Talty

Talty’s words are the best writing tip I read on storytelling deeply committed to characters living in native communities.

I swooned over the central character’s voice in the 12 wonderful stories in Night of the Living Rez. Set in a Native community in Maine on the Penobscot Indian Nation reservation, where Talty was raised, David, the main character, never explains who he is or his community.

Months after I sent my rewritten draft to online literary magazines, one editor contacted me, interested in publishing Meleak. When she told me she Googled to get more information on the local language and culture in my story, warmth moved through me like a swig of hot tea.

As a Black woman writer, publishing stories based in Tiya in literary magazines is my dream. As a newbie short fiction writer, sometimes I think I should explain the cultural elements in my story. Maybe I should make it easier for a white publisher to understand my story. But then I ask myself, why should I explain my character or her culture?

Anyone can Google.

I want to write short stories anyone can read. But I also don’t want to put words on my page that feels performative.

This is why, every time I work on my first drafts, I ask myself, is there a place in my story where my character explains herself, or how she behaves, or her culture, or her community?