Some time shortly after the turn of the millenium, sitting in a Capitol Hill cafe with my friend and co-author Cindy Ward, I listened to Timmi Duchamp tell us how she was going to start a publishing house. She was really serious about this idea; she'd gotten advice on buying ISBNs and everything. My initial response--which I kept to myself--was a mixture of skepticism and provisional resentment. I hoped she knew how much work she'd be taking on. I didn't see why her pet project would ever have anything to do with me and my writing. And I certainly didn't expect she would change the face of publishing--least of all that face's racial profile.
There are four books that could be called mine. All come from Aqueduct. Next year I'll be able to claim a fifth. Same publisher. So I was wrong to think Timmi's project would have no impact on my career. And deliciously wrong in my other conclusion as well.
Aqueduct's stated mission is to provide challenging feminist science fiction to the demanding reader. Nothing explicit in there about race or ethnicity. But when it comes to authors, racial representation within the catalog departs from the unmarked state, which is whiteness. I love, love, love that the press does this--and without marking that departure. Don't believe me? Check out this list of authors. I count eight who aren't white--there may be more. Eight of 50. That's 16%--a smaller percentage than in US demographics, but it feels huge to me. Huge in a good way. An endarkening way.
Author An Owomoyela noted that her linguistics studies taught her that:
"gender" is just a word for "kind."We were talking at the time about the intersection of race and gender in her story "Of Men and Wolves" and also in the excellent Cat Rambo's "Clockwork Fairies." Talking about a certain kind of kind really doesn't keep you from talking about another kind of kind. In fact, it can make The Grand Conversation easier to engage in.