Through tinted glasses

Through tinted glasses

I am currently a bit obsessed with the TV show New Amsterdam thanks to recommendations from my friends Louise and Misty.

It’s fabulous brain-out beautiful people in unlikely storylines telly.

But it also gets me thinking about perspectives, and how we badly need stories from people who don’t look like us, sound like us, or live like us.

An episode I watched recently, for example, featured a storyline about undocumented people, one of whom was a trans man from Nigeria. But the ER doctor didn’t realise he was a trans man until one of the nurses, who is also a trans man, realised what the chest “bandages” were. They weren’t bandages at all, but a binder to flatten his chest because he couldn’t afford top surgery. The nurse also realised how traumatic the visit was for a variety of subtle reasons other people might not pick up on, and was able to make sure the patient got the care he needed — because the cis ER doctor simply wasn’t aware of that patient’s specific traumas and needs.

It reminded me of another story I’d heard — I think it was on Threads but honestly I cannot remember — of a Black woman who was in hospital in labour, and was apparently hitting herself on the head. This alarmed the white nurses and doctors who called for a psych consult, which could, quite literally, have put the patient’s life, future, and family in danger.

When a Black doctor entered the room and found out what was going on, she was horrified — and able to explain that there were no psychological issues and what the others saw as self-harm was, in fact, a way of scratching an itch under her tightly braided hair.

She wasn’t hitting herself; she was patting the itchy area rather than scratching, which could damage her scalp or mess up the hairstyle.

That lack of cultural awareness isn’t just clumsy and insensitive, it can be life-threatening and it happens a lot.

Which is why we need books and stories and movies and TV shows about all sorts of different people from all sorts of backgrounds, religions, cultures, genders, races, and neurodiversities. All people, everywhere, in fact.

This is why representation matters, why diverse writing and voices and books matter.

Not only because it makes the world a more interesting place for all of us.

Not only because it personalises and humanises other people and shows us how, despite our differences, we’re more similar than not.

But because this can actually save lives.

Your perspective matters, whatever your background and whoever you are. Someone, somewhere, will identify more with your story than with someone else’s.

And your story will teach people things they might not have otherwise known, and that can make more of a difference than you’ll ever realise.

We don’t often get a glimpse into the lives of people who inhabit different communities or worlds than we do, which is why diverse stories on TV, movies, and in books is so important.

Remember that next time you think, “Who am I to write a book?” or “Nobody wants to hear what I’ve got to say,” or “This isn’t a new or unique idea.”

Chances are, your negative voice is plain wrong, so don’t listen to it.

Write your story, please.

Someone somewhere will be grateful you did.

p.s. I’m looking for 2 people to work with me in Book Coach In Your Pocket before Christmas. Are you in?


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