When History’s Mirror Is Warped
The subject of the last essay I wrote for Writer’s Digest was that history becomes fiction the second pen is set to paper. History is an interpretation of past events seen through a subjective viewpoint—whether it is through a male lens, a white lens, or a western lens.
Fictional truth. Truthful fiction.
Why, then, do we write historical fiction? More specifically, why write historical romance? Isn’t the point of romance to center love and joy, let the characters work together toward an HEA (Happily Ever After), and, of course, provide a little—or a lot of—heat along the way.
If this is true, why write romance set in the past?
I mean, how enticing could a hero or heroine from the 1800s be? (Bad teeth, limited bathing schedule, and an excess of gout.)
Don’t get me wrong. I love writing romance for the sake of romance. In a world full of negativity, fear, and anger, it is a joy to write novels that center women, that are sex positive, and outright swoony. I don’t need to do a drop of research to write a good love story.
However, I am fascinated by our literary relationship with history, fictional or otherwise.
You all know the adage: “History is destined to repeat itself.” One would think we read historical fiction to prevent such cataclysms from returning repeatedly. At some point, we can overcome our baser nature and break this cycle.
Right?
However, if you concede the point I made in my first essay, that works of historical fiction and historical nonfiction are subjective, what lessons lay in wait? Might the messages be distorted? Might our assumptions about what we are bound to repeat be warped by what we read and who wrote it?
Or, no matter who writes it, is history bound to become our future?
Acknowledging that “historical accuracy” is often an excuse for exclusion of people from history, and accepting that all historical recordings are subjective, I am no longer constrained by this argument.
People often review my books using words like “modern-day sensibilities” or “neo-Victorian.”
Why?
Because most of us have unwittingly accepted a version of history that values the patriarchy—or at least the old white men who make up the bulk of academia value the patriarchy. So do the books they write. The only books that were published until the last century and even then, it is their works that receive the most attention and respect.
Is it because of my “modern day sensibilities” that I write about women who do important work but are denigrated and denied access to resources because of their sex? This never happened in the past? When these women come together to form community, to support one another, and to advocate for a cause—this would be unthinkable throughout the ages?
Or, are we reluctant to accept that we are the same people as our ancestors?
Check out Elizabeth Everett’s The Love Remedy here:
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When I write about the acceptance of and love for a trans man by his found family, I ask myself, were all men and women 200 years ago so narrow minded that this couldn’t be true? Weren’t there any people who simply loved who they loved and let the rest of the world go fuck themselves?
Yes. Yes, there were.
Yes, there were trans men and women and there were people who loved them. Yes, there were people of color who made discoveries, made babies (this is important folks, I am a romance writer), and led rich, joyful lives. Yes, there were women who provided abortion care in the context of health care, women who thought deeply about sexism and racism and the politics surrounding poverty in their country.
It is when I write scenarios with people who are kind to one another despite their differences—only those pieces of my work come into question.
I hear the same refrain that it’s not historically accurate.
Yes, it is. If history is a mirror, people have always been the same, it is the circumstances that have changed. Women have always been fierce and committed. People of color have always existed side by side with White people, some of whom were terrible and racist, but others who did not let differences in race cloud their judgement.
The historians who believed White men were the rightful stewards of other countries, who assumed power is equal to righteousness, who left women, people of color, queer, and disabled folk out of their historical narrative were looking in the mirror too.
I look in the mirror and I see women like those who surround me today. Hard working. Kind. Exuberant. Conscientious. Intelligent. Those same women are also sidelined, demeaned, and sometimes assaulted because they are women in a ‘man’s space.’
Say what you will, but I believe that people are kind and generous and good at heart. These qualities can turn off when fear and greed are the prime motivators of their government and media. These qualities can shine in times of crisis or quiet moments when they break bread with strangers.
History is a story we tell ourselves about the past.
I choose to write the history of unconditional love, the constant emotion throughout the centuries that has inspired everyone from the world’s greatest artists to a woman apothecary.
Someday, when our great-great-grandchildren are reading about us, I hope they read historical romance and embrace its message that everyone needs and deserves love. This hasn’t changed since we first evolved and I sincerely hope it never will.
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