Nicole Givens Kurtz :: Blog

Recently science fiction great, Octavia Butler, died unexpectedly and sudden. She left in her wake a frigid scramble to put her enormous work, gift, hell, life into words. Everyone’s who ever read her work and fell in complete torment—for her next work often took a great amount of time between—then words to describe her seems pitifully inadequate.


Not wanting to feel alone in my mourning, I read a couple of others blogs about Ms. Butler. One even had her name wrong. They had her listed as Octavia Brown. This in and of itself is a small matter although I found it totally amazing that the author hadn’t heard of her. Anyone can make a mistake, especially if they are not familiar with her work, which the author of the blog confessed upfront. He pondered if there were other African American science fiction writers.


I, of course, left him a hyperlink to my recent 10 best black science fiction writers. How can I allow someone to wonder around thinking and believing that only two African Americans wrote sf? I wouldn’t be doing my civic duty as an African American, female author if I let that pass, now would I?


Which leads me to the point of this blog…


Another blog I recently read argued about Butler being labeled—forever—as a black science fiction writer instead of just one damn good sf writer. Should the label stick to her in the historical, great legends of science fiction?


To me labels are misleading—in cases—and can limit one’s appeal to an audience. If identified as solely an African American author, then assumptions are made about me and my work before the audience/reader has even had an opportunity to read my stuff. These assumptions could go so far as to drive the reader away.


Assuming—of course—that the assumptions are themselves negative. They could, after all be positive assumptions.


This question came up on another blog about Jim Crow’s Publishing world. Does race matter? Should there be segregated sections of bookstores (i.e. the African American section)? I live in New Mexico, and many of our big chain bookstores have “native American” sections. Is this a good or bad thing?


Should a writer like Butler, who’s won a Nebula and a Hugo, sport the label of “black” science fiction writer, or should she simply be a “great writer?”


Her characters, storylines and works often had black main characters and situations. They dealt with those of darker skins, so does this mean race mattered to her and thus the label should stick?


No. Just because one writes about situations or has characters of various races doesn’t mean the book should be labeled a “Hispanic” book, or whatever. I think the labels start to stick more because the author and the characters of his or her books share a common ethnicity.


I want everyone to read my books and stories. That doesn’t mean I am ashamed of being African American. I’m not. So if someone attaches the label of African American science fiction writer to my name, I am not going to be upset. Though I will readily admit I’d like to be accepted as a science fiction writer first and foremost who just happens to be African American and a female.


Still a fantastic, heck, legend, science fiction hall of-famer, Butler doesn’t need any labels. She was simply brilliant.
That’s a label too!


Darn.

I am sad, grief stricken really. As many of you that read my blog posts know, I am African American, a science fiction/fantasy writer and big time fan of Octavia Butler. It is with the upmost grief and sadness that I can't even find words for, that her death has left in its wake.

Octavia Butler was my idol, my inspiration and my belief that I can do this whole sf writing thing, despite my being African American and a woman. She opened doors, windows, and ripped off ceilings for others in her wake, others whose names are listed in my African American SF writer blog for Black History Month.

She won many awards, namely a Hugo and several others. My favorite books were the Xenogensis series and Kindred.

I was fortunate to meet her about two years ago, in Seattle at the Black to the Future conference. There I gave her a copy of my book, Browne Candidate, and asked her sign my copy of Dark Matter and other books I own that she'd written. She did so with kindness, grace and intelligence that seemed unwordly and amazing all at once.


As the conference plugged along, I watched her interact with people. Ms. Butler gave and gave and gave. She seemed pleased that so many African Americans were interested in science fiction and even wrote it.

She spoke there as keynote speaker and it was as if God had stepped down from the heavens to whisper the secrets of life into our ears. A pin could drop and it would've exploded in sound. I remembered the packed room, people leaning in to hear her every word. Tape recorders set to lap up each diamond jewel of advice, history, and trial she discussed.


Now that she's returned to her mountain top, there is a gaping hole in science fiction yet-to-be-told stories, where Ms. Butler used to be ready to deliever another amazing tale. I have no doubts that now, many of those who loved her will stretch that hole ever wider and fill it with the greatness which she weld.

I am going to do my best to make her proud and to give science fiction that is not only readable, but stories she would also have liked. As a disciple, I will give nothing short of 120% as she did.

Goodbye Ms. Butler, may your many bravery, courage and outright talent survive until the end of time.