I Wish I Didn’t Share A Genre With Theodore Beale

I wish I didn’t share an atmosphere with Theodore Beale. I have no words to describe my disgust and anger at this incident (link to Foz Meadows’ blog post about the incident, because Foz Meadows deserves traffic and racists don’t.)

I’d been thinking about putting up a modified version of a post I wrote over on Livejournal about SF fandom and romance novel fandom and my thoughts about (a) why they differ, and (b) why, when SF fandom goes bad, it tends to go catastrophically bad. And then this happened.

When I was young, I used to think ‘I don’t want a baby, I want a Nebula Award’. I think I can safely say that while I still don’t want a baby, I don’t want an award from any body that thinks Theodore Beale is a fit person to put on its judging panel either. [1] That he publicised his rant through the official SFWA Twitter account is just the rancid cherry on a cowpat sundae.

Look, I know N.K. Jemisin doesn’t need me to defend her; I don’t know her, and her career’s a lot more advanced than mine is. I know people are going to say ‘oh, he just wants a reaction’. But what’s the alternative? Not give a reaction, and let the racists think everyone who’s keeping quiet is agreeing with them?

[1] My fourteen-year-old self grew up to achieve (a) people she’d never met reading her books, (b) hair down to her waist and (c) all the bookshelves she wanted, so don’t feel too bad for her missing out on that one wish. She never did get to marry Jason Connery, which was another major aim, but she found someone she liked better.