by Andrew K Hoe
Congratulations! You, a BIPOC author, scored an acceptance at a podcast venue. You submitted a piece that comes from your lived experience as a BIPOC, a piece that contributes to the vital discussions your community has been having. And because the venue is a podcast, they will print your story and release it in audio form!
Having the right voice for your story can mean so much. Imagine how you, a Visayan speaker, would feel hearing a Visayan narrator bring your words to life! What would that mean for Anglophones who don’t know about Visayan identity, but should?
Yet narration adds a layer of consideration regarding representation.
For instance, if you’re a Black Caribbean Scot, how would you feel if your piece were narrated by a white performer from the US? If you’re a First Nations Mohawk, would employing a French Canadian narrator as the voice of your story symbolize something to your positionality, considering the history between these two groups?
Put generally: How would BIPOC authors self-advocate for vocal representation?
Podcasts function much like older radio shows, including host commentary, mood music, and advertisements. Even non-podcast venues that don’t offer these elements may still provide audio versions of stories for readers with disabilities—or for readers who simply enjoy listening to narrated stories. Like many publications that do the vital work of providing access to written art, these venues often operate as labors of love. Even beloved, professional venues such as Fiyah and Lightspeed face constant funding pressure.
Meaning: Voice narration is informed by cost. Thus, each venue has its own approach. One venue might employ a single professionally trained actor/narrator, while another might manage a stable of sincere volunteers. Narrators could produce from soundproofed recording studios—but more likely from personal laptops.
Ideally, if your story is written with Hakka spoken by characters fluent in the language, the venue should locate a Hakka-speaking narrator. Or if you’re Native Hawaiian and your story features such characters, the venue should cast Kānaka Maoli narrators. A skilled narrator fitting your piece is found, and that narrator uploads a nuanced, technically proficient rendition.
That’s the ideal though. What issues could complicate this narration process?
There’s no narrator fitting your story available. What are you willing to accept? Perhaps your story features a Pakistani setting. Nobody is answering calls for a narrator from that locale…but a Pakistani American reader is available. Is it crucial that your narrator be from Pakistan?
There’s a Korean narrator fitting your story, but the editor/producer gets back to you: The recording isn’t usable. It happens! The narrator may not have decent recording equipment. Or maybe that narrator just had a baby and can’t record anymore. Granted, Asian cultures are often stereotyped as a single monolith and shouldn’t be conflated with each other, but would you accept a non-Korean East Asian narrator if the only other options are non-Asian?
The editor/producer doesn’t inhabit your BIPOC positionality as, say, a mixed-race person, and has selected a white narrator. White narrators are always readily available; BIPOC narrators take more effort to find. Because BIPOC enter white-dominant spaces and have adapted to the point of being mistaken for white on the phone, it may be acceptable for a BIPOC to narrate a white-authored story where voice and identity aren’t foregrounded. However, asking a white narrator to do the inverse can invite problems of representation. If you happen to be half-white, half-Asian, and your piece involves a similar positionality, does having a white narrator voice your story symbolize anything negative for you? While conversations about literary blackfacing have sensitized editors to issues surrounding white narrators voicing non-white parts, problematic decision-making still occurs. Some reminding might be needed!
So, how can BIPOC authors self-advocate?
You care about voice representation and want to ask…but will the editor-producer revoke your acceptance if you’re too pushy? You won’t hear your piece until release day. There’s no one right way to broach this topic. Is it possible to ask (nicely!) about how narration is handled when communicating with the editor-producer? This has worked for me, but narrators can be assigned independent of the author, that decision being final.
You follow the podcast and are a fan of a particular narrator—can you make a request? Awesome! Following the venue means you’ve noted narrators you like. Yes, it’s possible, but not the rule. Some editor-producers would welcome your suggestions because it saves them from selecting someone on their own. But other editor-producers might prefer making these decisions on their own.
If the venue takes suggestions, what if your preferred narrator isn’t available? I’ve seen authors suggest outside narrators not employed by the venue with mixed results. If you try this, do you have links to samples and contact info for the editor-producer to investigate? If it’s someone you’re acquainted with, is your narrator acquaintance okay with volunteer work or token pay? Also, a venue’s narrators have proven they can produce usable audio files by a deadline. Is your outside narrator reliable?
You feel you’re the best narrator for your own piece. It’s possible! But not always so. There’s usually an application and vetting process to become a narrator. Do you have recording equipment? Are you an expressive reader whose voice comes across clearly in audio?
Some final considerations:
Be understanding—the perfect fit can’t always be found. Pronunciation keys help, but could also be a hindrance. There’s a uniqueness between Cantonese spoken in Hong Kong and Cantonese spoken in Malaysia, and asking a Malaysian Chinese speaker to imitate a Hong Kong speaker adds another layer of challenge.
Communicate your deal-breakers early if representation is foundational to your accepted piece. Be aware of what can symbolize something negative to you.
Listen to podcasts. Listen when the narrator clearly doesn’t speak the heritage language used in the story (yes, this happens!). Likewise, listen to podcasts where the narrator clearly has cultural-linguistic proficiency. Use your feelings to target which venues to submit to according to your needs as a BIPOC author.
On this last point, familiarizing yourself with podcasts is the best way to prepare for vocal representation. Becoming an avid listener of podcasts can help you decide which to target for submissions, and so can speaking to authors whose work has been voiced at certain venues. There are “shadow-sides” to all forms of publishing, and slippage of best practices does happen. Even speaking to narrators about their experiences performing for a venue can be illuminating. Above all, be understanding of a venue’s casting. If there are definite no-nos for you, communicate them politely, clearly, and early—but the perfect narrational fit for a story may not be what’s expected. Cases like a Nigerian female narrator doing an outstanding job voicing a Nigerian male protagonist do happen. And may it happen for you!
Andrew K Hoe’s short fiction appears in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Diabolical Plots, Highlights for Children, and elsewhere. He loves reading aloud and did the voice narration for his first professional sale. Find out more at andrewkhoe.wordpress.com.