Inside a tent, an individual wearing a beanie thoughtfully reads a book, possibly exploring themes of cultural diversity in literature.

As a writer and reader, I am unequivocally conscious of the blatant lack of cultural representation evident in the art I consume.

Historical power dynamics, not limited to patriarchy and white supremacy, have catalysed a passive acceptance for this inequality by engraining prejudice into Western society and culture. This results in those who are otherwise supportive of diversity remaining acquiescent, and others believing that such discrimination is unproblematic. While this inequity is reflected in the literary world, storytelling has historically acted as a medium to expose injustice and advocate for marginalised communities. Yet power structures supporting mainstream groups ensures that many such texts remain difficult to obtain and lack recognition in contemporary society 

I am embarrassed to admit that the first book I read by a culturally diverse woman was this year, partly due to my own fault of not seeking out such an author sooner. But more significantly due to the fact that I was never exposed to such authors – their stories not often easily accessible. This seems to be the norm in Western societies, and the comfortable bubble created by and for cultural majorities makes it difficult for diversity to be considered in mainstream literature.  

As writer Magdalene Abraha notes, authors who have fractured through this bubble encounter alternative obstacles, often feeling pressured to write on topics of race, discrimination, and gender, or ‘write what you know’. She goes on to identify how authors have been rejected on the merits that their books aren’t representative enough of these topics. However, it is not the responsibility of culturally diverse women to educate others on the reality of race, gender, and discrimination. This underlying expectation limits them by their identity rather than their creativity, contrasting with the artistic freedom that white male authors enjoy.  

The alternative side to this concept is that stories that do explore discrimination, race, and the identities of culturally diverse women are often seen as being political texts. So much so that many stories, like The Hate You Give by Angie Thomashave been banned due to ‘heavy content’, where this ‘heavy content’ is an accurate representation of reality for a cultural minority.  

Cynthia Robinson Young, another woman and author of colour, states that “…pretty much everything I write is political. It isn’t intentional. I thought it was life”, for even in the mindset of contemporary society, cultural representation is viewed as a challenge against white supremacy. As a young writer this is an odd and somewhat unsettling concept to comprehend, that my own story should be considered inherently political.  

The paradoxical nature of the literary world offers the illusion of cultural celebration, advocating that ethnically diverse authors are free to write their truths and pour their culture onto the page. Many bookstores now have a special category dedicated to culturally diverse authors, protagonists are more diversified, stories are more subjective, and social media trends offer recommendations to diversify one’s bookshelf, a collection of the same popular books recycled by different content creators. Although, I fear that this is just a trendy facade.  

For how many culturally diverse women can create without their gender or ethnicity interfering with their writing, book sales, promotions, and overall ability to become published in the first place? It is a cage masked by the title ‘freedom’.  

Editor Seema Mahaniam highlights how systematic oppression of culturally diverse women still exists in the literary world. They are not granted the same opportunities as white authors and should their debut novel fail to meet advancements, it is viewed as a reflection of all ethnic authors. As a culturally diverse woman, I can’t help but feel a sense of bitterness to this knowledge. Why is it that in contemporary society, in a world where equality and diversity is spoken about at nearly every corner, my identity should still be seen as a barrier?  

Literary agents say that publishers’ appetite for books that examine race and racism has dwindled… the literary landscape still skews heavily toward white writers.”

The movement for cultural inclusion has been ongoing for decades, and statical evidence indicates that little change has been made despite recent advertisements of cultural inclusion. The 2014 hashtag #WeNeedDiverseBooks and 2020’s #PublishingPaidMe revealed an alarming discrepancy between the book sales and advancements for white and culturally diverse authors. A 2018 study by The First Nations and People of Colour Writers Count indicated that of 1000 Australian books only 1% were by First Nation authors and 7% by culturally diverse authors. In 2023, Lee & Low released a report indicating that white employees overwhelmed their publishing workforce, totalling 72.5%. Such statistical evidence reveals the reality of cultural diversity in literature; that is to say, it’s fictitious.  

Of course, ethnic representation in stories is significant to offer culturally diverse readers the opportunity to feel a sense of empowerment within self-identity and culture. However, I never found myself bothered by this as a child. I loved stories purely for what they offered a shy and somewhat lonely little girl. Magic, escapism from the racism battled in school, and a sense of wonder in a not-so-wonderful world.  

It was normal that all authors were white, as were most characters, and therefore I didn’t question it. Rather, I sought connections with characters via their personalities, and it wasn’t until I read Zoya Patel’s Reflections on Representation that I realised how common this experience is for many culturally diverse readers. Through analysis of her personal experience and literary ethics, she explores how cultural representation in literature presents an opportunity for readers from cultural majorities to engage with diversity by understanding the perspectives, struggles, and morals of characters who depict ethnic minorities. Our shared experience indicates that culturally diverse women have fostered an ability to seek self-representation in literature regardless of cultural divergences. Empathising with human experience is not limited by ethnicity, culture, or gender identity and is something any reader can achieve. In reflection of this concept, I hope that the rationing of culturally diverse women is removed with the continuous challenging of white supremacy standards.   

Storytelling holds the capability to offer avenues of understanding and compassion, promoting equality while exposing the realities of ethnic and gender diversity for many writers. Literature, like all art, is reflective of our world and thus should accurately communicate this diversity through both art and artist. As a writer and reader, I hope for the day when books by culturally diverse women may sit on a bookshelf, alongside other works, without the need for justification or the labelling of their divergence.  

 

A Cage Called Freedom: Cultural Diversity in Contemporary Literature by Sheona Tattersall is one of the Highly Commended essays in our Young Writers’ 2025 Competition. Find out more about the competition here.     

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