How to Be an Ally: Lessons from Brandon Sanderson and his Cosmere

 (Note: This is written from the point of view as being an ally to someone with autism or mental illness, because that's where my experience is. I believe that these lessons can be applied to different groups as well)

    Brandon Sanderson has a lot of fans in the ASD community.  It’s not just that his books appeal to so many “autistic” qualities by creating an intricate Universe (the Cosmere) complete with consistent, well defined rules for his magic system, where multiple books/series are intertwined and “There’s always another secret,” which encourages re-reading and theorizing for fans. You see, Brandon (I know it’s generally respectful to refer to authors by their last name, but he has a warm relationship with his fans. Besides, when I asked Anne about it, she said, “Go with Brandon. He’s totally your bro; you’ve pre-ordered like 10 things of his.”) has written two excellent characters on the autism spectrum, Steris Harms and Renarin Kholin.  Both of characters have traits of ASD that clearly influence them without going into the tired stereotypes we often see.  Though both characters sometimes have difficulties in relationships, neither dramatically changes to fit in. Instead, other characters (and the reader) come to understand them better and

Fan art of Steris (left) and Renarin (Right)

appreciate them for who they are. This is true of Steris, in particular, as she’s introduced as a potential wife in an arranged marriage to our protagonist, Wax.  She is presented as the “wrong choice” in a budding love triangle, but by the time she is slipping Wax a back-up vial of magical metals she packed, because a dutiful wife takes interest in her husband’s activities, that is suspended in cod liver oil instead of his preferred whiskey, because a dutiful wife also is concerned for her husband’s health, I know very few readers that are not on “Team Steris”. Steris’s analytical mind, incessant planning, straight speaking, and not quite fitting in socially have made her many a reader’s favorite. She’s an excellent example of a well done autistic character.

    However, it’s not these two characters, or rather not these two characters alone, that give Brandon near sainthood status in much of the ASD community.  It actually starts with a Sanderson’s first published book, Elantris, and another ASD character, Adien. Unlike Steris and Renarin, Adien hits many of the autism stereotypes: major problems interacting socially, constant stimming, and he is a math savant.  Near the end of the book when Aiden is magically healed, his social skills are dramatically improved while he is still a math savant, as if he was able to get rid of the “bad” parts autism while keeping the “good” parts.  After the release of Elantris, a number of members of the ASD community came up to Brandon and basically said, “Adien isn’t a bad character per say, but he hits a lot of the stereotypes we constantly see. That’s not our experience with autism and we are tired of seeing the same character over and over again.” Brandon basically responded, “You are absolutely right. Thank you for sharing with me, I’m going to do better.”  That response and Sanderson following up the words with deeds make him a great ally, and it’s a model that I try to follow with being an ally to other groups.

     Brandon get’s the first part of being an ally correct right off the bat: he intentionally includes underrepresented groups in effort to give them voice. But every step after that is more important. When approached by members of the community, he doesn’t make excuses; he listens and acknowledges the mistakes he has made. Next, Brandon didn’t stop his efforts after the first screw-up, he purposefully sought out help to increase his understanding. He has worked closely with autistic people when writing Steris and Renarin to get their input and corrections and make sure the characters are true to life and what those represented want them to be. Through his stories and other characters, he has illustrated it’s not that autistic people that need to be “fixed”, but we need to be understood. Finally, he extended the lessons he learned with other groups. 

I’ve written on Facebook how Kaladin’s struggle with depression really spoke to me and I think that a major reason is Brandon did the research of reading, talking to people who suffered depression, and getting their feedback. I know others have expressed similar feelings about characters with addiction, or PTSD, or dissociative identity disorder to name a few. In all of these cases, characters go through struggles related to their illness or disabilities that are realistic and sometimes difficult allowing those with similar issues to connect with them deeply and gives those without firsthand experience a peek inside our lives. At the same time, all these characters are full people, with other characteristics and struggles that are relatable to anyone. This balance of acknowledging the struggles of a specific group while not reducing them to merely those issues is the core of being a good ally.

    Another thing Brandon has done is learn about some of issues people face in dealing with others unlike themselves and illustrate some of the awkwardness and uneasiness that can arise. Two scenes stick out in my mind, the first was between the Lopen, a Radiant (magical fighter) with one arm and a huge number jokes about it, and Rysn, a merchant who is paralyze from the waist down, after Lopen cracked a joke about having no legs:

       Lopen,” Rushu repeated, “that was not appropriate.”

       “It’s all right, Ardent Rushu,” Rysn said.

       “You shouldn’t have to listen to things like that, Brightness,” the ardent said. “It’s unseemly to make mockery of your ailment.”

       “The thing that’s unseemly,” the Lopen said, “is how people treat us sometimes. Rysn, they ever ask about how it happened? And then get angry if you don’t want to discuss it?”

       “All the time,” she said. “Ash’s eyes, they keep poking at me, like I’m a riddle that exists only to entertain them. Others get quiet around me, and awkward.”

       “Yeah. I used to hate how folks would pretend I was gonna break at any moment.”

       “Like some kind of fragile vase that will tip off the shelf if upset. They can’t see me. They see the chair.”

       “They act so uncomfortable,” the Lopen continued.“They don’t want to look, and don’t want to bring it up, but it hovers about the conversation like a storming spren. But if you have the right joke . . .”

       “Brightness Rysn shouldn’t have to crack jokes at her own expense in order to make other people comfortable with their personal insecurities.”

       “Yup, true,” the Lopen said. “She shouldn’t have to.”

       Rushu nodded curtly, as if she’d won the argument. But Rysn understood the tone in the Lopen’s voice. She shouldn’t have to do such things, but life was unfair, and so you controlled the situation as best you could. Strange, to find such wisdom in a man she’d initially dismissed as silly. She inspected him lying on the deck, and he raised a fist in a gesture of solidarity.

       “Radiant Lopen,” Rysn said, “. . . um, what do you call a Thaylen who can’t walk?”

“Not sure, gancha.”

“Names. From afar.”

Brandon captured some an issue of many well-meaning people where they don’t know how to interact with those disabilities and end up infantilizing them. Many of us (and I include myself in the group) are uncomfortable when our toddler yells something like, “Look, that man has only one leg!” in the middle of Target. Usually we shush them, like it’s a big secret or something to be ashamed about when it’s almost always better to talk about it matter-of-factly: “Yes, some people may have lost a leg because they got hurt.  Some of them use a wheel chair to help them move, others have an artificial leg.”  It’s part of everyday life and we should treat it as such. On the flip side, we need to listen to what people need to make their lives easier to adapt. There is a phrase in the disability community called “inspiration porn” that refers to feel-good stories about someone who is disabled, often for accomplishing a rather mundane task that is more difficult for them. This misses the goal of being an ally, as the leader of a Disability as Diversity Seminar I attended said, “Don’t laud me for accomplishing a basic task the hard way. Make it easier for me to accomplish the task.” This means that we, as a society, need to listen to what accommodations will help and do our best to provide them; or even better, make it part of the “normal” surroundings.

    The second section that jumped out at me was a discussion between Kaladin, one of the original Knight Radiant who suffers from severe depression, and Liran, Kaladin’s father and a trained surgeon (though think Renaissance level medicine):

       “I spent my entire life trying to help,” Lirin said softly. “And I thought that the best way to help lunatics was to send them to the ardents. Storms, I did it a few times. Lakin’s son, remember? I assumed they’d be specialists…”

       “Nobody knowns anything,” Kaladin said. Because they don’t want to know. People like me scare them.”

       “Don’t include yourself in that group, son,” Lirin said, adjusting his spectacles as he held up a medical chart.

       “Why shouldn’t I?” Kaladin asked.

       “You’re not…” Lirin lowered the chart.

       “Insane?” Kaladdin asked. “Theat’s the problem, isn’t it? We don’t see them as our brothers, sisters, children.  They make us feel helpless. We’re afraid because we can’t bind a broken mind the same way we do a broken finger.”

       “So we pretend we’ve done the best we can by sending them away,” Lirin said. “Or we tell ourselves they’re not really hurt. Since we can’t see their wounds. You’re right, son. Thank you for challenging me.”

Kaladin on a bad day

There is a lot in that little exchange and Kaladin touches on part of it, that we tend to ignore the mentally ill and feel more comfortable if they are out of sight and out of mind. Another thing that struck me is we often give the status of “one of the good ones” to individual members in any group we are looking down upon.  “Oh, you’re not like them, I’m comfortable around you. You’re one of the good ones, not like the rest of those mentally ill/blacks/gays/immigrants/fill in the blank.” Kaladin’s father did that and was called on it. I’ve heard it done with autistic kids, “Oh, I didn’t mean autistic like you or your son…I meant those other ones.”  Seeing this called out was wonderful and additional kudos for illustrating gracefully accepting the correction by Lirin.

            The last lesson Brandon illustrates is understanding that struggles, and therefore being an ally, are a lifelong process. A favorite scene of mine is when a Knight Radiant named Teft, who had been struggling with addiction for much of the book, comes to terms with the fact that 1) he has responsibilities and 2) others will continue to love him no matter how much he screws up and hating himself won’t change that. This realization propels Teft to the next level magic wise and he literally helps save the day. After that triumph, he meets with Kaladin and confesses he still has the cravings for his drug of choice. Kaladin responds that all their powers don’t change who they are, and they still have to struggle. Winning a battle isn’t the end of it. Having a great week doesn’t stop depression. Getting marriage equality doesn’t stop homophobia. Passing the Civil Rights acts didn’t stop racism. Those struggling don’t get a break, which means they still need allies.

            So let’s review. In order to be an ally you need to: 1) Find out about the struggles of a group and individuals 2) Listen to their needs and support them 3) Apologize and fix screwups you will make 4) Make sure you are amplifying what they want their message to be 5) And you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life. If that seems like a lot of work, it is. Being a good ally isn’t an easy task, but I have good news: you don’t have to be perfect. To quote Brandon during a book signing:

What are the “disadvantages”? I am walking through a minefield, and I have blown my foot off multiple times. And I think this is part of that whole failure thing as a writer. If I hadn't perhaps done it poorly in some of my books, I wouldn't have had the chance to talk to people who are like, “I really appreciate the book and what you're trying. Here's how, if you ever did this again, you might approach making it feel more realistic.” And that made me a better person, not just a better writer, and so in some ways that disadvantage is the advantage. But that is the thing. I have blown my foot off on several landmines. And I will probably continue to do so.

When we strive to be an ally, we’re in a minefield because we don’t know what others are going through; we’re all more aware of the struggles we go through and don’t notice the ones that other people have. We’ll make mistakes, we’ll inadvertently disrespect someone, we’ll sometimes be really uncomfortable. That’s part of being human. Being a good ally is about realizing that, realizing you can do better, and continuing to help. As the First Ideal of the Knights Radiant says, “Journey before Destination.”