I’ve heard a few complaints from readers about the fact that Deka’s role in The Kingdom of Gods isn’t advertised in the jacket copy. That’s my fault, partly; I do get a say in the copy, and it seemed more important to me to emphasize the novel’s plot rather than its relationships. All things considered, these books are marketed as fantasy, not romance, and Deka is more important as a love interest than he is as a mover and shaker in the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. Not that love interests are meaningless, mind you. Since love and desire are key drivers of plot in most ancient epics — and As You Know, Readers, ancient epics were my inspiration for these stories — it seems only proper to give the love interests their due spotlight here, if not in the marketing.
So, Deka. I intended from the beginning that he and Shahar would reflect some of the issues present in multiracial families — which, as I’ve mentioned here before, has been a part of my own family experience. Probably a part of most American families’ experiences in some way; race is an ever-present undercurrent in this society.
In my mother’s family, for example, my grandmother was half white — but wholly black, per the “one-drop rule”. Her facial features were closer to the African than the European template, so I doubt she could’ve “passed” as white, but she was so pale that she burned at the drop of a hat, she had blue eyes, and her hair was of a peculiar variety that I’ve only ever seen in mixed-race individuals: very black, mostly straight, so shiny that it always looked wet. Because of her looks, she didn’t have to take a job as a maid or nanny, like most black women of the time; she was able to get a job working in a (white kids’) school cafeteria as a cook. It didn’t pay much — she supplemented her income by working as a seamstress, and the family ate a lot of produce from her garden when times were tough — but it had a pension, which allowed her to stay independent until she died, and pass on a home as inheritance to one of her children. She married a black man who was similarly pale and straight-haired, who could pass — and possibly as a result of this, he got an even better deal: a union job down at the docks. In those days, union jobs were usually reserved for white men. (Granddaddy is rumored to have said, “They never asked if I was black, so I didn’t tell them I was.” The original Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell!) Between these two strokes of fortune, my grandparents were able to build a house (not buy it; in those days banks usually wouldn’t make home loans to black families) and send their kids to the local HBCUs. (While white universities became available to my grandparents’ and parents’ generation around that time, HBCUs were safer, and there was a better chance of a student there actually getting an education instead of death threats, etc.)
This is all relative fortune, note: the family was just poor instead of dirt poor, compared to their neighbors. But I share it to illustrate how even slight differences in racial composition, identity, and perception can matter in a racially-conscious society.
Shahar and Deka are like my grandmother and grandfather: both multiracial, but Shahar is able to pass for full-blooded Amn and Deka isn’t. Shahar, therefore, is more fortunate, at least on a superficial level: she’s the accepted heir, gets a nicer room and more toys, gets told at every turn that she’s beautiful and clever, and is named after the family’s greatest heroine. Deka, meanwhile, is named after the family’s most infamous failure: the Dekarta of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, on whose watch the Enefadeh broke free. He gets treated like most multiracial children in Amn society: barely acknowledged, blatantly treated and thought of as “lesser”, and eventually rejected. Also, he probably couldn’t help but notice that his sister’s fortunes improved once he was no longer around to remind their relatives that she wasn’t as “pure” as she looked. Deka’s a little worse-off than Grandma and Granddaddy, because he doesn’t know what his visible race is for most of KoG; this deprives him of someone to identify with. Instead all he knows is what he’s not: Amn.
Spoilers for The Kingdom of Gods from here forth. Continue reading ›