8 Really Good SFF Series That Also Grapple With Racism

There’s no way to do N.K. Jemisin’s multiple award–winning trilogy justice in a blurb, I’m just gonna warn you. This series was inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement as well as reservation/boarding school histories of Indigenous peoples in Australia and elsewhere. In an interview with WIRED Magazine, Jemisin said the series “is, in a lot of ways, my processing the systemic racism that I live with, and see, and am trying to come to terms with.” That interest in power and systems of oppression is evident throughout the series, in which orogenes (those with the power to help control the geological instability plaguing future-Earth) are removed to a “school” called the Fulcrum where they are trained to use their powers to serve the government. Jemisin’s exploration of the intricacies of how oppression operates is one that has stuck with me far more vividly than many texts that don’t engage with SFF to explore power, racism, and oppression. And there’s a reason this series got so much critical acclaim — it’s ridiculously well written, richly conceived, and powerfully dynamic.

Don’t let the name fool you: Marie Lu’s Legend Trilogy is a four-book YA series. The first three books were published between 2011 and 2013, but in 2019 she published Rebel to bring the series up to date with political happenings. The series most obviously deals with class in its dystopian U.S. setting, but there’s a lot in there that touches on race, too (even if some of it is pretty subtle). Legend introduces readers to wealthy soon-to-be soldier June and slum-dwelling criminal (if you consider a Robin Hood figure “criminal”) Day, young teens from different walks of life in the Republic. As you might imagine, their storylines collide and there’s danger, desperation, romantic tension, and adventure. Prodigy and Champion follow the pair of teens as they navigate dangerous politics, bodily harm, and threats to their (remaining) family. Good thing Lu penned Rebel, because the original trilogy didn’t offer much by way of a conclusion. It shifts the narrative to Day’s younger brother, Eden, years in the future. Interestingly, the fourth book is set in Antarctica despite being inspired by the 2016 presidential elections and exploring “the systematic oppression of the lowest classes, who are unable to raise their status because of the lack of resources available to them.”

This YA urban fantasy series opens with Sierra planning the mural she wants to pain on a building near her home in Brooklyn. Unfortunately for her, shadowshapers (all manner of undead creatures and ghosts) descend upon the city and Sierra has to use her art to combat them. She ends up playing an important leading role in her Nuyorican community, and the subsequent books get more explicitly into the dangers Black and Brown youth face in the contemporary world. As a bonus, if you like this trilogy then you’ll be happy to know there are two additional novellas that follow characters in the same story world: Ghost Girl in the Corner and Dead Light March.

Fair warning: if you pick up The Grace of Kings (book one of Liu’s four-book Dandelion Dynasty), you’re in it for the long haul since the series weighs in at something in the realm of 3,600 pages. I’ll say this, though: it’s 100% worth it. The books each have their own distinct perspective (sometimes presenting narratives that directly contradict or challenge those from previous books), which makes sense when you consider Liu’s concept of a “silkpunk aesthetic” involved developing a “narrative structure built with elements adopted from both the Western and Chinese literary traditions.” Additionally, it demanded a lot of thought around what the world might look like “and what sort of Orientalizing pitfalls had to be avoided to thwart the expectations of the dominant Western interpretive framework.” In other words, Liu sought to develop an aesthetic for his saga that would challenge racism in literary aesthetics and readerly expectations alike. The result is incredible.

I had to list No Gods, No Monsters even though it’s the first book of a projected series and none of the others have been published at the time of this article. It’s just such a timely book. It takes a good, long look at racist violence. It kicks off with Laina struggling with grief over her brother’s death at the hands of a police officer. When a mysterious stranger provides her with footage of the shooting — footage that also reveals her brother’s ability to shapeshift — she puts it online. Things spiral from there, as you might imagine. But the resultant story is a powerful one that touches on racism and its many ripple effects (plus, you know, real monsters and secret societies and stuff).