Writing as Resistance: How Fiction Confronts Injustice

Stories are more than an escape—they are a way of seeing the world more clearly. Fiction does not only entertain; it resists silence, challenges corruption, and questions injustice. When truth feels too heavy or too dangerous to speak plainly, stories step in. They allow us to process pain, confront oppression, and imagine justice where the real world often fails.

As both a writer and a nurse educator, I have seen how silence can wound. In mental health, silence often hides trauma. In communities, silence allows injustice to fester. Writing becomes resistance because it refuses to allow those silences to remain unbroken.

A Tradition of Resistance Through Story

The idea of literature as resistance is not new. Classic works have long spoken against systems of inequality. Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird (1960) forced America to look at racial injustice through the innocent perspective of a child. George Orwell’s 1984 (1949) revealed the dangers of surveillance, authoritarianism, and the erosion of truth. Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (1985) became both a warning and a symbol of women’s resistance against oppression.

These stories endure because they do what resistance requires: they disrupt silence. As hooks (1990) explained, storytelling becomes political when it challenges dominant narratives. By writing from marginalized perspectives, authors reshape cultural memory and confront what society prefers to forget. Fiction, then, becomes both mirror and hammer—it reflects what is real and shatters what must be broken.

The Psychology of Resistance

The power of fiction is not only cultural—it is deeply psychological. Narrative therapy emphasizes that telling one’s story allows individuals to reclaim identity and power (White & Epston, 1990). Similarly, research shows that reading fiction increases empathy by allowing readers to temporarily inhabit other perspectives (Mar, Oatley, & Peterson, 2009).

When readers connect to a character who refuses to accept injustice, they begin to imagine what resistance might look like in their own lives. Fiction becomes a rehearsal space for courage. Each story reminds us that small acts of defiance matter—and that hope can be a form of resistance in itself.

My Own Resistance on the Page

In my novel The Wrong Kind of Mercy, Avra Winslow becomes a vessel for this truth. Her story is not only about grief—it is about what happens when grief refuses to remain silent. Avra’s pursuit of justice mirrors real struggles: the silenced widow, the overlooked victim, the whistleblower ignored until it is too late. Through her, I wanted to show that fiction can do what official records and courtrooms often do not—demand truth, no matter how painful.

Other works I’ve written carry the same thread. In Letters of Glass, Kassie Hale’s battle with depression resists cultural silence around mental illness, showing that brokenness is not failure but survival. In the Laurel series, technology becomes a tool of surveillance and control—yet the very act of telling those stories is resistance against the quiet acceptance of unchecked power.

For me, resistance looks like giving voice to the characters who would otherwise remain unseen.

Why Resistance Matters Now

We live in an age of overwhelming information, yet voices are still silenced. Systemic injustices remain hidden behind bureaucracy, fear, and power. Stories cut through that. They create empathy, stir outrage, and remind us that silence is never neutral—it always favors the oppressor (Freire, 1970).

Fiction gives voice to the marginalized, asks uncomfortable questions, and allows readers to imagine a better world. Injustice survives when people look away. Stories resist by refusing to let us.

That is why I write. Not only to entertain, but to resist silence. To remind myself—and my readers—that truth, even when dangerous, is worth telling. Because sometimes the most powerful form of mercy is not forgiveness, but exposure.

A Final Reflection

What stories have changed the way you see injustice? Which characters gave you courage when the world seemed silent? I invite you to share them. After all, resistance begins when stories are spoken—and remembered.

References

Atwood, M. (1985). The Handmaid’s Tale. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Continuum.

Hooks, B. (1990). Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics. South End Press.

Lee, H. (1960). To Kill a Mockingbird. J. B. Lippincott & Co.

Mar, R. A., Oatley, K., & Peterson, J. B. (2009). Exploring the link between reading fiction and empathy: Ruling out individual differences and examining outcomes. Communications, 34(4), 407–428. https://doi.org/10.1515/COMM.2009.025

Orwell, G. (1949). Nineteen Eighty-Four. Secker & Warburg.

White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends. W. W. Norton.