Writers: They're People Too

So, I was rereading our illustrious editor-in-chief's post on Amsterdam the other day, and this paragraph made me stop:

"I understand the desire to hold on to the physical manifestations of artists and writers: their pens, their grocery lists, their dog-eared books. Proof that they existed, that the history books didn't make them up. A reminder to us that the man existed before the museum. That he breathed on this artwork just like we're doing now even though we're not supposed to be so close."

Alexandria's post reminded me just how important it is to remember that writers are human beings, not mystical concentrations of essence that spew forth words on command. I, of all people, should understand this. I mean, I call myself a writer, and so, I'm aware that when I sit down at my computer, I've often just finished cleaning the toilet or vacuuming my rug or declogging the bathtub. There are many things I do that have nothing to do with writing, and yet influence it deeply.


However, throughout my college education, I learned relatively little about the writers I studied in literature classes across two departments (English and French). Only in one class–Women Writers and Feminist Theory–did my professor start each book with a discussion about the author's life story. In that class, I learned that Virginia Woolf had a supportive husband and female lovers, saw pictures of the Bronte sisters' house and the moors that show up so frequently in their work and learned other details about Toni Morrison, Jeanette Winterson and others that are preserved in some notebook in a drawer. Perhaps it's not surprising that I learned the importance of writers' lives in a Gender Studies class. After all, certain branches of feminism suggest that we reclaim the importance of the domestic (traditionally a feminized, and therefore inferior, realm).



As I continued to read more widely–writers of color, queer writers, female writers–learning about writers' lives became par for the course. And yet, I've noticed that we spend the most time on a writer's life when they are not straight, not white, not male or all three. Otherness makes a life interesting and relevant, apparently. Privilege does not. For the purposes of this discussion, let's define privilege as some quality (which you may or may not control) that gives you an advantage over people who do not have that quality. This can be your economic situation, your gender identity, your sexuality, your skin, your level of education and a lot of other things. A lot of us aren't even conscious of privilege (ours and others'), and that's part of the problem.


If it sounds like I'm arguing that we need to learn more about the lives of privileged writers, I am (and I've made a similar argument on this very site before). Before you throw your hands up and start shouting me down, let me add a very important caveat. This learning must not come at the expense of learning about the lives of writers who aren't. Let me explain.


If we learn, again and again, the stories of writers who were born into money, whose parents had fabulous connections and who are now editing major newspapers, magazines or journals, we will be able to see how their privilege functions. If we compare the volume of those stories with those of writers who aren't privileged, cannot spend all day writing and succeed or fail, we will be able to see how their experiences differ because of a lack of privilege. We will also be able to see, from a simple calculation, how many privileged writers there really are.


After the results of this US election, it is especially important to learn about the lives of writers (and people in general) who differ from us politically (it is equally important to read the things that they write, even if it's not autobiographical, as this excellent article suggests). For those people in positions of power, those to whom the new administration will cater, it is important to learn about the lives of the people who may not have the same privileges they do and how politics has and will impact those lives. For those of us who are outside certain positions of power, it is important to learn (if we do not know already) how the other half really lives. Only then can we take action, through writing and other methods, to make this country and this world a better place for all people.

Read more of Rukmini's work on Floodmark.