Rebecca Solnit is the kind of writer I want to be in lifetimes to come. Her article, The Problem with Men who Explain Things, called something out of me.
In her words:
“Every woman knows what I’m talking about. It’s the presumption that makes it hard, at times, for any woman in any field; that keeps women from speaking up and from being heard when they dare; that crushes young women into silence by indicating, the way harassment on the street does, that this is not their world. It trains us in self-doubt and self-limitation just as it exercises men’s unsupported overconfidence.”
About three years ago I experienced something online that seared my subjectivity to the extent that it still regularly announces itself when I sit down to write something. It generated an insecurity powerful enough that I have blocked myself from websites and muted hashtags in order to proceed with some clarity and perspective on the thinking I want to do about urban change, the role of creativity, ‘do-it-yourself’ renewal efforts, abjected urban experience such as homelessness and begging, and gentrification.
I thought I could ignore this moment online, this blip on the spirals of my thinking and the mostly wonderfully frutiful conversations they have led to. I told myself I was better than this, that I ought not to have been so provocative and was probably just reaping what I had sowed; and that, anyway, I am a “reliable witness to my own life”, in Solnit’s words. However, clearly none of this is fully realised: the expository, mendacious take-down of myself, my work and my ideas has taken its toll. As Solnit’s piece reminded me, to be a woman with something to say means you start from a position of underconfidence – which can be dragged to the depths of self-silencing in the blink of a godseye.
I´ve been following your blogs ever since I came across something you wrote about homelessness. I greatly enjoy the sharp critical insights in them, your ability to surprise and combine unexpected things together. Every blog seems to pose an intellectual challenge whether I agree or disagree with your views (to say nothing about some excellent literary hints).
As a young student while preparing a thesis I once wrote a letter to Doris Lessing (it was pre-email-time) asking her about her literary work etc. I also posed a rather naive question: Do you consider yourself a feminist? She kindly replied by sending her essay book A small personal voice and answered to my question by saying: “Life isn´t so neatly compartmentalized”. That sentence has followed me ever since.
Juha from Finland
Juha, thankyou SO much for your comment, and your story, and for reading this far! I’m so pleased to hear that you’ve found my posts enjoyable and challenging, that’s a great compliment (and always a relief to hear).
I hope you’ll keep reading … and now I have a literary recommendation from you!
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