I’ve wanted to be a writer since…before I can remember, but I’d never had the opportunity to take a creative writing class at my school. Once I got to high school, I was beyond excited when I saw there was a creative writing elective offered, so in ninth grade, I selected it as my first choice for my schedule. I didn’t get in. Second semester I did the same thing. Didn’t get in. Four years later, and it’s second semester senior year. I put it down as my first choice for the eighth time. I finally get in. Between the time of not getting into that class in ninth grade and finally getting in as a senior, I wrote. A lot. Novels, short stories, everything. I’m not saying I’m an expert writer, or that I’m any better than the rest of that class, but I can tell you for a fact I did not deserve the grade I got. I’d heard before that this teacher was sexist, that he only gave out As to the boys, but I’d wanted to take the class for so long and so badly that I didn’t care. After asking around, and I found out that the boys did indeed get significantly higher grades than the girls this quarter, even the ones that clearly only did the assignments the period before class. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t even read my work. There’s barely ever any comments on it, no constructive criticism, just the same consecutive grade, over and over and over again. He is the first person I’ve ever shown my writing to, and I know I’m better than that grade, but it’s really shaken my confidence, and now I’m even more scared to share my work in public.

I’m sorry, I know this is LONG and that I’m ranting, but I just got my report card like three minutes ago so I’m still fuming. In eighteen years, this was my first encounter with sexism from a teacher, and guess and what I’m trying to say is: Why does it happen and what the hell do I do about it?

— skhogwarts





Dear Skhogwarts,

We will start in the specific world of your classroom, and then we are going to go WIDE.

I can’t say definitively what is happening in your classroom. I don’t know what grade you deserve. Grading creative writing is hard, and I have never seen your work. I don’t know what your teacher is writing on the other papers. I am, however, exceedingly curious. You are saying some things that incline me to think you are on to something.

I can’t tell you what is BEST to do, either. But, if you felt secure enough doing this and are close enough to graduation—COULD it be proposed that you all hand in work without names attached, in the same font and formatting, and have the pieces graded blindly? Do you feel comfortable bringing this up in class or with administration? It’s entirely a question of your comfort, and I do not know how it will pan out. But if a group of you did this, maybe it could kick off a meaningful discussion?

Why does it happen? Eons of men being in positions of power and a deeply established tradition of male literary voices (or just voices, or just men) being seen as more valuable. While some may tell you that sort of thing is over, it is not in any way over. It tends to be slightly more sublimated now. It’s the way books are talked about, grouped, sold. The way prizes are given. The way reading lists are structured. The way certain books are said to be for boys or for girls. The way things just happen to work out that results in work by men having a bit of magical good luck and literary shine in ways that women’s work does not. It’s calling the work of women “commercial” and “light” over and over. And sometimes it’s not sublimated at all. Sometimes people just say it. Sometimes they boys simply get the better grades for no reason that anyone can name.

What do you do about it? You call it when you see it. You work hard. You stick to your guns. You read other women. You make some people mad by talking about it. You change things.

But since you are leaving, let’s talk about the rest of life.

Some bad news: sexist writing teachers are a dime a dozen. (The world of creepy writing teachers, a subcategory of the previous, is practically an entire literary genre at this point.) If you want to write and you decide to study writing in school, you’re probably going to encounter one or two. And then if you do write for a living, you will suddenly be introduced to a human zoo of sexist people who want to tell you what you should or should not write or what you are worth or what category you belong in and ask about what are you wearing and how much you weigh. Yes, you will encounter this. We are working on the problem, but I am trying to warn you in advance.

Some good news: sometimes, it takes running into one of these a**holes to really get your engines going. Writing is hard. It’s hard to finish. It’s hard to believe in yourself. It’s hard to get published. It’s hard not to give up. Sometimes you need a fire under you so you can say, “You know what? I’m going to do this and then I am going to come back and DANCE ON YOUR HEAD.” And then you DO it and then you (often) (sometimes) stop caring about dancing on someone’s head, because the thing is done and you are in a different place and you see things from a different perspective.

I think this is truly best demonstrated in the song “Nothing” from a Chorus Line which I played about six times daily during a period in graduate school where I had run into circumstances that were not exactly similar, but where things were stacked against me getting anywhere within that structure. Play the whole thing and listen to the whole story because it is INSPIRING and TRUE.

The truth is this: no matter HOW good you are, SOMEONE is going to tell you are not. Maybe lots of people. You have to figure out who to listen to, which comments are useful and which are not. Sometimes these comments will be valid, and you have to figure out what to do next. You have to work. Ultimately, you have to steel yourself for the whole trip, and the whole trip is bumpy and weird and takes all kinds of improbable turns. Many times you will think you will NEVER get there, and then you will realize that THERE is a big place and you might already have driven into the outer borders.

You have to know for yourself you can do it. It’s a big deal. There is no shortcut.

But every writer you see anywhere, on any shelf, on any screen? They made that trip. Whatever you think of them—they made the trip. People make the trip all the time. I made it and I made it because I decided I was going to make it or die behind the wheel trying to get there. I wrote all the time.

Your teacher? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I know more about you, and it sounds like you plugged away over and over and wrote the whole time, so I have more confidence in you because you are saying all the key things. You kept going and trying and working. And THAT is how it happens. In the end, what your high school writing teacher thinks of you isn’t ultimately going to make ANY DIFFERENCE AT ALL in terms of continuing your writing or getting into other classes or getting published. Creative writing classes are notoriously variable and you don’t even have to take them in order to write.

This doesn’t mean it’s fine that there are sexist writing teachers. It just means a sexist writing teacher will not take you down. Your teacher, whatever the case is, could be the fuel that sends you up. Take what happens and make it your own. He gave you poop? Guess what—POOP IS EXPLOSIVE.

And there are LOADS of great writing teachers out there. Keep that in mind as well. LOADS. I had many.

I still want to see a blind grading of those papers, though. Let me know if you make that happen. Auntie MJ will be very interested and impressed INDEED. Or not. You could just walk away and find that better class, just like Morales. There is nothing wrong with that AT ALL.

Keep your head up. You’ll get there.

Love,

Auntie MJ