Thursday, May 9, 2013

On Being Pretentious and Privileged

I hate linking to two xojane pieces in a row. Really, I do. Although it may not always seem like it, I like xojane. And while it gets its fair share of criticism -- most of it warranted -- most of the writing is good and informative in an ostensibly feminist way.

This post  about pretentious high school writing and how it often leads to greater things gets it almost right, but I still find myself getting frustrated, and I think I know why. Everything is "correct." The privilege is checked, and she acknowledges that her situation is in no way universal, but I wish someone who didn't grow up with class privilege, or has it now, would have written that post. I don't even think I'm that person.

I think I'm a pretty good example of how privilege doesn't always work laterally. I grew up in a working-class neighborhood, yet I went to private school. Neither of my parents were readers, but I lived across the street from one of the bigger branch libraries. Writing and reading weren't encouraged, but they weren't necessarily discouraged either. In anything, reading and writing were tolerated like curious hobbies: something silly and superfluous I'd probably grow out of eventually. It baffles me that I've been paid for it. And I still question my own writing, every damn time I put open to paper.

This is what I like to see: writing about writing from the perspective of someone not encouraged to write, or someone "not supposed to write," but still compelled to do it. As for pretentious high school prose, I think even then I was aware of overcorrection and sounding too self-conscious. (Or maybe I read too much Carver -- I don't know.) I liked writing essays, but knew that any mistakes would be attributed to my class or lack of education, so I never took those risks that led to pretentious, bloated prose.

1 comment:

  1. I love this idea. Thanks for putting it out there....

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