The big and bad LIRT 250, Approaches to Literature—I’ve heard horror stories from many of my peers. The general consensus was that this class was like the music montage training scenes in movies where the work either makes you, or breaks you.
I was eager for the experience.
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The core of this class is learning why you think the way you think. Meta, no? At times head throbbing, no? Yes. And Yes.
I generally breezed through the course. A few mental and procrastinative bumps got in the way, but my capacity to understand the material remained. I read it, the teacher spoke it, I got it.
Out of all the topics—Reader Response theory, Mimesis, New Critisism, Strucutalism, Marxism, etc..—.the most literal concept (a previous assumption), feminism, struck a chord in me I did not like.
No, I did not like it at all.
I’ll further explain.
From past experience, what I had scrounged up as my understanding of feminism was that it was advocating and explaining the notion of woman’s equality to men, debunking any preconceived notions about a woman’s place in society.
“Woman can do ______.”
“Let’s watch this commercial and decode the anti-feminist undertones.”
Feminism. Got it.
But this class took my understanding further. And at first, it made me angry.
Reading a passage, “Bell Hooks,” about feminism, I crossed the path of an idea that to me, was so radical, something so blatantly trashing my own ideas of feminism, that I rejected it by throwing a fit.
To sum it up, I had read something that’s message was along the lines of “feminism isn’t about women being able to be police officers, lawyers, etc.” After reading this, I actually got mad. Immediately following, I wrote in my journal:
“What do you mean feminism isn’t about these things???? Then what is the point??? What should women do?”……Ranting and more ranting followed by an existential crises and a bitter, angsty creature that was me, sitting in the library scribbling away.
I almost stopped reading. I almost closed my book and went back to my dorm in a huff. But something compelled me forward. I don’t know what, but the result is this article before you today.
So, fast forward. I kept reading and let it all sink in. Not long after, my frustrations began to fade and I had that “Ohhhhhhhh!” moment. Long story short, I wasn’t understanding that the reading was trying to address how feminism, for the longest time, hasn’t been about all women, it’s been about middle-upper class white women. The maids weren’t the ones publishing feminist prose. Black women weren’t rallying in the streets. Feminism, for quite some time, came from educated white women who were house wives, having the time to study, write, and the financial foundation/connections to publish. It made sense—once I stopped refusing to understand.
This is key. This was where I was like…WOW.
I’m a laid back no nonsense kind of person. I definitely don’t identify as a feminist, in fact I don’t really identify as anything besides human, lazy, and a lover of memes. And the last time I was offended was probably when I was going through puberty. So then what was THAT episode about?
I had an understanding of feminism that, along with it, came a subconscious devoutness to its absolute certainty. To refer back to Marxism, I was under false consciousness. To read something that completely flipped my understanding (one that was rooted into my veins throughout my education) on its head made me want to, in turn, flip a table. I felt my brain shut off. I felt myself wanting to write bratty comments in my journal. I felt myself wanting to lash out at whoever wrote this bull shit and ask, what the hell?
After I calmed down, I thought about the recent election, and the hatred.
I also thought about how I thought I was better than those who are passionate about beliefs and lash out under false consciousness.
And in regards to most topics, I was.
But I discovered I’m not perfect.
And I’m still susceptible to what I think is sane thought, but is in actuality, skewed.
That’s the message I want to leave my readers. That no matter how rational you think you are, how educated, you have to keep yourself in check at all times. Remind yourself that your reality is not the same as others. Remind yourself that these various realities are constructed by others in society and just in existence. Keep in touch with yourself. If I had done so, I would have saved myself an embarrassing journal entry that my professor will probably grade with a knowing chuckle.
But a journal entry is harmless.
A human life is something else.
