Tayari's Blog: Martha's Director's Cut

Comment #1, by Sarah Schulman

Martha's article raises two realms of thought for me:

1. The responsibilities of dominant culture writers (white, heterosexual, upper-class) and

2. The responsibilities of writers who do not have full citizenship in this country.

1. White writers (like heterosexual writers, prep school educated trust fund writers etc) have a profound essentual human obligation to advocate for, mentor, and generally share the wealth with writers from marginalized experiences.

Any of us who are teaching writing in undergrad or MFA programs have a responsibility to be versed in world literature. A student of color or gay student should not have to educate their professor or their peers. When that is the case, the student is having an inferior learning experience. Teachers have to be able to hand a black student (and white students)books by black writers who that student has never heard of- so that they have the same opportunity to learn, beyond being assigned to re-read Sula. If you can't turn your students on to great work by people like Caryl Phillips. Rabih Allemmeddine, Carolivia Herron, Dale Peck , etc- then you're not doing your job as a teacher.

White organizations need to be actively integrated by the white people who benefit from them. For example, we all know that the most elite art colonies are woefully under-integrated. White writers can reccommend and send applications to promising writers of color who may not know about resources like MacDowell, Yaddo, Breadloaf. We can send appplications for grants like NYFAS, etc. Let people in on where the support is hiding.

For three years I organized the fiction panels at the New York Foundation for the Arts. What I learned is that white, straight panelists are not ecumenical. If you have an all people-of-color panel, white people still get grants. An all-gay panel still grants to straight writers. But an all white, straight panel basically chooses a white, straight list of recipients. Anyone in a position to constitute boards or panels needs to take that into account to get a fairer outcome.

If you know emerging writers who need help preparing their manuscripts, HELP THEM. Right now the mentality amongst most dominant culture writers is to only help people who can help you back. So the power gets shared only among the privileged. The key is to step out of that mentality and advocate for writers who can't help you back. Because it's about a larger goal- creating an American literature that truly reflects the depth and complexity of experience in this country. This means giving blurbs to people, proposing reviews, making phone calls.

The fact is that to be denied representation in a media culture is to be profoundly disadvantaged. And even though people who are marginalized in publishing are actually the center of this country, the small demographic who dominates has the APPARATUS to retain control. The more of us who try to subvert that apparatus, the healthier and more truthful our literature will be.

2. Writers from marginalized communities need to take more responsibility to build power networks within our communities and with othe r excluded voices.

It is very tempting to try to suck up to the power structure and jockey for the token sidekick position, but ultimately that does not actually work, and you undermine your relationships with others in the same boat.

Having integrity about your voice- writing openly lesbian or gay protagonists, taking on lived perspectives of race and class that may not be fasionable- these are our responsibilities as artists. It may feel risky on an individual basis- and in fact it is. But in the long term, truth telling and community building are the most effective transformational strategies.

-Sarah Schulman

Comment #2, by Bridgett Davis

When I quit my reporting job at the Philadelphia Inquirer back in the late 80's to "freelance and write fiction", my mother worried about my lack of health insurance and my colleagues in the newsroom started a rumor that I'd had a nervous breakdown. I got to New York with pen in hand, but I didn't know what I was doing. I subscribed to Writer's Digest, that's how clueless I was. Who could I turn to? The only other African-American person I knew who'd pursued fiction was a young woman named Toni Joseph who'd gone to Univ. of Iowa's Writer's Workshop. When I met her, she was at Columbia's Journalism School, getting a practical degree. She said she needed a safety net. Toni was an incredible creative writer, with a brilliant voice and distinctive style. At age 31, she died from congenital heart disease.

I often wonder about those precious years Toni spent as a newspaper reporter, years that could have been devoted to fiction -- to works that would have lived on after she was gone.

I couldn't stop thinking about her as I read both your NYT piece and this blog post. We have lost a generation of black lit writers' voices to the economic and racial realities of life in America. Look how we almost lost Ed Jones! The publishing industry is largely to blame for that, and of course no one will admit culpability. But we can look to our younger brothers and sisters, who have a clarity and singularity of purpose I envy. Tayari Jones is one such glowing example. I used to say the most radical thing a black filmmaker could do was make a second film; well, looks like the most radical thing a black lit writer can do is publish a fourth novel. So, let that be our goal -- to publish, however, where ever and for whatever, to just keep doing it.

Thank you Martha -- for giving voice to an unnamed, overlooked, yet oh-so- life-threatening phenomenon. Kudos.

Comment #3, by Martha Southgate

Sarah and Bridgett,

I don't have much to say except to thank you both for your thoughtful responses. I think that you have both touched on different aspects of what has to be done in order to begin to affect change. We have to name what we see, we have to keep doing our work and putting it out there and we have to help each other and those who don't have access and a public voice. I guess I'd add too that educating young people in any way we can is also key. It's a lotta work. But somebody's gotta do it.

Anyway, thanks again.

Comment #4, by Woody Lewis

Brava, everyone, for this wonderful dialogue! You can't imagine how timely this was. I read Martha's piece the Wednesday before it appeared because I subscribe to the advance online copy of the NYT Book Review. I had just returned from the MFA graduation festivities at Bennington. Having received my degree in January, I wanted to see friends and faculty once more. Martha, if you read this, know that I was thrilled to hear that you'll be teaching there next January. I was the first African American to finish the program since January 2005, when two sisters graduated: Remica Bingham, a talented poet, and Ada Udechukwu, whose short story was included in the Atlantic's fiction issue last year. There were two more graduates in June: Leigh Jackson and Jonathan Carr. That leaves just one, Ken Massey, who finishes next June.
We have to do better than that.

I've been writing my whole life, sometimes sporadically, but always with purpose. As a 16-year-old freshman at Columbia in 1965, my writing was recognized, but not encouraged. Despite the progressive nature of that university, the English department was a tad hoary and, needless to say, unacquainted with the likes of me. I chose rock music as a more accessible medium of expression, which I think many of today's would-be literary writers might do with hip-hop. I've never been sorry since I had a successful career before continuing on into banking and now technology( I have a lot to write about...:)
How I wish I'd been immersed all along, because you never get back those incredible years when you have all the time to do what you want.

Every student entering the Bennington program learns about the Vortex, that metaphorical crucible of randomness that guarantees a dynamic learning experience. Last year, we formed the Vortex of Color, and I will have the blog up shortly. The VoC includes African Americans, Asians, and people from India (I know it's part of Asia, but I always feel obliged to make the distinction.) Hopefully, we'll be visible to those other writers of color who feel isolated.

What warm vibes I get from this site. Sarah Schulman's piece should be required reading. I've almost finished reading the new Ralph Ellison biography by Arnold Rampersad. It's a chilling story of a brilliant writer who became so paralyzed with his self-image and tormented racial identity that he was never able to match his initial genius. That should be a reminder to us all that it's about mutual support and sharing.

So glad I found this link on Maud Newton.

Comment #5, by ExMathMajor

I too found this link through Maud Newton and I'm SO glad I got to read Martha Southgate's article. I had to log in to your site and comment on this. I just knew I wasn't the only one feeling this way.

The thing that finally got me into an MFA program was seeing 40 coming and feeling like a failure. To most of the people in my world at the time, I was anything but...because I was making a very good living in information technology and basically hitting most of the targets set up for my generation of AAs. What they didn't understand was that writing was far more than just a hobby for me (I got "bit" when I was 9), and that my fears about making it as a serious writer (and the writing I WASN'T doing as a result of those fears) played a huge part in my being generally unhappy and dissatisfied during a good chunk of my 20s and 30s.

I graduated in May at age 42: Amidst a healthy supply of BAs, BSs, MAs, MSs, and JDs, and a couple of PhDs and MDs, I'm the first member of my family to have an MFA. Yes, a lot of them think I'm crazy! (Especially since I'm now working a job that pays about a fifth of what I made before.) But in so many ways I feel I've given myself a second chance to get this -- my life, my happiness -- right. I now have this quote on my bulletin board: "To those who understand, no explanation is necessary; to those who don't, no explanation is enough."