An open letter?

Literary discourse is messy

A response to a @titstalking post on Telegram about the open call to the tw zine 1

I’ve been sitting on this text and these thoughts for a month.

In part because I was tired. In part because I angrily spoke about this issue to two of my friends already and kind of lost the steam.

But in the largest part — because I’m conflicted about my positionality and whether it’s a good idea to challenge a person whom I would call a comrade in the local creative movement, a person of (likely) a lot of similar values, interests, writing courses taken, and a person whose work I admire. And a friend of a friend.

So here’s where I’m writing this from and why I do it, even though it’s challenging:

I am a writer. As such, I’ve studied writing, and I’ve been in writing spaces. When it comes to women*’s writing, especially on topics as charged as sexuality, I most appreciate the possibility itself. To write and to encounter the writing of others, to witness it.

I am a reader. I’ve read great fiction and autofiction masterpieces and amateur writing.

I am a beginner creative activist. I’ve hosted a couple of writing-focused events, am a part of a local writing circle. My friends’ and mine zine neighbored with the TW zine at a recent zine fair.

I am one of four people who submitted their works to the open call that the poster mentions.

I am also in no way an authority on any subject. I recognize my bias in this situation and my desire to come off as someone more experienced than I am. However, I have an opposing opinion and believe that the only way our literary space can develop is by collaboration and, when needed, productive discussion.

When I read Aisulu Toishibek’s post about some of the open call results, I got extremely angry. If I were to write something unsubstantiated and emotional, that would’ve been: “This is why we will never have a thriving and active indie literary scene.” But I want to approach it differently and go point by point:

• I agree that sexuality is an important topic, but I question what the “collective knowledge” here means. To me, as a person living in a space where this topic is swept under the rug, gender violence is on the rise, and activist organizations are either few and far between or actively targeted, “collective knowledge” sounds more like propaganda. Can we develop any collective knowledge about the topic in these constricted circumstances?

• I don’t believe that “production of meaning” and “interpretation” should be or can be universal. The value of personal accounts is something that, if I’m not totally off base here, has been constantly emphasized by feminists.

• I also find it strange to call upon an implied authority (the position of which the author of the post temporarily takes) that can sort this through. This doesn’t overtly say “authoritarian,” but it does come very close.

• The list part is the worst part of the text. It implies that the people whose texts the author received, those who trusted her to send their works on a sensitive topic, are not readers, are bad at writing, are not knowledgeable, lack editing skills. I will write more about this below.

• I contest that a universal or developed writing school is such a benefit. It helps, of course, but it’s also not a one-day miracle; it grows through generations. And it also forms through independent publications and initiatives. For all its worth, it can be forming right now. I also find the mere possibility of institutional support for topics such as “women*’s sexuality” naive. The government isn’t interested in exploring this topic. Maybe it will, but safe to say we might be dead by then.

• To call out (and that’s the only way I can name it) 4 people who submitted their works and were brave enough to do it and to make a generalized point based on this data doesn’t seem rational or valuable to me. I have a good community, access to resources, including education, so this doesn’t affect me personally. But what about the other 3 people? What were their feelings when they read this? When they were almost plainly called ignorant, not readers, and, well, almost dumb (as in, not possessing a certain type of highly-valued collective knowledge)?

What I want to argue with in this post is more than just the passive-aggressive language. While the positionality here is clearly of a judge and not an equal, I don’t find that the work to earn this position had been done. For this open call, the author wanted to post suggested reading / writing examples, but that wasn’t done. Despite the lack of editors she pointed out, she didn’t suggest to act as one herself. To me, this isn’t in the spirit of collaboration and indie publishing.

It is also not joyful.

There’s no enjoyment and no openness expressed. There’s no recognition of what emotional impact (if any) these texts left. Which topics they covered. Why do a project like this if you don’t really enjoy it? Why start an indie publication and expect for institutionalized knowledge and universal experience? Indie is about something raw and unheard of, unpolished, different, out of the margins. And this, to me, is its greatest power.

I realize how intense creating a zine by yourself is. I’d like to do something like this myself, when I have proper resources. But I also think that readers and writers can ask more of each other. The original post has a right to exist, and mine does, as well. Isn’t this the way we move literature beyond its current bounds?

---

I’m writing it here because I like writing in English and that’s what comes easily to me. I’m contemplating posting this on Threads as I don’t really have a Telegram channel.

Tell me what you think if you cared to read this to the end. Is it petty of me? Should we blindly support each other’s rights as well as wrongs?

In any case, I finally wrote this text, so I hope you get to cross something important to you off your list soon and have lots of rest on the weekend. And maybe write something? Take care!