Tag: Direct response to a published work

9 – OF QUEERS, JEERS, AND FEARS: Writing Centers as (Im)Possible Safe Spaces: A Reflection Piece

After reading this chapter of Out in the Center, which detailed a Writing Center employees’ realization of his vulnerability and potential marginalization because of his queer identity, we had several personal reflections in response on our own experiences as WAs.  We hope that by collectively reflecting on our experiences here, we can provide others an insight into how we as queer WAs grapple with our identities in Swarthmore’s Writing Center.

1

As a queer WA, I often evaluate whether I should, like the author, “hang my queer identity at the door” when I enter a conference. I will adjust or hide when I perceive a possible higher-risk situation. For example, once I met with a student who wrote about the morally corrupting influence of “effeminate” men on the culture, so I put on the best masculine straight persona I could muster to remove myself from scrutiny.

Nevertheless, not all papers will cue us ahead of time to be careful, and aspects of identity are bound to come out in such intimate spaces as one-on-one conferences, intentionally or not. That’s why it’s important that we as LGBTQ+ WAs don’t bear the responsibility for making our own comfort all by ourselves – it takes the writing center community as a whole.

Separately, a note to self: don’t gaslight myself. Environments are formed by more than me and my perceptions, so if I perceive something that seems off, I may not be crazy. My expectations are formed by the real environments and experiences I have had, so I shouldn’t constantly second guess myself – sometimes allow for the possibility that my discomfort isn’t just me being hyper-aware.

2

Even if we work to make the Writing Center an accepting and affirming space, (e.g. putting supports in place to debrief conferences with writers), as a WA holding a marginalized identity there is still potential for a harmful encounter with a writer.  This possibility and vulnerability both makes the work that we do within the Writing Center important and also connects the Writing Center to the rest of the world.  It reminds me why it is important to participate in efforts outside of the Writing Center as well as within it.

3

Identity is not a factor to be ignored in the Writing Center. Although it may sometimes feel seamless to sweep away those parts of yourself that might render you marginalized, it might be difficult to do so responsibly in a space that relies on trust, intimacy, and reciprocity. To establish those key tenets of a conference, we need to be honest with ourselves about how our identities, and those of writers in the center, shape our interactions. We cannot incubate conferences in the center as though they are entirely separate from identity, as the latter significantly influences how we communicate with others. 

2

In the Writing Center and in life more broadly, it is very possible to be privileged and marginalized at the same time because of different identities that I hold.  Navigating how my work in the Writing Center will encounter these different dynamics-  both holding myself accountable and acknowledging potential marginalization and vulnerability-  is challenging but necessary work.  For me it has definitely been a good start, though, to have conversations among WAs that share marginalized identities.  

1

Even if conferencing can be unpredictable, I feel like I can trust the Writing Center with this aspect of my identity more than most other places. There are some “other places” in my life that compel my anonymity here, but at the Writing Center I become bolder to be my unrestrained self, regardless of the risks.

“On Guard”: Religious Identity in the Writing Center

written by Emma Klein and Tarang Saluja

In the chapter “On Guard!” from Out in the Center: Public Controversies and Private Struggles, Sami Korgan describes how religion is an aspect of identity which is less visible and also less discussed. In particular, Korgan writes about how they find themselves to be more guarded, cautious, and reticent about religion in comparison to other parts of their identity. This state of being “on guard,” as Korgan describes it, about their faith is in sharp contrast to how Korgan never felt like they had to hide their religion when it was a large part of their social relations and scaffolded many aspects of daily life. However, in the writing center, especially as a Christian at a Catholic university, Korgan describes uncomfortable experiences of students asking about faith. As Korgan describes how they felt alone in their faith, they meditate upon how some identities are welcomed in the writing center while others are negatively judged. 

Korgan’s description of how faith-based identity is regarded in a different way than something like gender identity raises questions for how we think of identities which are both less visible and also less present in discourse. While the direction of what we focus on is never fixed, other identities which may fall into a similar category are disabilities, political affiliation (as Korgan mentioned), and class. One of the fears which Korgan articulates is the concern that “we are practicing what Harry Denny (2010) in his Facing the Center calls a “clubhouse mentality,” in which only certain types of thinkers fit in, leading to exclusionary practices among tutors (148),” and Korgan worries this is associated with the “hyperliberal environment outdo[ing] itself without realizing who it’s hurting (150).”

Korgan’s analysis should encourage us as WAs to ask ourselves who we exclude when we take the predominant ways of thinking at Swarthmore for granted. And yet, as much as our program may aspire to be welcoming of all individuals, with different identities and worldviews, this becomes more challenging in practice when WAs must interact with writers or other WAs who hold beliefs that may be perceived as harmful to them. For example, Korgan describes an outspoken conservative Christian at their school who the writing consultants did not want to join their program because they were uncomfortable with his beliefs. Navigating this tension is difficult and prompts greater reflection regarding how we understand our responsibilities as WAs individually and our program more broadly. One place to start is with personal boundaries as WAs in our conferences and with each other, another dimension of Korgan’s chapter.

Korgan discusses setting boundaries about their religion by not sharing how it is important to their identity, even lying to a writer by saying they did not know much about the Bible (149). This decision was influenced by worries about how their faith would be perceived, and Korgan implies that they would rather not repress this part of their identity. However, negotiating and setting boundaries in conferences and other WA-related-interactions can also be a form of care, and each of us can make the personal decision about what we have the capacity to address in our interactions with writers and other WAs. As a program, we can continue to do more collective thinking about our purpose and how to serve all members of the Swarthmore community because we work with both writing and writers, and the two cannot easily be separated.