On The Antioch Review's choice to publish and promote transphobic content

Content warning: transphobia, sexism, cultural supremacy (esp in the first link, click with caution!)

In its Winter 2016 Issue the literary magazine The Antioch Review published Daniel Harris’s essay titled “The Sacred Androgen: The TransgenderDebate.” At the beginning of his essay Harris brings up the topic of the transgender experience as one might broach a topic at a fancy dinner party. He nervously presents a few nonspecific facts (eg: high rates of depression and suicide among transfolks).

He presents these facts like he’s testing the room. He wants you, the reader, to know he’s hip, that he reads the news. Citing the facts seems neutral enough. But, as many oppressed individuals know, the facts are never neutral. By pre-empting his views with a three sentence patina of cold hard facts about the suffering of others, he wants to show you he’s objective, that he has no skin in the game, that his perspective is fully formed and informed.

I don’t have that luxury. As a transgender author and active member of the literary community, my skin is always being dragged into the game Harris wants to deny he is even playing. My conception of transgender experiences is constantly being informed and re-formed. And I can’t write about the experience of transgender people objectively. The facts hurt me too much. I can’t write this from the perspective of society, only from myself.

I'm a transgender poet, nonfiction writer, and graduate student in Antioch University's MFA program. I also work as a peer writing consultant at Antioch University Seattle. Although Antioch College (the source of the publication in question) and Antioch University are no longer officially affiliated, they share names and a lot of history. Even though these institutions are not longer connected, I am ashamed that the university I currently attend shares so much with an institution that now supports such bigoted views. Harris's words threaten my very existence, as well as to the work I do in validating and archiving transgender voices and narratives in the literary landscape.

The essay itself made me physically sick to read. It was sometimes so blatantly wrong the only thing I could do was laugh. (Did Harris do ANY research?) The way he uses people's bodies and the choices they make about those bodies to prop up his bigotry was absolutely horrifying. The way he shames women and trans people for making surgical changes to their bodies combines both sexism and transphobia into one revolting sour note of supremacy.

Yet beyond the reductive misinformation Harris espouses, the patronizing tone of the essay itself was deeply upsetting to me. As someone who writes nonfiction, I simply can't understand writing something like that and not realizing it's so condescending that it borders on parody. It's not just bad politics. It's bad essay writing.

I'm offended by his words and also by the way he uses words. 

No, not offended. I am actively harmed by the form and content of those words.

I am, however, more hurt by The Antioch Review. I know views like Harris’s and the people who hold them exist. I am reminded all the time. I am disappointed and appalled that The Antioch Review gave Harris a platform. Not just because his polemic is obviously bigoted, but because I can think of at least 10 transgender writers (myself included) who could've offered a more accurate, more engaging, and much better written. Yet it's vocally transgender transgender writers whose work is labeled "divisive." It transgender writers whose work about their lives and culture, that get rejected or excluded from so many literary spaces. Or those pieces don't get sent out from fear. Or because cisgender publishers neglected to solicit the opinions of trans people.

The Antioch Review’s promotion of the words in Harris’s essay, more so than any of those words, is an enforcement and harsh reminder of the fact that literary culture isn’t safe for transgender people, that is doesn’t want our voices and our stories. It signals a tacit agreement with Harris, that when transgender people ask to be recognized accurately, that we are asking too much:

TGs [transgender individuals] have ambushed the debate and entangled us in a snare of such trivialities as the proper pronouns with which to address them, protocol as Byzantine and patronizing as the etiquette for addressing royalty

The words of the essay itself also generalize about transgender experiences in a way that erases my identity as a trans masculine genderqueer person. It ignores anybody with a non-binary gender and assumes all trans people want to undergo or have gone through gender affirmation surgery. It’s from this reductive assumption, that Harris claims trans people are enforcing gender norms and that we are "running away" from homophobia, that we, en masse, are trying to assimilate into heterosexual culture. 

(this was one of the parts where I had to laugh)

Harris’s framing of himself and his cisgender gay peers as valiantly resistant to assimilation, and also as victims of purported bullying at the hands of transgender activists who just want to be recognized as who they are, is downright disgraceful. It's disgusting, self aggrandizing, and disrespectful. It’s a naked moment of pushing someone else down to raise yourself up. Harris's need to see himself as more right and more persecuted (aka noble) than trans people has cost me my sense of security in the literary community and has blocked his worldview off from the rich wisdoms, truths, and stories of transgender people.

I fear for myself and my peers because of what he's said. And I pity him. Because, through his own denial, he'll never know or want to understand the beautiful and complex cultures, stories, and possibilities that trans people create. And we create them daily dammit!

Shame on The Antioch Review. Pity for Daniel Harris.

Please sign this petition denouncing the Antioch Review’s promotion of transphobic content.

Book Review: Ordinary Genius

Note: I've got less than a week before my next work packet is due for grad school. So um... today's essay/post is actually my annotation of Kim Addonizio's fantastic Ordinary Genius.

Seriously, if you are at all interested in poetry (writing or reading it) buy this book. It is extraordinary. 

It was difficult to read quickly because the rich slew of wisdoms and practical exercises/suggestions constantly tug the reader toward their own notebooks and ideas. Ordinary Genius leaves its reader hungry for the possibility of their own literary actions (whether its reading or writing). It reads like an intense flirtation, extremely playful and forthright. All of the challenges/exercises arouse rather than intimidate the reader. Which is admirable considering the wealth of materials Addonizio refers to/recommends as well as those she quotes or includes wholesale. She never lets the book get dull and it is clear that Addonizio has love, joy, passion, frustration, and fascination with the craft of poetry.

Ordinary Genius was viciously difficult for me personally to get through quickly because I wanted to stop and respond to every prompt. Consequently I wrote much more poetry this month thanks to these prompts, my notebooks is now littered with the heading “prompt from O.G.: ”.

Not only does it include multiple specific examples of craft elements Addonizio also includes non-examples and portraits of what not to do (usually written by herself). Because of its well controlled and wide ranging references and its approachability Ordinary Genius would be an absolutely fantastic textbook for a beginning or intermediate poetry course. Its sections are equally well suited to being used in a modular take-what-you-like fashion or as a workbook that students could move through slowly and consecutively.

For use in a modular fashion I highly recommend the following sections for beginners: 1. leaping into the dark; 10. read this; 11. identity 1: boys, girls & bodies; 12. three meditations; and 15. me myself & I. And I recommend the following for more advanced/intermediate poets: 22. metaphor 1: the shimmer; 23. white heat, necessary coldness; 24. bag of tricks; 28. music & meter; 29. write a sonnet; and 34. do-overs & revisions.

As a poet who often has the habit of overwriting I was the most intrigued and challenged by section 23. white heat, necessary coldness in which Addonizio quotes Anton Chekhov:

*see below for my feels about the "he or she"

This is a balance I am now on the lookout for in my revisions. Addonizio's identifies of this poetic principle in simple terms. her doing so clearly demonstrates an ability to create space in her work for readers with different levels of skill and experience with poetry. This “coldness” is a sophisticated balance to strike. One beginning (and even seasoned) poets may not succeed in achieving, but one they will absolutely benefit from being able to recognize.

Addonizio has an absolute knack for selecting appropriate examples of craft principles she's trying to illustrate. The range of examples chosen restricts itself to no time period or specific poetic style. But it's not just the exercises and suggested readings that make Ordinary Genius such a gem.

The way she groups and explores concepts of creativity, practice, poetry, and human experience is succinct and inviting. In the section read this she frees writers and potential poetry enthusiasts from what I see as the biggest barrier to entering the world of poetry: 

This comes after her personal anecdote about being touched by a Keats poem but not understanding many of its complexities for years. On the first page of the first section of Ordinary Genius she states that

There is a lot of uncertainty in any creative act. Some people love this—it's what draws them, over and over, to make something out of nothing. Other people can't seem to get past it; they don't want to confront the unknown. It's useful to recognize that uncertainty is going to be there, however you feel about it.

My only critique of this book has to do with its somewhat simplistic presentation of gender roles and gender rhetoric. Despite how transgressive and important I find the content and exercises in the section on gender identity I was bothered by assumptions that go along with her use of “the opposite sex” and her use of *“he or she” where “they” would be more inclusive. Because of the section's either/or approach to gender I found myself ill equipped to participate in many of the exercises. However, I definitely think they are very valuable prompts!

Ordinary Genius is so much more than just a workbook about “how to write good poems”. It breaks open the how's and why's of what makes poetry so powerful culturally and personally and then tied that back to actionable craft elements. All of the advice and exercises come from a deep and true observations about how poetry functions as a force of human nature. I highly recommend it to any poet/writer looking for a good read and a little something to kick their practice in the ass. I especially recommend it to writers new to poetry or just feeling insecure about their place in its admittedly strange and intimidating depths. Ordinary Genius is your perfect guide.