Have you ever had a moment when you read a quote and it just sums up everything you’re feeling?
Yeah, that.
Thank you, Gerda.
This week, (well, it was more like half 10 last night), I realised that there is a difference between a woman and a person, historically speaking.
Say what?
Well, earlier in the week, I found out that Hildegard of Bingen is the first known composer in history. Yesterday, I found out that Margery Kempe wrote the oldest English language autobiography.
A few months ago, I learned that Enheduanna, high priestess of modern-day Iraq, is the first named author in history. And that the Japanese woman, Murasaki Shikibu, wrote the first novel.
Notice how these titles are not prefaced with the word “female.”
These are ‘people,’ not ‘women.’
A “surviving copy” or “first known” doesn’t necessarily mean that they did it before men. However, it does mean that they’ve been dealt the legacy card. In history, legacy is ninth-tenths the law.
This might not seem like an earth-shattering revelation …
Of course women are people!
We don’t even have to say it because it’s so obvious!
And herein lies the problem:
We don’t say it.
We have never said it.
We – by which I mean ALL genders - have been conditioned to not even think about it.
To test this idea out, I googled “famous firsts in history.”
And guess what I found ….
Two sets of “firsts.”
There are “firsts,” which means “men.” And there are “female/women firsts.”
In other words, there are ‘actual firsts’ and there are ‘compensatory’ firsts.
Now, in fairness, there are plenty of women out there, doing important research that proves beyond any reasonable doubt that maleness is the default. (Caroline Criado-Perez is a great example). So, again, this might not seem like a ground-breaking revelation.
For me, though, it really is.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been booked to do quite a few talks and teaching events. Which is GREAT. Honestly.
But I find myself constantly doubting my knowledge.
Let me make something clear: this isn’t a case of imposter syndrome. This isn’t me thinking that I’m not good enough/worthy enough to speak to people or to teach people. No inner critic is jumping out of a box. (Well, actually, I call my inner critic “Jane Eyre” and she lives in an attic 😂 but you get what I mean).
Honestly, though, it’s not that.
If anything, Jane’s a bit bored …
Anyway …
I’m lucky to have a job where I can learn every day. If I want to go down a rabbit hole, nobody is pulling me back. The problem, though, is that the things I learn these days don’t fit the narrative that A) I was taught and B) I was taught to teach others. And no matter how hard I try to make them fit, they just don’t fit.
So I’m finally realising that if I’m a specialist in anything, it’s in compensatory history. Challenging the mainstream is what I thought I was doing but now I see that’s not good enough, dear reader. Challenging only takes you so far. Compensatory history can get in the sea.
Think about it: you can challenge contemporary sexism or racism but if you want radical change … if you want those systems to disappear … you’ll have to build a completely new structure. You can’t just work to make things a bit less sexist or racist because you’ll still have injustice.
And so I feel a bit like I’m starting over, which is an odd experience. I’ve moved from “Yes, I know exactly what I’m talking about” to “Can I trust what I know?” And to the even scarier question of: “Do I really know anything?”
Although this is an uncomfortable place, it also feels like the right place.
Until next time x
P.S. The beautiful doodle of Gerda at the beginning of this post is courtesy of the very talented, Amy Nolan.
Love it! You are exactly on to the right thing. My goodness do you ever write well too!😁