As we all know, the Left and particularly its kudzu-like strangling of all aspects of academia is very fond of its “isms.” Feminism, racism, whateverism–all purportedly designed to “call out” the oppressive white male and to tear down sexist walls, crash through glass ceilings, and break out of the cycle of oppression.
So imagine my surprise when, as a graduate student, I learned that I should not be teaching a particular female author in a Modern Literature class. She’s an excellent, if under-read and under-appreciated, modern writer, but the chair of my department explained to me that her work should be taught in “women’s literature” classes. It turns out that faux feminists were happy to perpetuate the idea that the term “modern writer” actually means “white male modern writer” and that because of this, a woman cannot be a “modern writer” at all. She’s a writer of “women’s literature.”
“Women’s literature” classes are chock-full of readings by people whose only qualification as a “writer” is a vagina. The “literature” is often … well, let’s just say, not good. This isn’t always the case, but often enough that you have to wonder why it’s being taught at all (other than to fill in the entire semester’s reading list by dredging up every female writer who ever put pen to paper). This gyno-centric reading list and my being told not to teach a truly outstanding female author in a “traditional” lit class initially unnerved and confused me. But the real reason is actually quite clear, if rather sinister: if we started selecting excellent female writers and started teaching them as if they were “real” literature, we’d end the hate-fueled gravy train.
Who or what would the leftist intellectual elite write their endless, repetitive, belly-button-gazing critical essays about? What would happen to their careers if they had no one to demonize and no one to treat as a perpetual victim?