Several years ago, I enrolled in a nineteenth century literature class in which we were assigned the standard readings, novels by Dickens, Eliot, Gissing, the Bronte sisters, Gaskell, Hardy, Wilde, and Thackeray, and then an anomaly: a hefty work of fiction entitled The Heavenly Twins and written by a relative unknown named Sarah Grand. I remember feeling somewhat annoyed with the instructor for asking us to read a non-canonized novel. What a waste of time! We were there to learn about and from the real literary giants, were we not? What could this Grand woman possibly have to teach us that we couldn’t learn so much better from her more highly respected peers? Well (surprise, surprise), her novel and her biography left a more lasting impression on me than anything else I studied in that class.
An acute observer of human behaviour, Grand depicts the hardships and challenges of three very different middle class Victorian women with unflinching honesty. Yet despite the riches her writing had to offer, Grand had to self-publish, and her book was met with rather harsh criticism. A good many critics derided her style of prose as exceedingly plain and consequently were quick (and perhaps eager) to dismiss all that she had to say.
Sarah Grand’s Birth Place: Donaghadee, Ireland
So what does the preceding have to do with social media? All too often when I visit interactive sites on the Internet, I find that discussions quickly degenerate into childish personal attacks, and of all the various types of attacks I witness, the ones I find the most annoying are those from clearly well-educated individuals who, rather than set an example and elevate the discussion by paying attention to the arguments being forwarded by participants, simply exercise their “literacy privilege” (more about that in a moment) by pointing out the grammar and spelling deficiencies of others.
A couple of weeks ago, a colleague of mine shared a link to a wonderful blog written by a woman named Chandra and called Painting the Grey Area. An entry there entitled “Literacy Privilege: How I Learned to Check Mine Instead of Making Fun of People’s Grammar on the Internet” has captured the attention of many and has certainly held mine. The writer of this entertainingly clever and informative piece admits to being a “recovering grammar snob.” At one time, she took pleasure in deriding the comments of those she disagreed with or whose attitudes she disliked by criticizing their grammar and spelling. Her later experiences as an adult literacy teacher, however, have dramatically changed her views on this practice. She now recognizes that such actions stem from a lack of awareness surrounding literacy issues and do nothing to improve conversation quality. Instead, this type of public shaming encourages others to engage in online bullying, silences people who may already exist on the margins of society, and reveals a smallness of character in those who do it.
Keep away from small people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. ~Mark Twain
If you haven’t already read this blog, please do. I think this piece should be mandatory reading for all librarians and information scientists because most—if not all—of us will teach literacy skills of one kind or another in our professional lives and will likely be responsible for establishing connections with individuals and organizations through various means, including social media. It’s important, then, that we cultivate a strong understanding of literacy issues in order to become more effective communicators.
Further, if social media is going to play a significant role in our quest to become a more just, inclusive, compassionate, and wise society, then we have to be willing to excavate through poor grammar, bad spelling, and non-standard dialects to the heart of a message, keeping in mind what Chandra reminds us of early on her blog: that there is no correlation between intelligence level and literacy skills.
Please do not misunderstand me. I admire elegance, wit, sophistication, and polish as much as the next person, but I cannot help thinking that in this age of branding, we’ve become far too enamored with packaging (of all kinds) at the expense of substance. The co-existence of substance and style are ideal, but if I had to choose between the two, I’d pick the former.
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