We Need to Amplify Voices that Interrogate Power

Many of us aren’t surprised by the revelations of sexual misconduct and abuses of power that have recently come to light, and as editors, we have long expected similar reports of sexual discrimination and abuse in the literary world. Literary Hub decided to bring together nine women editors to have a discussion about these issues, focusing specifically on journals and magazines and the way women in positions of leadership have navigated these issues throughout their careers, and how they continue to navigate them.

Part One of this discussion appears here. 

_____________________________

Do you feel like women are fairly compensated and credited for the editorial work they do?

Elissa Schappell: I know they are at Tin House. In my experience outside of Tin House, on my own, I don’t know.

I do know that I have been paid less for my writing than my male peers.

I assumed that when an editor says they pay a dollar a word they meant across the board. It didn’t occur to me that they’d pay women a dollar, and men two dollars. I had no clue that I was paying a penis tax.

When I complained to a male writer friend he was pretty blasé about it. “You should have asked for more money. . .” he said. It never occurred to me, fool that I am, that I had to ask to be treated equally. Honestly, I was just so grateful to be writing for money. I suppose in hindsight it’s a bit pathetic.

Janice Lee: I mean, I think this is a larger problem of editors in general not getting compensated and credited for their work (for example, I make no money in any of my editor/publisher roles—in fact, I only put time, money, and resources into the projects). But yes, I think one thing that doesn’t often get discussed is how conversations about job roles and division of labor often don’t include the mental load as well, not just the tasks at hand. This comic does a really good job of illustrating that.

Often times I think that women and POC end up doing a lot more of the actual labor and getting less credit, perhaps because of lack of official titles on a masthead, or they may have started in a supporting role on a project and then ended up filling in gaps and doing more work to ensure project success. Part of the “mental load” isn’t just the project management stuff. It’s also being constantly sensitive and aware of what is happening in the literary world, managing expectations, considering issues of diversity and representation, balancing different concerns, being aware of context, etc.

Also, I think women and POC don’t often ask for anything in return. If the expectations are set that isn’t a budget for example, we know what we’re getting into. But I often find that white men see their work as a service and privilege and so that they ought to be owed something. I have heard countless stories of young female writers working with older male editors, often on their first publications, having great relationships with them online and being so thankful to have their work appreciated and published, and then, suddenly, perhaps after meeting them in person, or more prolonged contact, these male editors suddenly expecting something in return and going from “I just believe in promoting good work and putting more diverse work out there,” to “Come on, I know you like me too. And don’t you think you owe me?” I was at a dinner party last month where a writer started to tell a story of meeting one of her first editors in person, and before she was even halfway through, I already knew where the story was going. That’s how common this shit is.

Marisa Siegel: No. Flat-out, hands-down no. I can think of, off the top my head, several wonderful literary publications and all the Managing Editors are female. But go any higher on the masthead and the names belong overwhelmingly to men (and overwhelmingly to white men). Often, it’s those hardworking (female) Managing Editors running the day-to-day operations, spearheading new initiatives, keeping the ship afloat, and so forth, while the higher ups take credit. This is perhaps standard in any workplace hierarchy, but the gender imbalance is staggering within the literary community, and in three-plus years working as a Managing Editor, I felt that my work often went uncredited and unmentioned, even privately.

So this is absolutely an issue that The Rumpus has struggled with. Many of us believe that The Rumpus was built on the labor and talent of women editors and writers who went unacknowledged, or at least not properly credited, for far too long. When I purchased the site in January 2017, it was with the hope that we could create a masthead that is almost entirely female/NGI, and largely non-white. And we are moving in that direction, even as a volunteer organization who can’t pay our editors. So, it is possible. It requires ongoing commitment, a willingness to question our own choices and assumptions, and ongoing conversation with staff and readers.

Regarding compensation, I can’t speak from personal experience. The Rumpus runs on a shoestring budget and is only able to pay our Managing Editor and Store Manager/Bookkeeper, and they are paid small monthly stipends that are not equivalent to the work they do in any way. We’ve begun to pay feature writers and book reviewers, but that amount, too, is paltry.

But, anecdotally, I’m aware that female editors at publications that can pay salaries make less than male counterparts. I’ve also heard multiple stories where senior female editors, some who’ve been with a publication for a good length of time, learn they are making less than junior male counterparts who are much newer to the publication. For this reason (and so many more), I always encourage editors and writers, especially women, to talk as openly with each other as they can about money. Until we can openly discuss the “business” of the literary world, we won’t be able to address these financial and structural inequalities.

Halimah Marcus: I have a very difficult time asking to be compensated for my work. This hesitation is compounded by the fact that when I began working at Electric Lit, it was an all volunteer organization, where no one except the writers were paid. By the time I received a monthly stipend, my then co-editor and I were responsible for the organization’s fiscal health. After we covered our expenses and paid our writers, we paid ourselves (equally) what we could. Now that EL’s finances are my sole responsibility, I’m much more inclined to hire another editor or raise writer payments than I am to give myself a raise. For the top position in an organization, I am paid extremely modestly. Occasionally people have told me I should pay myself more, but that suggestion never comes with, “and I’m going to give you the money to do it!” The burden of improving my compensation falls me, and if I did unexpectedly come into, say $10,000, my own salary is not what I’d put that money toward.

Janice Lee: I’d also like to add, that there is so little transparency around all of these issues. It’s not uncommon for someone to get paid less because they didn’t know they could (or should) have asked for more. I’d like to advocate for more transparency in writers and editors sharing what they are getting compensated for editorial work, freelance writing, advances, speaking engagements, class visits, readings, etc. I know circumstances are often individual and matter on the nature of an event or gig, career level, budget, etc, but I think there is so little information out there we often don’t know what is even “appropriate.”

_____________________________

Do you feel as though things have gotten better for women since you started in the industry?

Elissa Schappell: Hell yes. In the late 80s and 90s the feeling was that there were only so many positions for women in the magazine world, only so many stories that you’d be considered for, unless you wanted to work at a woman’s magazine. You had to be a sport. I didn’t have a problem with that at the time, I really didn’t. I was pretty stupid about a lot of stuff.

I interviewed to be an NBC page in the late 80s. My first interview was with a woman. She said I was perfect, she thought I’d be great. I just had to meet the guy I’d be reporting to. I was confident that I had the job. So, I meet him and I think I’m killing it, we’re talking and laughing, then he says, “Yeah you’d be perfect, but I can’t hire you. You look just like my old girlfriend. We just broke up, and. . . so, you know. . .” Shrug.

And I was like, Yeah, I get it. You wouldn’t do that now.

At the time I never really thought about being called “princess”—which was my nickname when I worked in a newsroom in DC—or that having one of your editors at a party grabbing you and making you dance with him, or pulling you in for a too-tight hug, was that big of a deal. I saw that as just being the price you paid—you were a good sport—one of the boys, but of course you’re not one of the boys if somebody is trying to kiss you.

Yes it bugged me when one of my fellow reporters at SPY started saying that he had a friend at MTV in development and he thought I should have a talk show where I’d interview people in bed, and wouldn’t that be hilarious. And I was like, Um, sure. Then other people started chiming in, one of the senior editors, who I thought took me seriously, weighed in saying he thought it was a great idea.

It hardly destroyed me, but they would never have teased a guy like that—no way. And I know it wouldn’t happen now.

Halimah Marcus: I’ve had the privilege of watching many women (some of them my dear friends), who, like me, started in the industry by busting their asses in low-level positions, rise steadily to the top. It used to be that if I wanted to get in touch with a higher up at a website, publisher, literary organization, etc., I needed an introduction from someone with access to the old boys’ club. (Maybe I didn’t strictly need an introduction, but come on. . . I did.) But more and more, the people that hold those positions are women with contemporary and inclusive outlooks.

_____________________________

Have you had mentors or advocates that have especially helped you?

Jennifer Acker: Yes. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about mentorship. While I have had two strong women as bosses in my editorial career, they did not become mentors. My real and enduring mentors in the publishing world have been men. (I’m speaking here as a publisher and editor, not as a writer.) These men have been extremely important to me—by believing in and encouraging my ideas, providing suggestions and guidance, stopping me from doing stupid things, and congratulating me on a job well done. But why have none of these figures been women? Is it a question of scarcity, or a question of attitude? Scarcity could mean two things: that there are fewer women in positions of power, or that the women who do fill those roles are not in a position to be good mentors. I don’t mean these women don’t have the skills or the desire, but that professional women are typically overextended both at work and with family life and therefore have less time for the extras. (Mentorship is time-consuming; it involves reading and thinking and talking that is not directly in service of your own goals, or even necessarily those of your department or organization.) But I’m also suggesting that women in power may not feel secure in their positions, and are therefore too nervous to be confident guides. This anxiety overlaps with my idea about “attitude.” Women often feel, and often rightly so, as if they have had to both work harder than men and toe a straighter line, leaving little room for mistakes; the accretion of this feeling of tenuousness would lead women to be less inclined to take professional chances. Although we don’t usually think of it this in this way, mentorship involves taking risks. It means sticking your neck out for an unproven talent; introducing junior colleagues or students to people who are powerful in your own world; promoting someone to grow into a job; publishing a piece that has a few lingering problems because the author’s voice is important. Failing at any of these things risks public humiliation. Women in power who are already under significant scrutiny tend not to step out on a limb. Men, on the other hand, are taught that they must take risks, and that failures will not demote them. This frees men up to promote and endorse risky projects (like starting a literary magazine) and to back an unknown upstart.

I also wonder, of course, if I have gravitated more toward men, if I have set myself up for mentorship more often and more sincerely with them in a way I have not for women. This is a disturbing thought. Have I believed that men could do more for me because they were more powerful? Perhaps I also believed that men, more than women, would like to be my ally—because I was a young woman. I have been extremely fortunate that no man whom I considered a trusted mentor has ever behaved inappropriately—but there have been senior men I’ve sidled away from because I knew I could not trust them. (I think I have been lucky, and, as well, I’ve spent relatively little time in traditional, hierarchical environments.) But still I look around me now and think that while I see a lot of powerful, smart women, there are few who feel approachable as potential mentors and active supporters. When I zoom in on individual cases, what I see is that these women I admire are already overburdened by work or caretaking a young family, or both; it is all they can do to keep up with their own demanding jobs. (This is not just true in publishing, of course.) But perhaps this is more my perception than the reality, and I want to think harder about these cases.

Mentoring young women, in particular through The Common’s Literary Publishing Internship at Amherst College, is one of the best parts of my job.

Eliza Borné: I already mentioned Roger Hodge, who influenced much of my style as an editor (from the way I sequence issues to the way I communicate with writers on the page). He was an invaluable teacher. I was fairly inexperienced when Roger hired me, and I always appreciated how from my earliest days at the Oxford American, he trusted me to work independently on complex stories, advising when necessary but otherwise letting me figure out and work through problems on my own.

And I have to mention Jay Jennings, a former editor with Sports Illustrated, Tennis magazine, and Artforum, who moved home to Little Rock in 2007 to write a book. We were friends before Roger hired me (the community of editors in Little Rock is small) and Jay encouraged me to pursue a job at the OA in 2012. I didn’t think I’d be a competitive applicant—What’s the stat? That women don’t apply for jobs until they’re 100 percent qualified?—but Jay convinced me to go for it. Now he’s a senior editor at the OA. I hired him when I was promoted to editor-in-chief.

In the five years I’ve worked at the OA, I’ve also learned a ton from the brilliant writers I edit—people like Jamie Quatro, Anne Gisleson, Zandria F. Robinson, and Lauren Groff (to name a very few)—and my colleagues on the editorial staff. Maxwell George is an exceptionally gifted structural editor, and I’ve been very lucky to work with numerous women who have both supported me personally and made deeply meaningful contributions to the magazine (especially Jullianne Ballou, Caitlin Love, Rebecca Gayle Howell, Sara Lewis, Molly McCully Brown, Alyssa Coppelman, and Ali Welky).

Janice Lee: Oh so many awesome, badass women that have helped guide me and mentor me and advocate for me over the years. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them. Anna Joy Springer. Ali Liebegott. Eileen Myles. Teresa Carmody. Debra Di Blasi. And more recently, Porochista Khakpour. Also so many male advocates as well. Blake Butler. Michael Seidlinger. Chiwan Choi. Jon Wagner. Will Alexander. Harold Abramowitz. I’m super fortunate. I have found some of the best humans to surround myself with. I know I’m forgetting others. But I’ve learned so much from so many, and so much generosity from the hearts and minds of amazing human beings. I try to be as transparent as possible and help when I can. I’ve gotten better at saying no (we all have that problem, right?), but I think it’s important to continue having conversations, to continue sharing what we can and learning what we can.

Medaya Ocher: I can’t speak to this enough. I wouldn’t have this job without the women who have supported me in my career (most notably, Laurie Winer, Senior Editor at LARB, who has been such a generous and lovely advocate). I remember I was at a professional event, and I was just feeling oddly besieged by men, who seemed to be around every corner. I spoke to a friend and she said, listen go find a great woman editor and get coffee with her and just focus on that. And that idea felt like someone had thrown me a lifeline. Suddenly, there was a sense that I could breathe, and that I could talk to someone without sexual advances or significant glances or comments on my looks. I could. . . just relax. This is the world men live in? They can relax. What an enormous advantage, just to rest easy. It became clear to me that women mentors and advocates provide so much more than knowledge or power or experience. That relationship can be like a trap door in a tight room.

Of course, plenty of men have helped me in my career and have been nothing but wonderful and supportive figures but women mentors and advocates are, I think, just indispensable for other women in the field. And I would stress that those words don’t just apply to older or more established people in the profession. I would also apply them to my peers, who are advocates solely through their support or encouragement. There comes a moment when you look around and you see your allies, and honestly, most of the people I saw were other women.

Elissa Schappell: I studied creative writing with Amy Hempel. She encouraged me to write in my own voice. Not to try and sound like a man, or write like some nihilistic European consumptive. She said, “You’re funny. Why isn’t your work funny?”

I couldn’t reconcile what I’d always considered to be a defense mechanism, with it being a strength.

Francine Prose was a great role model. The first time I met her was when I was a waiter at Breadloaf. She’d come with her husband, Howie, and their two sons. I was in awe. I said something ridiculous like, I can’t believe you brought your kids with you, and she said, “You know why I brought them? So young women like you will see you don’t have to choose between being a writer and a mother.” It made a huge impression on me.

Halimah Marcus: Honestly, my best mentors have been the friends I’ve made in the literary community. Over lunch or drinks, we can discuss a very specific work problem in excruciating detail, debate the merits of a new novel, puzzle over the latest literary controversy, and then, if there’s time left, chat about our personal lives. Rather than a top-down, hierarchical mentorship, it’s a reciprocal one. They are my peers—a few years younger or a few years older, in positions with more, less, or equal responsibility—and they have been some of the most supportive and encouraging people in both my personal and professional life.

Marisa Siegel: Like Halimah, my mentors have overwhelmingly been friends and colleagues who are not necessarily in more advanced place in their careers; it is my peers and it is those peers who challenge me, inspire me, advise me, and support me. I would say that Melissa Febos has been a mentor to me (and also a friend). She was the first phone call I made when I seriously began to consider making an offer to purchase The Rumpus, and she has been in my corner since. She will always answer questions, give her thoughts, and help me make connections. And, she insists I believe in myself. It has made all the difference.

I’m really interested in what Jennifer says about why it might be harder for women to be mentors, and am going to keep thinking about this. For instance, there is a wonderful organization here in New York called Girls Write Now. We’ve helped promote their events on the site, and I love their mission. I’ve looked into being a mentor, but realistically, even before I became owner/EIC, as a full-time Managing Editor and new mom, there was no way I could give the time and energy those young women deserve. I don’t see myself having that time or energy for years.

I am always willing to answer questions, give advice, and help others make connections, and strive to be a mentor to younger editors and writers by doing those things and by making editorial choices with a transparency that holds me accountable. But there is absolutely an issue of time that is part and parcel of being a mother that I don’t see a male editor having. And that extends beyond the literary community, for sure. I have a partner who is incredibly involved—comes to all school meetings, takes my son to play dates and birthday parties, attends all doctor appointments, and makes being a dad a priority in every way, and yet. . . the responsibility of being a mother is larger. I don’t know how to put into just a few words why that is, but it does hinder forward momentum in a woman’s career, and it also therefore hinders a woman’s ability to mentor other women.

_____________________________

What still needs to be accomplished?

Alexandra Watson: The emphasis needs to shift from getting men to behave differently, to boosting more women to positions of power. Women lack power and influence in our society, so our calls for men to be more inclusive and less abusive often don’t compel them. There are obviously exceptions—queer men, gender nonconforming folks, people who grew up in matriarchal communities—tend to have more empathy for women’s discomfort and alienation, and more respect for our ideas. We should all promote and amplify women’s voices: hire and promote women editors; subscribe to small women-led journals; buy, read, and review women’s books; attend women’s readings. These practices have higher stakes in a society actively and violently trying to silence the traumas and voices of women and minorities: the imperative to seize cultural authority is upon us if we are to secure a future. And inspiring readers is only part of the work of generating action.

Elissa Schappell: Loads. Let’s start with pay equity.

Marisa Siegel: Making space for non-white writers and editors, and especially for women of color. Space on mastheads, space within publications, space across different kinds of writing and at different kinds of publications. In the current political and social environment, I believe white gatekeepers in literary organizations need to shut up and listen more, need to interrogate our thought processes and workflows more, and do better. I love that we are having these conversations, and every woman listed here is an editor/writer whose work I know and admire. But we have nine participants, and we are overwhelmingly white. I think it’s worth noting that, and thinking about why that might be. I don’t think the answers to these kinds of questions are easy or comfortable. It’s time to get more comfortable with uncomfortable, though.

Janice Lee: More transparency, around all of these issues. More conversations. Let’s not be afraid to talk honestly and openly. More advocacy, for each other.

_____________________________

Do you have any advice for young writers and editors on what to do when encountering sexism or sexual harassment in publishing?

Elissa Schappell: Take notes. Good detailed notes, in the moment, so you get it right. As painful as it is, I promise you, it helps to put your experience on paper. Take control of it. This happened to me, and it wasn’t okay. Then, use it. You will need documentation if you want to file a complaint. You will want notes to refer to when you write about it.

Marisa Siegel: My personal solution is always going to be to call it out. Name names. Speak truth to power. It’s not always comfortable, it’s never easy, and it’s likely a risk—whether that be risking our safety, our jobs, or our privacy. But the more we speak out, and the louder we speak out, the more change I believe we will see.

I understand why speaking up might be more difficult or even impossible within certain workplaces, though. Job security, paying the bills, greater fear of retribution and physical danger. . . I would never suggest that a young writer or editor who isn’t sure they want to speak out do it anyhow. I would encourage that person to reach out to HR, if HR exists at their workplace and they feel comfortable lodging a complaint, perhaps even anonymously. I would encourage that person to seek therapy to deal with the trauma of harassment, regardless of whether they are speaking out about what occurred. And I would encourage that person to speak with trusted friends about what happened, even if they cannot speak with colleagues or to contacts within the publishing industry.

Allison Wright: Like Marisa, I am prepared to speak up when confronted with harassment, be it directed at me or others. This isn’t specific to publishing, of course. In the past year, I have offered a ride to a woman whose boyfriend was berating her in a parking lot; I have offered to call the police for another woman who was clearly in danger, and when she asked me not to, I told her that she did not have to put up with that kind of treatment and left a card with names of local nonprofits that could help (I started carrying these in my bag about 18 months ago). Things like that are sometimes difficult for me, because that kind of outreach is new and hard, but in the grand scheme of things it’s easy for me. I’m protected by my whiteness, my class status, my job, my age, my gender identity, my education—so many identity vectors shape my privilege.

Young writers and editors are less likely to be in that position, even more so young writers and editors of color. It is scary to report your supervisor, to speak up about institutional sexism, to speak up period. Mentors are important. Not just the mentors you develop over the course of your career but mentor/mentee pairings. This would be a fantastic time for women in publishing to come together and say, Hey. We’re all in this together. Let’s pair off and check in with each other every couple of weeks. Chart our progress. Because it can be lonely. Self-doubt creeps in.

_____________________________

What can we do, as an industry and as individuals, to work against sexism and discrimination in the publishing industry?

Marisa Siegel: As an industry and as individuals, we must hold ourselves accountable. We need to support those who speak out about experiences of sexism, harassment, and discrimination, even when (especially when) it’s unpopular to do so. We have to ask the hard questions and talk out loud about our industry’s and our own shortcomings and then we have to be better. We have to use our power as gatekeepers to amplify the voices of those speaking out, of those asking the hard questions, and of those interrogating the power structures that allow rampant harassment and discrimination to perpetuate.

I hope that our first year post-sale at The Rumpus has been a step in the right direction. I wrote recently about what we’ve accomplished and where we’d like to go from here. What I think is most important is that we do not overlook the unpleasant or difficult parts of our history. (This is true for any organization, industry, and also for humanity.)

For The Rumpus, this means acknowledging that while we are moving in a different direction now, in the past, there have been issues of representation. There have been issues of women not getting proper credit for their work. There have been issues of harassment and bad behavior. I mean, let’s just say it: The Rumpus was founded by a man who has been accused of engaging in predatory behavior. It is always difficult to talk about this, but I always will. I don’t do so for clicks or because I want to hurt someone. I talk about it because it’s a reality, and we have to move forward from that reality. If we move forward without untangling and thinking about that messy history, we won’t really make the progress I believe we can make.

I’m not kidding myself. We are teeny-tiny literary magazine, and our reach and ability to change the world is what it is. But we are here, and we have a platform, and whether we reach ten or ten thousand people, I want to set an example for those readers. I want to share writing that I believe can change the world. We have to start somewhere.

Jennifer Acker: My personal checklist: Mentor young people. Ask for a raise. Promote other women. Talk with writers and editors unlike me (this is in fact the hardest one, given where I live and how easy it is to surround oneself with like-minded and like-backgrounded people). Elect more women to public office.

_____________________________

Contributors

Alexandra Watson, Editor of Apogee

Allison Wright, Executive Editor of Virginia Quarterly Review

Elissa Shappell, Editor of Tin House

Eliza Borné, Editor of Oxford American

Halimah Marcus, Executive Director of Electric Literature and Editor-in-Chief, Recommended Reading

Janice Lee, Executive Editor of Entropy, Co-Publisher of Civil Coping Mechanisms

Jennifer Acker, Founder and Editor in Chief of The Common

Marisa Siegel, Editor-in-Chief and owner of The Rumpus

Medaya Ocher, Managing Editor of Los Angeles Review of Books