notes on fragmentation (an invitation - please read!)

radical love letters #70

Dear ones,

I have long lived a life with a foot in many, contradictory spaces. In my book, I talk about being a “class-straddler,” as a raised-poor femme who gained significant cultural/educational capital, but I have also straddled worlds seemingly more benign: punk shows alongside Sex and the City viewing parties, queer spaces alongside decidedly heterosexual ones, radical Left spaces alongside the neoliberal university, witchy/woo/healing spaces alongside all of the aforementioned. That “we contain multitudes,” is a cliché at this point, but it’s one that has always caused some suffering in me: how does one co-exist in disparate and even antagonistic worlds without feeling a little confused? And, unfortunately relevant to our late capitalist age of Brand Identity: how does one sell books as someone who wears all these hats (or punk patches, yoga pants, fake eyelashes, and foraging shears)? 

Of course, we are all used to a little silo-ing. Certainly those of us in (or adjacent to) academia know that it took a concentrated struggle to create the notion of “interdisciplinarity” – that perhaps just maybe History could benefit from Feminist Studies, that maybe Geography might learn a thing or two from Critical Race Theorists. But the norm was –and to a large extent continues to be– that our “disciplines” are separate things, to be treated as distinct. To challenge these norms would be to challenge the idea of “expert,” the existence of “the canon.” (God forbid white men with power in either of those realms be questioned!) 

We see the same thing happen outside of the academy too. We have our work life, our family life, our friend life, our hobbies. There is a meme that shows the difference in how you present on LinkedIn, Facebook, Insta, and Tinder (a dated, millennial meme, to be sure). This often makes sense, and isn’t particularly troublesome – I don’t want or need to talk to my family about the latest hot takes on anarchist Twitter, for example. But as I noted recently, as an authotheorist/memoirist who writes about my life, sometimes it feels hard not to disappoint certain portions of my “audience” (I guess that means you!). 

There is plenty of cultural commentary about the way we fragment our identities online, but only more recently are people talking about what this means for writing and writers (distinct, we like to fancy ourselves, from “content creators”). I appreciate when food writer Alicia Kennedy weighs in on this; in one essay she recounts: “‘I’m a writer!!!’ I am screaming, constantly, while I do amateur video editing to feed a hungry demigod.” I feel this way too, when I consider the people who follow me on Instagram compared to the people who follow me on Twitter; how I want to be taken seriously as a radical, an intellectual, and also a warm and fuzzy queer forest witch.  

I’m thinking about this tension constantly. I have deleted countless newsletter drafts for fear they were too ‘off brand.’ Some of you are here because you found me once as a fellow academic (hi FKJ, PhD fans <3), but now I mostly shit talk academia (though I obviously maintain a commitment to theory). Some of you are here because you read my memoir, but roll your eyes if I deep dive into the astrology of the moment. Some of you are here because you are interested in radical politics, but really don’t want to hear about my latest pop culture takes. And certainly some of you are here because you know and love me IRL, but would, uh, rather not read about how I like to be fucked. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (I have had iterations of all of those things in here). 

So what to do with that? How do I respond to being a complex public person while also trying to create cohesion that’s marketable (barf, I know, but here we are!). I don’t have answers, but I do have a plan: I am creating a paid subscriber version of the newsletter. In addition to all the existential dwelling articulated above, I am also in a spot where I simply need to find new sources of income, and, for my mental health, it would be ideal if those income streams included the ability for me to write. I’ve been making it work (barely) since my break up, but none of my jobs involved my own writing, and I really really really miss writing regularly. 

So here’s the deal: I will continue to publish free essays, mostly weekly. These essays will be primarily radical analysis of current happenings, weaving in theory and (vague) personal narrative, per usual. Inevitably there will be some spiritual stuff or sex stuff, but that won’t be the main thing. For folks who decide to throw some dollars my way, I will also provide weekly, more casual letters that include my “little lists” of Reading/Watching/Listening and the “Joy & Attention” shoutouts. These may be short check-ins, little self/community-care musings, or occasionally longer essays that talk about things that I maybe don’t want to be as ‘on main’ about. 

Of course I am deeply uncomfortable with a system that withholds content for folks who don’t have disposable income, so please believe me when I say: if you do not have the means to subscribe but really want the paid content, email me with a request. I will add you to the list, no questions asked (you do not need to apologize or share a trauma story. I believe you!). Seriously, I mean it. On the other hand, if you have the means and love to redistribute that bread, lemme know if you want to sponsor another person’s subscription!

So that’s it for now. I’ll start paid posts this week, and, as usual, free essays will continue as much as I can get to them. Thank you so much for considering supporting my work; but even if you don’t sign up, you’re supporting simply by reading, so thank you thank you thank you. 

I love you.

love & solidarity,

Raechel