I have had two conversations this weekend, about me altering things in my teenage diaries before I publish them here. As someone who has taken a social constructionist perspective in research, I understand that there is the truth, then there is the truth..... This ties in with a lecture I delivered recently on our on-line Masters programme.
When I wrote my secret 5 year diary in the 1970s I was giving a representation of my own version of events - what I would have said was the truth. This was clearly impacted on by some conscious distortion, but also by my need to create a certain personal identity narrative. What I wrote was also influenced by my age, the era and my hormones, as well as my personality. I was of my class, my gender and the '70s. So the socio-political influences, as well as the personal, helped construct the account I gave of myself.
Now here I am 40 years later, re-presenting my teenage representation of myself. The current socio-political climate, my development in terms of gender, class, education etc all have an impact on how I construe what I said then, and how I choose to transform it in the telling here and now (are you keeping up?)
If I choose not to report my grumpy jealous feelings, who am I protecting? If I leave in my comments about the Common Market, but not about my relationships, then I am clearly constructing an image, consciously, to some extent.
I am drivelling on in this vain because my sister said that I shouldn't attempt to make my 1970 diary entries politically correct to 2010 standards. (In my February(II) 1970 entry, I have said that Norma's friend Canchan was an Indian, when in fact, in my diary I called her coloured. This now makes me cringe, but, actually, at the time, I was being politically correct, although pc, as a term, wasn't in use then. In fact, Canchan was a Ugandan Asian, a refugee from Idi Amin's rule.
Another really interesting problem I had in transcribing, was that I put that my mum's birthday slippers cost 9sh 11d. In fact, in my real diary, I had put 9/11. This has such a different meaning nowadays that I chose not to use it.
My running friends say that I should leave all my jealousies and paranoias in my accounts, because these are fairly typical of the insecurities of all 13 year old girls. Not totally convinced about this. It could end up with my current relationships with old friends suffering! The truth may continue not to be fully out....
The overall outcome of this is that I have decided that, where appropriate, I will have to put a little commentary on diary sections. A bit like film directors do on DVDs.
Why I love reading your diary snippets:
ReplyDeleteBecause they are a view of a world so far away from my own adolescence. You're one of those exotic 'Jackie' readers I used to envy so much. Regardless of whether you see yourself as such, it's what I'm projecting onto what I'm reading. Readers, as you know, will do this. You can't control them. Like patients (for therapists) and students (for teachers), authors would have a much easier time without them. Write what you like - but do write! It's such fun to read.
Thanks Gail.
ReplyDeleteI was a Jackie reader - avid! But not sure that was exotic. I used to make the things that Jackie magazine told me to make, and envy the clothes they told me to envy. And I learned something about relationships from Cathy and Claire. Couldn't you get Jackie? Or Bunty when you were younger? There must have been an equivalent?!
I wasn't allowed Jackie! Bunty, yes; Jackie, no. FAR to full of questionable morals - the Bay City Rollers and girls who were allowed to go to discos and wear lipstick and eye shadow (I used to look at the Boots adverts in the copies I read at friends' houses and drool...). I led a very, very sheltered life until I was about 17. I'm still making up for it.
ReplyDeleteI don't think that my parents were aware of the possible corrupting influence of Jackie magazine. They were quite old parents, which made them old-fashioned in many ways, but probably a bit unsuspecting, too. Mind you, I never found Jackie very corrupting. I probably thought it was talking to / about other teenagers, not me. It's like I could read Enid Blyton books happily, knowing they were about girls who only overlapped with my existence by about 5% (ie, they were English and went to school).
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