When I signed up to attend Calvin College's Festival of Faith & Writing, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was hoping for some inspiration, some words of encouragement, some insightful tips to perhaps get me through my ongoing battles with writer’s block.
Instead I left convicted and with rearranged priorities. And I’m thankful for it.
As I chose and attended workshops, I found myself at war within.
As I chose and attended workshops, I found myself at war within. I was initially pulled to workshop listings that sounded like they would make me feel good, happy, maybe even like I was ready to sit down and write the next great American novel.
But I felt God nudging me, too, that maybe I wasn’t supposed to be comfortable the entire time. Maybe I was supposed to walk away challenged, not necessarily uplifted. Maybe I was supposed to attend workshops that would require me to just listen.
I heard from some truly incredible women — Kathy Khang, Lisa Sharon Harper, Marlena Graves, Carolina Hinojosa-Cisneros, Kathryn Freeman, Sandra Maria Van Opstal, Karen González — and found myself typing quotes and notes in my phone at a frantic pace. I heard hard, beautiful truths from these women of color.
We need to do a better job of letting women of color tell their stories, without trying to co-opt their stories for our own benefit.
And I walked away with this truth resonating in my head and heart: we need to do a better job of letting women of color tell their stories, without trying to co-opt their stories for our own benefit. As a white woman, I’ve known for a while that I have automatic privilege and platforms and means that many marginalized people don’t, and that I need to do a better step of leveraging it and setting myself aside.
As Kathy Khang said in one of the sessions: “Even though many of us are called, we are not given the opportunities.”
Observing and looking around the conference that weekend, I was also struck by how many of the participants were white. And that’s surely not because white people are the main folks who are passionate about faith and writing.
And that’s surely not because white people are the main folks who are passionate about faith and writing.
As several people pointed out in the final session I attended, these conferences are expensive to attend. Many of us to had to budget and plan for months to make it financially possible — without even realizing how many valuable voices we were missing because the financial hurdle we were focused on trying to clear. What if more of us gave up our spots and donated it to a scholarship fund? Or perhaps if we campaigned harder and louder for our favorite writers of color to be added to panels and keynotes, instead of just sitting back and letting the more prominent, well-known, typically white writers get offered those valuable spots?
Those few days at FFW were a concrete reminder: I need to be doing more, in words and actions. I need to keep listening to people of color. To keep reading their books. Promoting their work. Donating to scholarships. Stepping aside and passing the mic.
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