Dear America,

Dear America,

I miss you. I mean, I know I live here--in Texas, one of the United States, but you're probably still upset that I seemed to break up with you, academically speaking, a couple of years ago. You see me as a formerly loud and proud Americanist who allowed herself to be wooed by those pesky English with their digestives, meat pies, and fancy hats.

Well, I'm here to tell you that I have done no such thing. (Family, friends, and former colleagues can attest: they still ask me questions and send me stuff about Hemingway all the time, and he's one of your greats!) I'm just checking out the other side of the pond, trying to see things from their perspective. Many of your finest modernist writers lived overseas back in the day; it's seems fitting that I, who aspire to be one of your finer (finest would be pushing the ego envelope) writers of scholarly criticism, then, should see what's up in that neck of the woods. Yes, yes, I've gone back to the nineteenth century, I'm a Victorianist--but my new position will help me do what they call a "sneak attack" in war, no? I've got to surprise the American modernists from behind. Trust me, it's brilliant. I've got it all worked out.

But, as you know, I had never looked back into your literary history, either: Melville, Hawthorne, and Poe (love those guys) were about as far back as I'd gone. I'm hoping you're pleased with me for taking the time to do so this semester.

I cannot, however, say that I'm as pleased with you. Richard D. Brown continues the conversation Gross started in his introduction to Extensive Republic regarding the public sphere, and I just don't like that women were so marginalized. Yes, yes, I know, it's all a process, these things take time. But why? Why did it have to take time? Why was the notion of a female intellectual so unacceptable? Why--how--did these constructed gender binaries get created? Sure, you'll say, "don't look at me--such things were in place before everyone came over here." But you know what? I am looking at you. America was supposed to be about change, about progress, about doing things in non-British ways. Why couldn't you have extended these non-British ways to your treatment of women? Seems like common sense to me, but I guess the only Common Sense you had was in the form of a pamphlet by one Thomas Paine. That was enough radical thinking for your vast terrain, ay?

What's that? Oh yes, I know, Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Woman was a hot commodity--I can read Brown's chapter just fine on my own, thank you. I'm literate. But you were satisfied to let the feminist thinking of a British woman circulate--why didn't you let the voices of American women be more readily and easily heard in your public sphere? Why were they silenced?

I already know how you'll respond: you'll tell me I'm being silly, cliche, and certainly not very erudite. But I operate within a scholarly framework all the time, and I wanted to use some "rude diction," Paine-style. See where that got me.

It's only gotten me a wee bit frustrated, as I know all too well that placing blame won't get me anywhere.

Just know, America, that I appreciate the ways in which you strove to better yourself and make advancements as a nation in the 18th century. I only wish the advancement of women had been a part of your original agenda, too.

Your faithful inhabitant,
M. J. Couchon, the first.

p.s. Are you formally affiliated with Peter Simes's "America: The Blog?" If not, you should talk to Mr. Simes about being a sponsor; I really think it would help your street cred.