Dear Ones,
This time last year, we were wrapping up another PWC weekend: finishing three-day workshops, outlining new projects, grabbing a stack of magazines from the coffee room, saying our goodbyes and making plans to meet again soon with writer friends, old and new. For me, Conference Sunday is always a slurry of emotions: exhaustion, relief, and most of all inspiration – that unmistakable electricity that buzzes through your veins after a weekend among a supportive community of writers.
Right now, I miss that part the most. It has been months since I have been in physical community with other writers. While I’m grateful for the connection that technology allows, something different happens when we are together in space and time: serendipitous images triggered by someone’s body wash or the sound of a stranger’s voice floating across a room; the multitudinous interpretations that arise from a shared experience; the cozy feeling of being at a family reunion with people you have just met.
But while I am sad to lose that sense of community by not holding a conference this year, I am all the more sad about all the loss our community – and our world – has experienced because of the COVID 19 pandemic. We have lost opportunities, jobs, resources, and stability. Saddest of all, we’ve lost friends and family, colleagues, coworkers, and neighbors.
As a teacher and a literary organizer, I can’t help but think of the writers’ we’ve lost: How many stories and storytellers, poems and poets were among the more than 400,000 people who have died from the coronavirus worldwide? Yet, I also realize that as I type new writers are being born out of the urgency of this moment. And for that, I am grateful and hopeful – and also not a little bit scared.
In recent weeks, America’s systemic racism and endemic mistreatment of Black people – especially by the police – have been pushed to the forefront of our collective consciousness. Story after story, video after video, shows the truth of how white Americans – civilians and police – brutalize Black people remorselessly. Yet too few white people are really reflecting on our own privilege, our own conscious and unconscious biases, our own need to change. Instead, many police seem to have doubled down on the authoritarian violence: arresting journalists, shooting people on their own porches, tear gassing protestors (in the middle of a pandemic, no less), assaulting protestors with little or no provocation, and, of course, killing more unarmed Black people. Too often, these facts are twisted into familiar racist narratives that blame the victims for the violence and oppression they receive; too often, white Americans are willing to accept these narratives because they are more comfortable than facing the truth.
It is the job of writers and artists to shine light in the darkness, to lay bare our human flaws and foibles, to challenge us to see our worst selves so that we may become our best selves. Right now, that challenge is as great as it has ever been – as willful ignorance thrives and deliberate resistance to facts, reality, and truth grows stronger and more unyielding.
Being a writer is hard work; you must stay dedicated and optimistic while also expecting rejection and apathy. But now, we must push ourselves more than ever before to face uncomfortable truths and take them on, talk about them, and write about them. We cannot be silent any longer. White privilege is real. If you are white, you have it. Racism is real; if you are white, it lives inside of you, whether you know it or not.
Likewise, I must acknowledge an uncomfortable truth about the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference: for far too long we have not represented the rich diversity of this city. Although we have made it a priority over the past several years, our board and our faculty still do not include enough people of color, and we have been weaker for it. We have not shown through our actions what we firmly believe: Black Lives Matter. Black Voices Matter.
We can and must do better.
So, yes, I am grateful that we were not planning an event this year, that we didn’t have to cancel an event and bankrupt a 71-year-old Philadelphia institution. I am also grateful for the hard truths this world continues to teach us, the reminders of why it is so important that we lean into discomfort and strive to be more than what we have always been. Right now, the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference is rebuilding our Board and reimagining our programming. We are gaining insight from writers and stakeholders throughout Philadelphia. We will not settle for comfortable or easy, and we will emerge in 2021 as the type of Conference that this region deserves.
Autumn Konopka
President, Philadelphia Writers’ Conference
8 Comments
Jennifer Lincoln
June 7, 2020 at 10:03 pmWow, wow is all I can say to the recent post that I just finished reading. I am offended and completely turned off with the Phila. Conference group of people who feel it necessary to use the Conference as a political soapbox. This is not the place to be taking sides or discussing the personal ideas of an individual. I am so disappointed and feel that this could possibly be the end of my support of this group.
Autumn Konopka
June 20, 2020 at 1:29 pmJennifer, Thank you for your response. It is my belief that neither equality nor the racism that prevents it are political issues. These are human issues. As such, it is important for our organization — and every organization — to affirm our commitment to dismantling the systemic racism that has kept us from being fully inclusive, welcoming, and representative of the BIPOC in our community. Furthermore, as writers, we have an important place in society and culture: our words have the power to affect change. Writers throughout history have been banned, jailed, and even killed for writing truths that others weren’t ready to hear. The Philadelphia Writers’ Conference should be a space that is both brave and safe for all people and all voices to write their truths. We are not a political organization; we won’t tell you how to vote or what to think. However, if you are upset by our commitment to be an actively anti-racist organization, to affirm and support equality for BIPOC and the LGBTQ+ community, and to build community among all writers in the Philadelphia region, then we may not be the conference for you. On the other hand, if you have questions you’d like to discuss further, you can reach out to me.
Ann Bracken
June 7, 2020 at 10:36 pmThank you, Autumn, for your lovely reflection on what would have been conference weekend. Last year was my 1st PWC weekend and I came up from Columbia, MD. The conference was wonderful and I loved the workshops and all the speakers. I’ve also benefitted from two recent classes offered through PWC–with Chad Frame and Stephanie King. Glad to see your commitment to working more on including voices of people of color, and I look forward to continued association with your wonderful group. Cheers to all of you!
Autumn Konopka
June 20, 2020 at 1:26 pmThank you, Ann. I’m glad to hear about your good experiences, and I look forward to reconnecting at another program.
Kay Spann Byrd
June 8, 2020 at 5:03 pmAmen to that Autumn. Well said. Looking forward to the new year!
Autumn Konopka
June 20, 2020 at 1:25 pmUs too!!! Thanks for staying in touch.
Cindi Clover
June 26, 2020 at 5:15 pmAs the mother of a law-enforcement officer who goes to work every night and puts his life on the line for mine and yours, I am deeply disturbed by the characterization I just read of police officers as racist criminals, despite the fact that the vast majority – like my son – faithfully serve their communities, both on and off duty. The pen is a powerful tool and, one would hope, one to be used responsibly to influence unity and not to further more hatred and violence in this precarious moment in history. Nor should such writing as this article simply be excused as an agent promoting “hard truths”. Your generalized characterization of law enforcement is neither true nor admirable. Morever, I am saddened to see this kind of propaganda from a “Christian” organization. I’ve no doubt the flippant response to this comment will be some version of “then this is just not the right conference for you”. You’re right. I will no longer support an event where good men and women are denigrated – for any reason – and especially not because someone needs a political platform.
Autumn Konopka
June 26, 2020 at 7:24 pmCindi, First of all, I’d like to clearly correct your belief that our organization is “Christian.” The Philadelphia Writers’ Conference is not affiliated with any religion, faith, or ideology. Our only belief — as an organization — is in the power of words, and we welcome ANYONE — of any religion, occupation, race, ethnicity, gender identity, political affiliation, etc. — into our community.
With that in mind, I appreciate that you have expressed your concern about my post. I do not believe that supporting Black Americans or working to dismantle racism is political. However, as a mother myself, I understand your defense in response to what seems to feel like an attack on your child. Instead of an attack on police, this piece was intended as a call to consciousness for white writers and white Americans, and a note of support to those in our community are suffering because of no choice of their own, rather the color of the skin they were born in.
Finally, I am slow and cautious writer, a poet, so I can assure you, nothing in my response is offered flippantly. That said: Because you seem to be looking for a Christian organization, PWC may not be a fit for you. If you are, however, interested in an organization that values writing community so much that it becomes a family — the kind of family where we can disagree with each other and still get along — then you are always welcome.