This is not exactly a story or even a longform essay. But, I am still very proud of having The Atlantic feature my thoughts on the book/passage that had a life-changing effect on me.
I have written about Virginia Woolf’s ‘A Room of One’s Own‘ before. It continues to be my guiding beacon in every major life decision.
I first came across a worn-down copy of Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own at age 18 in a tiny “raddiwala” (used paper/scrap collector) shack in Bombay, India. Reading it all the way through that evening, I went alternately hot and cold at various passages. Like the Girton College women [to whom Woolf addressed the essay], I was trying to decide what to do next with my life, as the options for someone of my gender, class, and caste in India then were limited and all led to a lifetime of housewifery. I had wanted be a journalist, a writer, and had been told it was not a respectable profession. I had heard the ridicule Woolf had described: “The world said with a guffaw, Write? What’s the good of your writing?”