Reader, I’m sure you’re familiar with morning or nightly journaling, a trendy, enriching, and gratifying act of self-care. Its modern conception is often connoted with beige clothbound notebooks adorned with daily prompts and about three little lines for its writers to answer.
I’m sure you’re equally aware of its many benefits; perhaps you yourself enjoy journaling – as do I.
But I am here to raise a question: why, despite all its subdued, austere goodness, does modern journaling feel self-indulgent? To answer this, I think it is best to look at the history of the journal, or, as it has been more fondly called, the diary:
While diaries are traditionally regarded as somewhat of a feminine literary sphere, their outreach has historically been broader. Highly regarded, “official” English diarists, like Pepys and Boswell, established diaries as relevant in the literary canon. Take Pepys, whose writings granted us greater insight into the life of 17th-century London, especially the arenas of theater, politics, and the contemporary court.
Yet, whilst these male diaries are praised, the diaries of their female counterparts are overlooked. For instance, whilst Pepys became renowned for signing off his diaries with “And so to bed,” this phrase was originally coined by Lady Margaret Hobby. Men were not the only users of diaries – they were merely the ones to become successful for them.
Given this historical context, diaries cannot strictly be deemed as a feminine literary sphere, despite their modern connotations. Thus, though it would be naive to ignore the dangers of strictly gendering genres, we certainly can instead consider diaries as a particularly significant genre to women. This is because diaries provided a much-needed outlet for women historically, who were barred from universities and, prior to the mid-twentieth century, were often excluded from politics. In this sense, diaries both enabled the uncensored expression of a voice stifled by society and gave historical recounts of lives so often overlooked.
Take the phrase – “well-behaved women seldom make history:” whilst we often conflate this notion with the idea that to be seen and heard, women must bear arms against the system, the message at its core is simpler – the average lives of women were rarely something of interest to historians, and have barely been accounted for. Thus, diaries privilege the thoughts and chronicles of women throughout time.
Consider Virginia Woolf’s diaries, for instance: though she had the luxury of being a published writer, unlike many of her predecessors, her diaries offer us impeccable insights, both into her personhood and her literary genius, that would likely be undocumented otherwise.
However, there seems to be a large disconnect between diaries in this sense and modern-day journaling.
While I believe that this is not technically the case, one of the biggest signifiers of this shift is the change in labels.
Reader, what are your modern connotations with the word diary? I imagine you, along with society at large, conjure images of teenage girls, pouring anger and heartbreak out with glitter gel pens.
Whilst diary haters are reminiscent of Taylor Swift despisers – sneering at anything overtly reminiscent of female emotional expression – it is unsurprising that we unanimously (and subconsciously) delegitimize diaries.
Unlike their junior counterparts, journals are an acceptable form of self-expression despite having the literal same purpose.
I hypothesize, however, that their self-indulgence, rather than the catharsis elicited by historical diaries, is ironically engendered through their marketability.
It would be wrong to deny the consumerist nature of modern-day journals. Unlike blank diaries, modern journals have become “easy.” Most provide daily prompts or reduce the writing required to list format. Gone is the cleansing stream-of-consciousness prose.
Yet, this simplification of journaling negates its primary purpose – it stifles the writer’s voice. Journaling is no longer strictly an act of expression; it is self-indulgent because it is another loss to capitalist society – our thoughts and words must now fit into the boxes it provides for us. And though I will not deny that prompts can be helpful, or perhaps make diaries more accessible to those who struggle to write unprompted, it would be wrong to deny its divergence from its original form.
Thus, I conclude with a reminder that I do not disprove modern journaling nor deny its benefits. I merely make this comparison to remind readers of the rich history of the diary, and that we can read, write, and journal outside the societal box. Let us bring back diaries for those who wish to use one – they are nothing to be ashamed of!