My favorite stories often revolve around similar themes: justice, community, gender, and religion. In April 2019, the dominant themes in my favorite stories were gender and justice (or lack thereof), two important topics that intersect our lives in countless ways. These stories include “In That Place She Grows a Garden” by Del Sandeen in FIYAH Literary Magazine; “A Conch-Shell’s Notes” by Shweta Adhyam in Lightspeed Magazine; and “Vīs Dēlendī” by Marie Brennan in Uncanny Magazine. I found these stories emotionally and intellectually engaging, and they asked me to approach the themes of gender and justice from a variety of perspectives.
“In That Place She Grows a Garden” by Del Sandeen
Rayven James is one of the few Black students who attends Queen Mary Catholic High School, a majority-white school. Rayven has been growing out her dreadlocks for four years when Principal Vargas dies. Not long after taking over, Mrs. McGee, the new principal, calls Rayven to her office. Rayven’s locs are against dress code, Principal McGee tells her, and she has to cut her hair.
As it no doubt intends to, this story makes me angry. Dress codes are often dumb and problematic to begin with, and all the more so when a dress code written by white administrators for white students is applied to a Black student on scholarship who lacks much power to resist or to formally challenge the policy. And I say that as a white person. If you’re Black — if you’ve faced a bullshit dress code like this one — this story will probably elicit even more rage from you.
But this story only begins with anger. Halfway through, the story’s fantastic element appears and empowers Rayven. I had great fun watching Rayven at first baffle and latter frighten Principal McGee. Although the policy doesn’t ultimately get repealed, the story’s ending is nevertheless hopeful and affirming. Rayven’s hair itself becomes a powerful and effective way to resist her school’s dress code.
This story got me thinking about the roles of both individuals and policies. Principal Vargas overlooked Rayven’s hair, which is good, but he didn’t change the policy. So when Mrs. McGee took over, Rayven was suddenly vulnerable to the discriminatory policy again. It’s good to have individuals in power who can exercise their authority with discretion, who can ignore or stonewall unjust policies. But it’s even more important to not enact unjust policies in the first place and to work to get rid of them when they do exist. As a whole, however, this story is less concerned with leadership and more concerned with pride, resistance, and strength in the face of adversity.
“A Conch-Shell’s Notes” by Shweta Adhyam
In a seaside temple, there is a magical conch-shell that offers advice and guidance to the residents of Peacetown. Kwa follows its advice, and he becomes a hero. Var follows its advice, and he becomes mayor. Shai follows its advice, and … she lives a hard, unforgiving life.
“A Conch-Shell’s Notes” interrogates how patriarchy and sexism deeply inform the hero’s journey and our understandings of heroism. Both Kwa and Var have paths available to them toward success, renown, and heroism. Shai does not. The only path available to Shai is an unhappy marriage. The only choice she has is about which man to marry. I can’t decide whether the conch-shell lies to and misleads her or whether the narrow options of society box her in and the conch-shell merely reinforces that. The story does not clearly answer this question, which I think condemns not only patriarchal social structures but also the biased narratives we sometimes unknowingly buy into.
If Shai’s choice to marry and raise a family were truly respected and recognized as vital to the community, then perhaps it would be okay that Shai didn’t have the opportunity to become a hero or a mayor. However, within Peacetown’s patriarchal social system, the only path available to Shai is undervalued and overlooked. Traditional “women’s work” — working within the home and supporting others — isn’t viewed by her culture as heroic or worthy of genuine honor and praise. This story asks us to rethink not only who can be a hero, but also how heroes are made and what exactly constitutes a hero. By doing so, “A Conch-Shell’s Notes” invites its readers to explore what happens when we center women and women’s work within fantasy narratives. In the accompanying author interview, Adhyam says, “Maybe in a decade or three, I can read (or write!) that epic fantasy doorstop about changing the future of a community/city/country by doing ‘women’s work.’” Gosh, I would love to read that book, and after reading this story, I feel encouraged and motivated to try writing it.
It should also be said that this story is fun. It’s easy to read, it’s playful, and it has got a charming fantasy setting that borrows from Western and Indian cultures, seamlessly blending them together. This story is also quite short (2,500 words), so just do yourself a favor and go read it already.
“Vīs Dēlendī” by Marie Brennan
Harrik Neconnu stands before the thirteen masters for his examination. He will either earn a degree or be kicked out of the academy of magic. Daringly, he seeks the degree of vīs faciendī, the academy’s highest honor.
Magic academies are a fun yet somewhat well-trodden trope. This story brings new life to that classic trope by making Neconnu’s examination feel like a graduate school dissertation defense. The universe feels exciting, interesting, and deeply fleshed out, much more so than most short stories I read. There’s fascinating history here, too — details about the magic academy and the character’s personal backstories that are skillfully weaved into the narrative.
The story as a whole is just remarkably well-crafted. It opens with a compelling set of questions and ends with a surprising yet inevitable conclusion. The prose is rich and detailed while at the same time simple, readable, and tightly focused on the intriguing plot. Each sentence was enjoyable, digestible, and pulled me right along to the next.
Ultimately, this is a story about grief, love, and romance, but it is also about pride, obsession, and toxicity. It’s honestly quite a depressing story, thematically speaking, but at least for me, it was written in such an entertaining, satisfying way that the conclusion wasn’t as depressing as it otherwise could have been. I can’t rave too much more about this piece without spoiling the best parts of it, so I’ll have to stop here with one final exhortation: if you like magic academies or are interested in gender and masculinity, read this story.
Those were three favorite stories from stories from April. What were yours? Did I miss any other awesome stories dealing with gender and justice?
