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Virginia Woolf sounds terribly impressive and certain, in her caustic sarcasm, in her controlled outrage.

She harps on and on about the necessity of money for (financial) autonomy for power (to disagree). But financial equity does not create other kinds of equity, necessarily. And other kinds of equity are necessary for widespread financial autonomy.

Woolf wants to see a breakdown of something: not of US/THEM, but of US versus THEM, the justifications for US, and why it’s better to be US and why WE can do things that THEY can’t. There is a multiplicity still; Woolf is merely pointing out that US and THEM have some general, overarching purposes in common.

Does Woolf say anything of interest, anything applicable to women who are not the daughter’s of education men? What is the contemporary equivalent of the daughter of the educated man? For whom is Woolf relevant, here and now?

When Woolf suggests the sacredness of writing (by comparing it to religion before religion became a profession, by comparing Shakespeare to the Bible), should that change how we view and take in her writing? Is she indulging in profession-pride or art-pride?

I stopped wearing my high school ring this summer. The high school I attended, Miss Porter's School, is very much like Bryn Mawr College. It was founded in 1843, and the sisters of the boys who went to the Ivy League colleges went there. Like Bryn Mawr, we have traditions at Porter's, and in the final one of the school year, New Girls (all students new that year) receive their ring and become Old Girls. Most Porter's girls don't wear their rings all the time, and many stop after graduation, but I put mine on everyday for six years. The magic is gone, and I can't believe in the Cult of the School anymore. I don't participate in any traditions. I have my lantern and keep it in a prominent place in my room, I keep my lizard keychain on a keyring with my One Card. But I’m not sure why I do. I leave things for Athena, but that's a private and individual act, and I'm a classicist who's been flirting with paganism since middle school, so that doesn’t have much to do with being at Bryn Mawr. I believed in the Cult of the School in high school, and I paid attention to the wins and losses of the Porter's athletic teams, I attended every performance of our a cappella group, I read every word in the student publications, and so on. I'm as enthusiastic about my studies as ever, more so, but I am no longer enthusiastic or prideful about my school. I don’t wear my high school ring. I will not buy a Bryn Mawr ring. I’d honestly rather spend the money on books, travel, art, theatrical and musical performances, good food and tea.

Am I performing a Woolfian experiment? A passive experiment, of non-participation in those rituals which create and bind together a community. An experiment in freedom from unreal loyalties, perhaps. But have I achieved thoughtful indifference, or am I merely as self-absorbed and introverted as ever, but without the pretense?

The overarching theme of the three chapters is that individual women should not congratulate themselves for improving their own status within the existing status quo. Woolf wants to see a change in the status quo, which she suggests is best achieved by experimenting, outside the status quo, with different ways of doing things. I’m already in the status quo – Porter’s and Bryn Mawr aren’t exactly Eton and Oxbridge, but near enough, especially given M. Carey Thomas’s vision for Bryn Mawr as no difference from the best universities, except for the admission of women. I’m already one of the lucky few, have been for years. What’s the point of any experiment, then? I’m not divesting myself of privilege, but not participating in expressions of college pride. Can I even envision of the poor, young school? Can I forgive it for not being as old as my high school?

Where shall I put my three guineas?

~Jessy