Stories We Tell Now

Are the characters’ experiences in Jennifer Swift’s “Stories We Tell Now” supposed to represent those of most women, or just a particular group of women in a specific decade and region?

I didn’t witness the type of situations Swift describes when I was young, and I have seldom encountered them later in life. Over the years my friends and I talked about which boys and men we “had the hots for”; we weren’t focused on how they rated us. And we knew they had no right to touch us if we weren’t interested in touching them.

Swift’s last lines are: “We want to tell her a new story. . . . We have so much more to say.” I wonder if the “new story” would describe girls’ and women’s sexual desires (for males or females) in a positive way. I hope the women in that story would talk to each other about their physical needs and emotions — and that they would experience camaraderie instead of the rivalry and resentment that Swift describes. I hope those women would admire, inspire, and take care of one another.

Margaret Bockting Chapel Hill, North Carolina

In Jennifer Swift’s “Stories We Tell Now,” a book club discusses a rape at a high-school party, and Swift attempts to evenly present both sides of the argument about who is at fault. The two sides are very much not equal, however. One person did perhaps do some stupid things; the other committed a serious crime that will scar a young woman for life.

As someone who has never been the victim of such a crime, I find it shocking if this is where the conversation stands in the twenty-first century.

Marilyn Lemmon Mount Shasta, California

Jennifer Swift responds:

The dialogue in “Stories We Tell Now” is intended to expose the “boys will be boys” excuse by juxtaposing it with women’s stories, rather than balancing both sides equally. I understand, though, that once a story goes out into the world, it has to stand on its own merits. I’m grateful for these thoughtful responses and for any discussion of this important issue.

Jennifer Swift responds:

The conversations Paula Marston had with her group, and the questions asked and wishes shared by Margaret Bockting, express exactly my hope for “Stories We Tell Now”: that women’s experiences will continue to be talked about — and heard.

Thank you for publishing Jennifer Swift’s short story “Stories We Tell Now” [September 2019], about a group of women discussing an alleged rape. The #MeToo movement has raised awareness about how frequently sexual misconduct and assault occur. Women have always known this; the men I talk with often seem surprised to find out. I hope men are beginning to acknowledge that women’s lived experiences are quite different from their own.

Sasha Price San Francisco, California

Jennifer Swift’s “Stories We Tell Now” [September 2019], in which a group of women discuss an alleged rape, prompted a similarly lively talk at my Sun discussion group.

The characters in that story repeating the sexist names men called them — “Prude. Tease. Cock tease. Slut. Whore.” — brought to mind many similar episodes with boys and men during my own teen years. But I also remember the way girls treated each other with jealousy, often shunning one another or spreading lies.

I’m seventy-one, and a woman of sixty-three in our group was shocked by my recollections. She remembered her friends being supportive and was adamant that they wouldn’t have allowed boys or men to treat them so badly. I’ve noticed the same attitude among my relatives in their twenties, and I applaud it. But I wonder if those in their twenties realize how women of previous generations — often without an education, a job, or money of their own, and with children to raise — worked for changes like women’s liberation, women in the workplace, and birth control. These all contributed to the situation the younger generation now sees as the norm.

Paula Marston Raleigh, North Carolina

Bless you for printing Jennifer Swift’s “Stories We Tell Now.” And thanks to Swift for writing about an enormously complex human experience that’s become so deeply rooted in our culture.

Linda Beckerman Los Angeles, California