The Duel of Words:
How I Use Language to Meet the Moment as a TLArtist
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I dwell at the intersection of past and present, guiding students through the complicated terrain of media literacy while walking with reverence through the paths of historic cemeteries. My life as an English professor and cemetery historian might seem like an unusual pairing, but it is through the power of words that I find harmony in both. Language, rather printed, spoken, or even etched in stone, has the power to illuminate truth, fuel controversy, shape legacies, and build bridges across centuries.
This moment in time calls for thoughtful storytellers who can wield words with care and courage. I teach my students that the ability to analyze and produce media responsibly is not only a skill but a civic duty. At the same time, in my work as a cemetery historian, I invite communities to confront complicated legacies, honor lives long past, and find connection in our shared humanity.
The through-line is language. Language is what binds the living and the dead, what shapes public discourse, and what allows us to reflect, reckon, and reimagine.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the 19th-century duel in Richmond, Virginia between John Hampden Pleasants and Thomas Ritchie as an entry point into these discussions. It’s a story that reads like a Southern Gothic drama, and yet it holds deeply modern resonance. Pleasants, founder of the Richmond Whig, and Ritchie, editor of the Richmond Enquirer, engaged in a war of words that ultimately escalated into fatal violence. In 1846, the ideological rift between the two men turned deadly when Pleasants challenged Ritchie to a duel. Pleasants died from a sword wound inflicted by Ritchie. Though Ritchie was acquitted of any crime, he lived with deep regret and later left a large sum of money to Pleasants’ daughter in his will.
This historical event, tragic and sensational, is more than an anecdote from the annals of Richmond journalism. It’s a cautionary tale about what happens when discourse fails, when ego eclipses empathy, and when the privilege of having a platform is weaponized. The newspapers of the antebellum South were not neutral observers; they were active participants in shaping public opinion, especially on subjects like slavery. Pleasants, who did advocate for the freeing of some enslaved people, bristled at being labeled an abolitionist—a term used pejoratively in slaveholding states. That a word could carry such weight and provoke such violence reminds us just how powerful language can be.
As a media literacy professor, I see echoes of the Pleasants-Ritchie conflict in today’s digital ecosystems. The duels of the 21st century are fought not on secluded fields with pistols and swords, but on social media platforms, in the comment sections, and in viral headlines. Just like the rival newspapers of the 1800s, today’s media outlets often serve as battlegrounds where ideology and identity collide. What has changed is the speed and scale at which language travels, and the stakes remain just as high.
That’s why I challenge my students not just to consume media, but to interrogate it. Who is the speaker? What is their agenda? Who benefits from this message? Whose voices are missing? In doing so, we reclaim agency over our own narratives. We learn that every post, every headline, every "like" is part of a broader cultural conversation. In this way, we are all editors now, and the responsibility that comes with that role is immense.
In the cemetery, that responsibility takes on a quieter, yet no less profound, form. Here, words are chiseled into headstones and monuments, often reflecting the values and exclusions of their time. I guide visitors through the layers of local history, using epitaphs, burial records, and newspaper obituaries to tell stories that might otherwise be forgotten. I emphasize that history isn’t just about dates and names—it’s about understanding how people lived, what they believed, and how they wished to be remembered.
I especially focus on the tensions and contradictions of the past, such as those embodied by Pleasants and Ritchie. Both men were products of their era, shaped by privilege, ideology, and the social expectations of Southern white elites. And yet their conflict—so deeply rooted in pride and public image—feels eerily familiar in our age of performative outrage and culture wars. Understanding their story helps me empathize with their humanity, even while critically examining the systems of power they upheld. It teaches me and my students that the goal of scholarship is not to win arguments, but to seek understanding.
This is the heart of my work as a TLArtist. I do not separate my academic life from my artistic or community work. Whether I’m in the classroom, leading a cemetery tour, or curating archival newspaper clippings, I’m always asking: how can words help us meet this moment with greater clarity, compassion, and courage? I believe that by bridging past and present, intellect and emotion, we can model a more ethical way of engaging with the world.
There is a temptation today to flatten complexity, to retreat into binaries, to demand instant answers. But the past, like the present, resists simplification. When we tell stories like that of Pleasants and Ritchie, we are reminded that words matter. That headlines can kill. That writing history is never neutral. And that language, for all its beauty and peril, remains our most human tool for navigating the unknown.
So, I will continue to teach my students to read deeply, write boldly, and think critically. I will continue to walk among the dead and speak their names. And I will continue to use my voice, not to duel, but to dialogue. In this way, I hope to meet the current moment not with a sword, but with a story.
Sharon Pajka PhD, is a professor of English at Gallaudet University. She is the author of Women Writers Buried in Virginia (2021) and The Souls Close to Edgar Allan Poe: Graves of his family, friends, and foes (2023). On the weekends, find her in the cemetery giving history tours or volunteering, as well as running the Virginia Chapter of the Association for Gravestone Studies.
Good to Know: In September, Sharon will be facilitating her six-week course “Writing the Dead” through TLAN. “Writing the Dead” facilitates meaningful dialogue about mortality, fosters creative engagement with themes of grief and remembrance, and encourages participants to use writing and art as transformative tools for connection. Check out the description and join us!
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The Magic Eye and Writing From Body and Place: A Workshop and Reading// with Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg
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Writing Hope: Turning to the Page in Difficult Times // with Angie Ebba
10 September 2025 • Online
Writing the Dead // with Sharon Pajka
17 September 2025 • Online
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