What’s With Reading on the Subway?

I live in Boston. I ride the subway (or the T, as we Bostonians call it) to and from work every morning and evening, 5 days a week. The journey from my apartment to my office spans almost the entire subway line — both stops are third-to-last from their respective ends. I spend at most 20 minutes on the train, but the majority of subway goers only ride for 10 (more or less).

In the mornings especially, the T is filled to the brim not just with people, but with people reading books. Not magazines, not newspapers — books. None of that blurb-happy short-attention-span stuff. You don’t have to look very hard to find Ernest Hemingway or Sylvia Plath.

This seemed very normal to me for the first few years I lived in Boston. I followed the trend (and still do). Why wouldn’t I read on the T? What else am I going to do for 8 minutes? Make conversation with a stranger? Or worse — make accidental eye contact with a stranger because I don’t have a body of text occupying my field of view?

Recently, I’ve begun to question the motives of people reading on the T. When you think about it, pulling a book from your backpack in a crowded trolley and reorienting your train of thought to read for 5 or 10 minutes is almost more effort than it’s worth. Reading a book requires one to maintain a level of comprehension and thought processing much deeper than, say, social networks or other short-attention-span print media do. In an environment as noisy and crowded as a subway car at rush hour, it’s quite hard to isolate oneself from external stimuli for long enough to focus on a novel.

So, why do we read on the T? I have a theory.

With the advent of smart phones, status quo activities to keep oneself occupied while riding the subway transitioned from newspapers and small talk to Facebook and text messaging. People used their cell phones without limitation or judgment, aside from occasional smirks from crotchety old men. It was the perfect way to avoid falling into the trap of conversation with another subway goer.

Then something changed. Excessive use of cell phones and obsession with social media became correlated with ignorance, shallowness and naïveté. Millennials like myself who grew up with smartphone culture were stereotyped as all of the above. This is a common theme in conversations I’ve had with my peers — it’s no secret that young people are pissed off about acquiring such an undesirable reputation.

So we shifted our preference back to print media.

Reading became hip once again. Geeks, bookworms, nerds — rejoice! The activity you were once mocked for in elementary school has become a symbol of refined taste. Let us bask in the glory.

Now, I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. I read on the T from time to time. But next time you pull a copy of Leaves of Grass from your leather backpack, take a moment to acknowledge your surroundings. Bear in mind that the subway is a public service. Everyone uses it, including people who can’t read. In 2013, 32 million Americans were illiterate — that’s a whopping 14% of the population. People don’t often talk about literacy privilege, but it’s very real and it’s something to be mindful of when you’re in any public place (not just while riding the subway). Consider the first three items on the Literacy Privilege Checklist, adapted from this blog post:

I can easily and safely navigate my way around the city I live in because I understand all of the posted signs, warnings and notifications.

I can make healthy and informed choices about the products I purchase because I can accurately read their labels and price tags.

I can safely use pharmaceuticals prescribed to me without having to remember the doctor’s or pharmacist’s instructions because I can accurately read their labels.

Sure, these sound like simple tasks, but many people in United States struggle with everyday actions like these because they do not have the privilege of literacy. Most people have never even considered that literacy is not a human right (although it should be). But literacy is not ubiquitous in the United States. Almost 1/3 of Americans in 2003 could not read above a “basic” level. Illiteracy is also much more frequent in marginalized groups. For example, more than 70% of incarcerated Americans cannot read above a fourth grade level.

I don’t think it’s necessary to spell out all of the challenges that people without the privilege of literacy face, but know that it’s certainly not limited to reading on the subway. I also don’t think it’s necessary that we collectively agree to stop reading on the subway. For many of us, the morning commute is the only free time we have on any given weekday. That being said, I urge everyone reading this to acknowledge their literacy privilege. In the future, you may find yourself wanting not to publicly advertise it.