My first time writing an advice column was without submitted questions — just me, alone with my computer, spitballing at the screen. It was my senior year of high school, my final column, a last-ditch effort to leave something timeless behind. I remember splitting the column into sections: on health, on relationships, on wellness in general. It was broad but heartfelt — maybe not as applicable to others as I would’ve wanted — but I remember thinking, It would be cool to do this for real.
My second time writing an advice column was a brief stint last year on the Opinion section of The Michigan Daily. Myself and two other writers were hired to answer submissions, except, by the time the deadline came around, we had received hardly any questions to pen advice in response to. At the end of the semester, my recently-graduated sister admitted to submitting honest-ish submissions with her friends so that we would have something to reply to. I had a small suspicion after getting a submission about a roommate who refused to watch anything except curling during the 2022 Winter Olympics, but decided to withhold my skepticism.
At that point, the advice gig was coming to a close. The columns fizzled out quickly, and I wrote other pieces during that semester to fill the time. When the fall 2022 semester arrived, I transferred to The Statement, and my advice column prospects dissipated along with the change. But it wasn’t gone from my mind.
I felt like I had failed. Submissions never took off, and I only answered about three or four questions. It left me considering the philosophy of advice itself: What made me think I was qualified for the position? Did readers feel they could trust me? What do we look for in an advice column? How could I — how can anyone — do this right?
My first experience with an advice column was through American Girl’s monthly magazine, with little scoops on classroom crushes and embarrassing moments. From there, my tastes matured. Even now, when I think of the classic advice column, my mind turns to ’80s and early 2000s magazines and online forum submissions, like Reader’s Digest — women writing to other women about their husbands, boyfriends, diets and bodies. But glossy print magazines certainly weren’t the OG advice columns.
The first English advice column was published in 17th century England by John Dunton, editor in chief of the Athenian Mercury. According to writer Carolina Ciucci of Book Riot, London newspapers at the time “answered letters about current events and history, but Dunton also entertained letters about such disparate topics as botany and premarital sex.”
Both men and women were allowed to submit questions, and Dunton created not only a women’s section of the Mercury, but eventually a magazine dedicated solely to women: the Ladies Mercury. Though, this avenue ultimately barred women from conversations about the “arts and sciences, history, the world” and relegated them to “the purely personal.”
For the next two centuries, advice for women took the form of conduct books. Unlike etiquette books, which stressed manners for young women, conduct books intended to “mold the character of a young woman and teach her how to think, act, and speak in a way that was both morally and socially proper,” as clarified by writer, Rachel Dodge, in a blog post on Jane Austen’s World. These books took the form of manuals, letters and pamphlets. Conduct books written by both white men, and eventually white women, reinforced gender roles and white assimilation. For example, in “A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters” by John Gregory, he advises “modesty, which I think so essential in your sex, will naturally dispose you to be rather silent in company, especially in a large one … One may take a share in conversation without uttering a syllable.”
The advice column we know today is closely aligned with the work of Beatrice Fairfax, a pseudonym for the late 19th century journalist Marie Manning. She created an outlet where “people could write about their personal troubles — love and domestic — and receive unbiased opinions.” The Fairfax column was key in establishing this genre of journalism, leading to iconic columns just as Reader’s Digest and Dear Abby.
While the advice column has developed from its original habits rooted in white patriarchy, the modern advice column is, nevertheless, poised towards a white, female, middle-class audience. I think this history is fundamental when considering how to invite inclusivity and diversity into submissions. What sort of topics does the writer express interest in discussing? If their focus is narrow, are there other writers covering the wide spread of questions?
This history is also not without consequence for men. It is not that men, particularly white men, were excluded from the genre, but rather they initiated a level of control that made them the authorities of advice, especially with the publishing of conduct books. Over time, as women-only sections developed and indulged readers in frivolous matters, the advice column as a whole took on that reputation. I would argue the advice column is not women-dominated today because women need the most advice, but because men are conditioned to view seeking out advice as a feminine activity, if not a weakness.
We must also consider how this history influences the writer. What gives someone the credibility to pen an advice column? Is it many years and experiences under their belt? Is it a degree in sociology, psychology or social work? How do you account for differences in age, gender, race, sexuality and so on?
As much as we may try to imagine, there is no picture-perfect advice columnist. Credibility for an advice columnist is different from the credibility of a news journalist. Advice relies on opinion and personal experiences, and it’s much harder to reflect one’s common sense and empathy without facts and data as evidence supporting their ability. I would argue it is less about experience or education and more about character. This is not a solution; degrees and experiences can be reflective of intelligence and wisdom, but even then, the qualities that make someone good at giving advice are intangible and vary from person to person. I believe empathy and the ability to be honest about your perspective and shortcomings make someone an admirable advice columnist.
So what makes a good advice column? What makes an opinion good advice? If you can believe it, I have some advice to give. I hope my credibility comes across through my previous attempts at advice giving and recognition of the problematic history of advice writing in the English language. Here is what I believe are the basic necessities for a well-written advice column:
Number one: An advice column is not timeless. Rather, all advice is timeless. The definition of advice is “an opinion that someone offers you about what you should do or how you should act in a particular situation.” In this case, the advice you give is particular, so it shouldn’t be aimed at fixing all related issues. But at the same time, good advice may be abstracted and applied to other problems by readers. So with that said, even these suggestions are subject to change.
Number two: Everyone in this exchange (the writer, the asker, the third-party reader) is vulnerable. These feelings are exacerbated in a college setting, and not just for men. I find one of the struggles with asking for advice among peers, especially in a competitive college setting, is the fear of seeming weaker or less intelligent than others. When I was writing advice, I did not feel like a queen on a throne directing others below me, but more like a jester agonizing over whether my efforts would please my audience. The advice columnist is not artificial intelligence, or a magician able to create a perfect solution, but a person who should be doing their absolute best to help others. That does not work without the humility to recognize the vulnerability of everyone involved.
Number three: While the writer may be the one responding, the advice column is an invisible community effort. The advice column is nothing if not an exchange within a community. Sharing and learning about our similarities through our anonymity is both crucial and reassuring. I believe the advice column would function best if it didn’t hinge on the authority of the writer, but rather broke down the hierarchies of authority and invited the audience to consider, to agree and to disagree.
I’m happy to see how the advice column was resurfaced at The Daily, and I hold incredible respect for Opinion writers Giselle Mills and Lindsey Zousmer and their several iterations of their respective advice columns. In the Ann Arbor community, I think that the concept of an advice column and advice as an exchange altogether can inspire security and confidence. It will never be a perfect art, and there is much history to recognize as advice is both written and shared. But my hope — albeit an occasionally self-indulgent one — is that advice columns and writing-in resurges in popularity and that they are handled ethically and enthusiastically.
Statement Columnist Elizabeth Wolfe can be reached at eliwolfe@umich.edu.