As this poem more than hints at, Emily Dickinson was perceived as something of an eccentric by her local community in Amherst. Though she came from a family of wealth and good standing, some of her actions drew the attention of town onlookers. This poem—in certain regards more than any other in her body of work—often sounds like an attempt to at least partially explain some of these aspects of herself to the outside world. However, a closer look at her biography sheds additional light on some of her choices and decisions.
By 1867, Dickinson began to draw away from her social milieu. This behavior has been attributed to various sources. It was around this time that the Dickinsons lost their longtime domestic servant Margaret O'Brien, after she married and subsequently moved away. This change resulted in Dickinson being responsible for all of the work in the kitchen that had previously been O'Brien's. Dickinson also suffered the loss of her cherished canine companion Carlo, who had been with her for sixteen years. Concurrent to these events, and perhaps because of them, Dickinson's literary output dropped significantly during this period. It is not difficult to imagine how this increase in her responsibility, as well as these various departures in the house, would alter her ability to write.
Dickinson became noted by the local population for what they perceived to be her peculiarities. She left the house on very few occasions, but when she did she frequently wore a simple, white cotton dress. Even Dickinson's closest friends primarily spoke with her through written correspondence or conversed with her behind the barrier of a closed door. Dickinson's older brother Austin took care to protect her during this time, attempting to shield her from local gossip (of which, this poem makes plain, she was well aware). She was also known for maintaining an extensive garden and keeping an orderly collection of pressed flowers. While contemporary readers might find this portrait only slightly offbeat, the judgment at the time was much more severe. She was looked on as something of a local curiosity.
While the poem "This is my letter to the World" predates these events by a few years, it is difficult not to have the distinct sense that Dickinson was writing very openly about herself. Conscious of how she was perceived by those around her, the poem feels like a justification and explication of who she is, written in the hope that this world will finally come to some (even partial) understanding of her. If these later events point to anything about the poem, it is that Dickinson wouldn't change herself to meet expectations, but that she still desired some degree of comfort or acceptance.
