I recently read Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, and I absolutely loved it. It’s a gruesome book showing the ugly side of femininity from every angle imaginable. Mothers hate their daughters, sisters bury their sisters, and little girls turn up dead in the street. If you’re planning on reading it, I’d look up a list of trigger warnings first.

I have a fascination with the grotesque side of femininity—maybe that’s why I liked Sharp Objects so much. Being a woman can be beautiful. It can be pure and joyful and almost divine. It also can be the opposite, and it’s important for me to honor both of those sides. Being a woman can be vicious, bloody, vengeful. Both of these things can be true. A lullaby comes from the same throat as a scream.

Finding the balance between the two—the beauty and the horror—is key. At least for me, I’m at the most peace with my womanhood when I can acknowledge both sides. There’s been a recent cultural fascination with female rage, and I’m in full support of it. I saw Immaculate. I listen to Ethel Cain. I love art that explores women’s anger and how it manifests, because it’s different from how a man handles anger.

Still, it’s equally important to create and share art about female joy. Let women scream until their throats are raw, but let them laugh until they cry as well. Focusing too much on either side minimizes the depths of womanhood.

A lot of experiences are horrific and wonderful at the same time. How else could we trust them? Something with no flaws isn’t honest, just like something with no virtues isn’t. The most real and meaningful experiences are anything but black and white.

I cut eight inches of my hair off a couple of days ago, and it felt like severing myself in half. I know it’s dramatic, but hair is such a crucial part of my identity. I took pride in how long it was. When the strands fell to the tiles in clumps, it didn’t feel like a fun new haircut. It was emptying, and I couldn’t decide if I loathed or loved the change.

Change, like womanhood, is a fickle thing. It’s equal parts terrifying and gratifying. It’s horrible and dizzying. It’s essential and incredible.

Every experience I have is tinged with blues and pinks. The tears and the laughter, the ocean and the sky. Sometimes I ask myself if I’m a happy person, and I can’t come up with a certain answer.

I don’t know what it means to be a happy person. I search for joy in everything, and I usually find it. I find other things too, like fear and rage. Everything exists at the same time and I feel it all. For me, that’s what being a woman is.

i feel like it’s been a while since i posted, but really it hasn’t. life is still crazy. i start college next week! scary and wonderful. autumn is almost here, and i’m ready for it. i hope this piece finds you well, and thank you for reading. i feel your support always. if you resonated with any of my words, let me know! if you’d like to support me and my future work, consider sharing, commenting, subscribing, or supporting me on ko-fi. love you all.

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until next time,

grace <3