ISSUE 2. October 15th, 2021
Even the strongest blizzards start with a single snowflake.
I didn’t write that. A woman named Sara Raasch did. I don’t know who Sara is or what she does. But damn, do Sara's words speak volumes to what Snowflake - this newsletter - is attempting to do.
See, each week I’m gonna say my truth. I’m going to say it loudly, plainly, clearly, unapologetically. Every week. Over and over and over again until you hear me.
Not intellectually process it. Not professionally take it in. You’re going to feel each word - in the pit of your stomach as your mind turns over the issues spoken of here. That feeling is going to work its way up into your lungs, and your lungs are going to feel heavier and heavier as a consciousness you never knew you were contemplating before, builds inside of you.
Thoughts you always held somewhere deep down but maybe, the words on this page reignited their remembrance within you. Of things you wanted from this life that have long been taken, or stolen, or smudged out. Losses, that in order to survive, you told yourself weren’t important, didn’t count, you didn’t mind not having.
Then, you’ll feel a tightness in your throat. Like something is caught, festering at the back of your mouth, crawling to get out. You’ll drink water. Chew on a cough drop. Go to the doctor. See if you’re getting sick.
I’m feeling things, Doc, you’ll say.
Everything is fine, the doctor will respond (after they ask you when you’ve had your last period).
You’ll leave wondering why you could feel all these things if you're perfectly healthy. But you won’t say this out loud, of course. Not yet.
The world will keep spinning. I’ll keep writing and you’ll keep reading. We’ll do this for weeks, maybe months, maybe years. Like a dance.
Each Snowflake I send you will be filled not only with my voice but the voices of other women. Women who have fought things you’ll never experience and women who have told a variation of your story in their own words. You'll see how snow falls from the mouths of different women, how each crystal is similar but different. How important each story is to your soul.
Each week, you’ll read a new story. Each week, you’ll feel something inside you grow, but what is it? What is that constant, nagging feeling? You’ll drink more water.
Then one day, totally unexpectedly, you’ll hear words echoing around you.
Who said that? Where are you?
You’ll search and you’ll search until you find the sound coming from a mirror and the face in the reflection staring out is you. It's you. You’re the one saying the words.
That’s your voice. Your voice is saying things. It will start to say more things. Not only to yourself but to other people. Your voice will start to question, not only in your subconscious or at your doctors office or as you fall asleep or even out loud to yourself as you fumble the keys into the ignition after a day at the office with the mediocre white men who surround you but also at the next board meeting. At church. To your child’s teacher. To a friend. To your partner.
At first, your voice will feel unfamiliar and strange. The sounds that come out of it and the thoughts that slither through will be sometimes incoherent, messy, imperfect. You’ll keep talking anyway. They’ll start to make more sense. You’ll see the ah-ha moment in other people’s eyes when you take a stance – a hard stance, a subversive stance, a challenging stance – on a topic they haven’t yet found their voice within. Your voice will help give them a voice. A messy, unfiltered, questioning voice that will start to grow.
You’ll enjoy watching your voice spark lightening in someone else’s eyes. You’ll begin to realize that this is what your voice sounds like in this world when it takes up space. This is what your voice feels like when it’s at its most powerful. This is what your voice does when it's free.
Your voice is uninhibited. It will find new spaces. Maybe on social media. Maybe in this newsletter. Maybe in your own newsletter. Maybe in an essay you write for no one but yourself. Or a book you publish for everyone to read. Maybe your voice will appear in the conversations you have with your children or the way you stand up for yourself in your relationship, your job, your family, your community. Maybe your voice will stand up for others. Maybe your voice will start a movement. A company. A service. A new way of being.
Congrats. You’ve just dropped a snowflake. You’ve been dropping several snowflakes, in fact, this entire time.
Your snowflakes are part of a storm that has been building up inside the lungs of women everywhere. First drifting, pouring, then hailing down. The timing of each snowflake may vary but rest assured, it’s happening.
One voice. Ten voices. Ten thousand voices. Ten million. Building into something more powerful than any of us could have known the first time we recognized our truths, our emotions, our questions, our joys, our pains...our snowflakes...and shared them out loud.
Welcome to the storm.