It is surreal to be writing this post. I’ve longed for this space and dreamed for this space since we created the domain, the female collective, years ago. But instead of jumping right into what I initially thought this space could be, I did something foreign to my ‘point, shoot, aim’ personality: I waited. This idea needed time to simmer, like a sauce in a hot pan, allowing the flavors to meld and transform. Or like a wine that needs time to age, and mature and then breath. I needed time to age. Not so much in numbers, although that is inevitable, but in heart and spirit. I needed to try and fail; to break and put back together. I needed to mull and expand. I needed to solidify some things that I believe to be true about myself and who I am built to be. And as I grew, consequently, so did my passion and vision for this space. I by no means have reached my peak potential (if that exists), but I feel ready to start this process of vulnerability and boldness, in hopes to build something lasting and helpful. Something bigger than just me.
I’ve always been a writer. And a talker for that matter. Actually, most of you reading this who know me are much more aware of my ability to talk, rather than write. But I’ve always done both … so I suppose it is safe to say I love communicating.
Writing has been a part of me since I was a little girl. We had a ‘book publishing’ room in the library at my elementary school. We would take our stories and poems, and bind them together by hand. I loved every part of the process. The hand writing, the choosing of what textile (old wall paper samples) would best represent my story or poem, and then binding it by pulling down on the large lever of the press machine. It was all so important to me. In the second grade, in Mrs. Monroe’s classroom, I remember learning to write cursive letters and thinking how exciting it was that my poems and stories were going to look as beautiful as they felt, to me. I wrote a poem about autumn, and the color of the leaves, and I specifically chose a dark brown and orange and yellow wallpaper sample to house and protect the pages of my poem.
And for some reason, all of this stuck with me.
Now in my late twenties, I still love writing, and communicating. A big part of it is my love for words. I love how they look on paper, or screen. I love crafting them together like a puzzle or a painting. I love the power they have, the weight of them. I love how just a handful of words can change someone or something. They have the power to move and shift and make and break. Although I am a talker who freely shares my words often, I do not take them lightly. I know what they mean, and if they float out of me too fast, I make sure to go back and apologize and clarify. I know words have power, and I treasure the gift that it is to communicate.
So that is what this space is for: communicating. The Female Collective is not a mom blog, although I will talk often about motherhood. It is not a feminist blog, although I will talk often about the whoas of being a woman and balancing work/baby/life. It is not a design blog, although I will share creative ventures because they are a part of who I am. The Female Collective is simply a place to share about the journey of being a woman and the challenges and joys we all face. I believe so deeply in the connectedness of women and even though we all walk our lives out differently, there is a thread that connects us all … I hope to weave that thread into each of our hearts here and provide a place for us to gather.
Thank you for joining me on this journey. I cannot wait to see what happens.
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