I lack the cognitive capacity in this moment to articulate just how in awe I am of you, your work, this piece… Last night was a moment and a movement all at once. How privileged I was to be in that room and to share that stage. I look forward to listening to every syllable of this again later, once the children are safely sleeping. Thank you for your talent and your courage to speak that which few of us dare. 🩷🔥😘 PS - that dress… 😍 xx
Lou, I read this slowly, twice. Thank you. Your words held me right where I needed to be held tonight.
Last night felt like more than a reading, for me too. Something broke open and reassembled in that beautiful space. I could feel the impact land in real time, and knowing it touched you, someone whose own work and voice I respect, means more than I can say.
I’m so glad we shared that stage. And I’ll remember your face looking back at me when I needed it. xx
There are things I read (or listen to) sometimes and wonder how someone’s brain could’ve made that kind of magic come out of it — obviously your story here is gripping and bold and confident and naughty in all of the best ways, but the WAY you put the words together to tell it is just unmatched. When you ended with “every fucking Thursday” I feel like I could feel your mischief and your power and I wanted to jump through the roof. Brilliant, per usual 😭💗
Thank you, Violet, what a generous and galvanising message. I’m SO glad the words landed with force and feeling.
Something you said really struck me though. The mention of mischief. Sarina echoed it too.
And I’ve been thinking: I didn’t write this with mischief in me. Not even a trace. There was no wink, no subversive smile behind the lines. It wasn’t crafted to shock or titillate, it was written straight from the gut. With composure, yes. With precision, absolutely. But not mischief. Not a scrap.
And I wonder if that’s part of what we do, as humans, sometimes when we encounter a woman speaking about hunger, or power, or the life she’s designed on her own terms. We sense the electricity of it, and name it playful. Name it bold. Name it cheeky. Maybe it’s a way of softening the heat, or making the edges easier to sit with. Or something else.
But for me, this piece wasn’t mischievous. It was serious, intimate work. It still is. And your reflections mean the world to me. Thank you for reading so closely, and feeling it so fully. Looking forward to our collab ❤️🔥🫶🏼
I love that you provided this insight into how you felt writing this! I love how a reader can take a slightly diverged application of someone else's words, and I do always appreciate hearing the full scope behind the "why" because ultimately, it is about YOU and your words and your lived experiences ❤️
I did not intend to use "mischief" to indicate a softening in any way. It's abundantly clear that you wrote this, and lived this, with confidence and vulnerability and rawness. The mention of mischief for me in that comment after I listened to your story was speaking more to the exploration of your needs and desires outside typical norms and expectations about how a woman, a mother, ought to live her own life; and not that you're being cheeky about it, but that it's purely unexpected (and I love that element of it). I can certainly name it something else, knowing what you wanted the essence of this piece to be about, but would never want you to feel like I didn't take this seriously. Because I absolutely did, and it was written SO well, and I am excited to see how it fits into your memoir overall 🫶🏼
Violet, thank you so much for receiving my response with such grace, and for opening this space to have a deeper exchange. You’ve articulated something I’ve been grappling with ever since I started sharing personal work: that strange line between letting the piece go (knowing readers will bring their own lens), and wanting to protect the core of it from being misnamed.
I didn’t feel snippy when writing back but I did feel protective. And you naming mischief so lovingly gave me a moment to ask myself, “Is that what people might see in this? And if so, what happens to the intent?” Your follow-up helps me feel understood.
It also reminds me that what we see as radical is often wrapped in language that makes it easier to swallow. Sometimes that’s mischief, sometimes it’s ‘cheek,’ sometimes it’s ‘empowerment.’ But underneath, the work is deep. And I’m grateful to you for recognising that.
Your comment, and the care inside it, means a great deal. 🖤
Thank you, Sarina. I really appreciate you tuning into the seriousness and intention behind it all, it means a lot when the undercurrent is felt, not just the surface ripples. X 💋
Thank you, Sarina just added a note to Violet about that very mix. It’s fascinating what we name mischief, isn’t it? I am reflecting on how often I we call something mischief, when it’s actually radical work? so much love winging its way to you 💎
I’m so glad you gave us the speaker warning as I sat in the living room with my dad and my four year old about to hit play!
Whoa, this is sensational, unexpected, audacious, stirring…
I admire your work, you really push the boundaries of what’s ’acceptable’ for a woman and her art, which is so fucking evolutionarily necessary it gives me chills.
Sarina, this is such a ride of a comment and I adore every line.
Thank you for clocking the speaker warning (that could’ve been… memorable 😳).
And thank you even more for naming what I’m trying to do here. Not push boundaries for shock’s sake, but because evolution, as you say, needs women to name what hasn’t been nameable. Your words give me chills.
So much to process, and continue to process and articulate about your piece, which was stunningly well written by the way.
One thing is for sure, without doubt it gave me the most to think about of any of them, and I’m sure will be the one which people will be talking about for the longest time to come. (No pun intended).
It did provoke - whether that was intended or not - and there will be wide ranging views about the subject matter itself. Which I think is fair enough and won’t be a surprise.
In my mind an important function of art is to encourage people to ask difficult questions and be able to explore difficult themes. Your piece did that in spadefuls.
I am thankful we still live in a country where you can speak your truth. There are many women in other countries who would not be able to do so.
Your courage is something many of us would love to have more of. It is something which at my stage of life, and with my hormonal fluctuations as they are, I find frustratingly lacking atm.
There is something magnetic about a powerful woman unafraid to speak out - especially on a controversial subject which people will have mixed views about - and the whole damn audience having to shut up and listen anyway.
How long have women had to shut up and listen to men whether they wanted to or not ? How many of their stories have never been told at all?
Yours won’t be a voice we will be forgetting in a hurry, that is for certain.
Joanna, thank you so much for this deeply considered message. I can feel how seriously you engaged with the piece, and that means a lot. I don’t take for granted how much it asks of people, especially when it unsettles expectations about womanhood, sexuality, or the limits of what we’re “allowed” to say out loud.
I wouldn’t say I wrote it to provoke, it’s memoir, not theatre. It’s my life, not a device. But I did write it to tell the truth as I’ve lived it, and I know that in a culture that prefers its women small, tidy, and contained, that kind of truth can certainly feel confronting.
What I hope, more than anything, is that the questions it raises are ones we’re willing to hold, not for argument’s sake, but for what they might make possible.
I’m so grateful we got to share space as writers and readers on Saturday. That was wonderful! Thank you again for your thoughtfulness.
I've already told you this but I'll say it again, this is gobsmackingly brilliant. Thank you for the vulnerability to bring us this story and these questions, they and you are an inspiration to me.
Ray, thank you for saying it again. You have no idea how steadying that is.
This piece asked something remarkable of me, not only in the writing, but in the reading. I felt the questions rise in the room as I spoke, and it meant everything to know you were there catching them, albeit from afar. Because I did carry you with me...
I admire the way you meet truth in your work, too. The inspiration is mutual. x
I lack the cognitive capacity in this moment to articulate just how in awe I am of you, your work, this piece… Last night was a moment and a movement all at once. How privileged I was to be in that room and to share that stage. I look forward to listening to every syllable of this again later, once the children are safely sleeping. Thank you for your talent and your courage to speak that which few of us dare. 🩷🔥😘 PS - that dress… 😍 xx
Lou, I read this slowly, twice. Thank you. Your words held me right where I needed to be held tonight.
Last night felt like more than a reading, for me too. Something broke open and reassembled in that beautiful space. I could feel the impact land in real time, and knowing it touched you, someone whose own work and voice I respect, means more than I can say.
I’m so glad we shared that stage. And I’ll remember your face looking back at me when I needed it. xx
There are things I read (or listen to) sometimes and wonder how someone’s brain could’ve made that kind of magic come out of it — obviously your story here is gripping and bold and confident and naughty in all of the best ways, but the WAY you put the words together to tell it is just unmatched. When you ended with “every fucking Thursday” I feel like I could feel your mischief and your power and I wanted to jump through the roof. Brilliant, per usual 😭💗
Thank you, Violet, what a generous and galvanising message. I’m SO glad the words landed with force and feeling.
Something you said really struck me though. The mention of mischief. Sarina echoed it too.
And I’ve been thinking: I didn’t write this with mischief in me. Not even a trace. There was no wink, no subversive smile behind the lines. It wasn’t crafted to shock or titillate, it was written straight from the gut. With composure, yes. With precision, absolutely. But not mischief. Not a scrap.
And I wonder if that’s part of what we do, as humans, sometimes when we encounter a woman speaking about hunger, or power, or the life she’s designed on her own terms. We sense the electricity of it, and name it playful. Name it bold. Name it cheeky. Maybe it’s a way of softening the heat, or making the edges easier to sit with. Or something else.
But for me, this piece wasn’t mischievous. It was serious, intimate work. It still is. And your reflections mean the world to me. Thank you for reading so closely, and feeling it so fully. Looking forward to our collab ❤️🔥🫶🏼
I love that you provided this insight into how you felt writing this! I love how a reader can take a slightly diverged application of someone else's words, and I do always appreciate hearing the full scope behind the "why" because ultimately, it is about YOU and your words and your lived experiences ❤️
I did not intend to use "mischief" to indicate a softening in any way. It's abundantly clear that you wrote this, and lived this, with confidence and vulnerability and rawness. The mention of mischief for me in that comment after I listened to your story was speaking more to the exploration of your needs and desires outside typical norms and expectations about how a woman, a mother, ought to live her own life; and not that you're being cheeky about it, but that it's purely unexpected (and I love that element of it). I can certainly name it something else, knowing what you wanted the essence of this piece to be about, but would never want you to feel like I didn't take this seriously. Because I absolutely did, and it was written SO well, and I am excited to see how it fits into your memoir overall 🫶🏼
Violet, thank you so much for receiving my response with such grace, and for opening this space to have a deeper exchange. You’ve articulated something I’ve been grappling with ever since I started sharing personal work: that strange line between letting the piece go (knowing readers will bring their own lens), and wanting to protect the core of it from being misnamed.
I didn’t feel snippy when writing back but I did feel protective. And you naming mischief so lovingly gave me a moment to ask myself, “Is that what people might see in this? And if so, what happens to the intent?” Your follow-up helps me feel understood.
It also reminds me that what we see as radical is often wrapped in language that makes it easier to swallow. Sometimes that’s mischief, sometimes it’s ‘cheek,’ sometimes it’s ‘empowerment.’ But underneath, the work is deep. And I’m grateful to you for recognising that.
Your comment, and the care inside it, means a great deal. 🖤
Mmm, I totally hear you on the sincerity behind the scene, the intentions and also behind the art of it all. X
Thank you, Sarina. I really appreciate you tuning into the seriousness and intention behind it all, it means a lot when the undercurrent is felt, not just the surface ripples. X 💋
💜❤️
Mischief and power - yes!
Thank you, Sarina just added a note to Violet about that very mix. It’s fascinating what we name mischief, isn’t it? I am reflecting on how often I we call something mischief, when it’s actually radical work? so much love winging its way to you 💎
I’m so glad you gave us the speaker warning as I sat in the living room with my dad and my four year old about to hit play!
Whoa, this is sensational, unexpected, audacious, stirring…
I admire your work, you really push the boundaries of what’s ’acceptable’ for a woman and her art, which is so fucking evolutionarily necessary it gives me chills.
Sarina, this is such a ride of a comment and I adore every line.
Thank you for clocking the speaker warning (that could’ve been… memorable 😳).
And thank you even more for naming what I’m trying to do here. Not push boundaries for shock’s sake, but because evolution, as you say, needs women to name what hasn’t been nameable. Your words give me chills.
I’m so glad you’re here for it. Much love.
💜
You’ve disappeared from my “algorithm” so I will engage more so you reappear!!
Lovely to see you Isabelle 💖 sending love
So much to process, and continue to process and articulate about your piece, which was stunningly well written by the way.
One thing is for sure, without doubt it gave me the most to think about of any of them, and I’m sure will be the one which people will be talking about for the longest time to come. (No pun intended).
It did provoke - whether that was intended or not - and there will be wide ranging views about the subject matter itself. Which I think is fair enough and won’t be a surprise.
In my mind an important function of art is to encourage people to ask difficult questions and be able to explore difficult themes. Your piece did that in spadefuls.
I am thankful we still live in a country where you can speak your truth. There are many women in other countries who would not be able to do so.
Your courage is something many of us would love to have more of. It is something which at my stage of life, and with my hormonal fluctuations as they are, I find frustratingly lacking atm.
There is something magnetic about a powerful woman unafraid to speak out - especially on a controversial subject which people will have mixed views about - and the whole damn audience having to shut up and listen anyway.
How long have women had to shut up and listen to men whether they wanted to or not ? How many of their stories have never been told at all?
Yours won’t be a voice we will be forgetting in a hurry, that is for certain.
Joanna, thank you so much for this deeply considered message. I can feel how seriously you engaged with the piece, and that means a lot. I don’t take for granted how much it asks of people, especially when it unsettles expectations about womanhood, sexuality, or the limits of what we’re “allowed” to say out loud.
I wouldn’t say I wrote it to provoke, it’s memoir, not theatre. It’s my life, not a device. But I did write it to tell the truth as I’ve lived it, and I know that in a culture that prefers its women small, tidy, and contained, that kind of truth can certainly feel confronting.
What I hope, more than anything, is that the questions it raises are ones we’re willing to hold, not for argument’s sake, but for what they might make possible.
I’m so grateful we got to share space as writers and readers on Saturday. That was wonderful! Thank you again for your thoughtfulness.
Warmly,
Danusia
I've already told you this but I'll say it again, this is gobsmackingly brilliant. Thank you for the vulnerability to bring us this story and these questions, they and you are an inspiration to me.
Ray, thank you for saying it again. You have no idea how steadying that is.
This piece asked something remarkable of me, not only in the writing, but in the reading. I felt the questions rise in the room as I spoke, and it meant everything to know you were there catching them, albeit from afar. Because I did carry you with me...
I admire the way you meet truth in your work, too. The inspiration is mutual. x
So many fascinating and important questions… and the reading last night was amazing.
Thank you, Steph! That means a lot.
I keep thinking about how rare it is to be in a room where questions like these are allowed to hang in the air without needing neat answers.
I’m so glad you were there 💖
Wonderful. I too would like Thursdays.
Liza, thank you!
May your Thursdays, whatever shape they take, be utterly yours.
(And may they come with excellent tea and even better conversation.) 😉