A Good Woman
There is only Good Woman, anything other than good is a failing grade. Bad Woman.
Hi folks! I wanted to share the essay that was shortlisted for the Grit Lit awards this year. I knew I’d wanted to publishing eventually on substack but the love from last weeks essay (despite it being about…not love? lol) means a lot.
I am choosing to paywall this essay and paywalling more of my work here moving forward. I don’t know what the schedule or pace of that is yet, but it’s a gut check. Something that allows me to be able to write freely, knowing there is a container of actual reader not just the potential for some random to roll by a post and lemme know their feels about my life. Also I believe in paying artist for their work, and offering folks the opportunity to support me feels very in line with my values. 🫶
That button gets you a full membership for the next year for the cost of $8.80 CAD ( $6.40 USD) a month. AKA almost the cost of a cup of coffee (lmao recession 🫠, *cries in Canadian* etc etc) or less if you sign up for a year. You get the audio version of all posts, free tickets to the open studios I occasionally host here ,and the comment section. 🌸
Also a quick shout out, because nothing is made in a vacuum and reading the acknowledgements of any book makes me cry so 🫶. Part of this essay was born in
workshop, with some shaping and molding from . Thank you both for your time, brains and artistry.Ok! On with the show 💃🏻
There are Good Women. Good Women wear dresses and tied bows. Good Women sip from a straw and never chug from the bottle. Good Women smile and nod and blush and wear just enough lipstick. Good Women are small, but not too thin. Strong, but not too big.Good Women twirl when they dance and step lightly on floorboards. Good Women can melt in your mouth. You can pop them back behind your molars and forget you even consumed them, they go down easy and wash away with a glass of whole milk.
There is only Good Woman, anything other than good is a failing grade. Bad Woman. I am not a Good Woman. I don’t know how to be a Good Woman.
I wasn’t born on this earth. I was sent down. My space ship forgot me here, abandoned me, or some other tragic tale to explain my situation. The seams pull tightly along my human suit, hinting at something terrifying beneath my styled exterior. The uncanny valley of puppeteering a woman just trying to be good. Studying to be good. To learn the rules and operate the human suit as a Good Woman.