What Do Women Hold?
balloon, grudges and heavy loads
The first time I heard the words below, by Maira Kalman, I was scrolling through TikTok in early December, completely uninspired and utterly overwhelmed by the holiday spirit. Her words felt profound, and I purchased her book, Women Holding Things, immediately. The book features paintings done by the author, beautiful depictions of the many things women carry. The recited words below are from a much longer TedTalk, which is equally profound, but the weight of her question — what do women hold? — left me thinking, somehow coming up with a million different answers and equally as speechless.
On Women Holding Things
By Maira Kalman
One day at a farmer’s market, I saw a woman carrying an absolutely gigantic cabbage. When I asked to photograph her, she looked really annoyed. And for some reason, I was so delighted by her crankiness. It seemed so authentic and true. Let’s just say what we feel.
It made me think of all the things women hold, literally and metaphorically.
Balloons and grudges
and heavy loads
and cabbages
and stupendous love and courage
and a pink ukulele under a cherry tree.
And from this a book was formed: Women Holding Things
What do women hold?
The home and the family and the children and the food.
The friendships.
The work.
The work of the world
and the work of being human.
The memories
and the troubles
and the sorrows
and the triumphs
and the love.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly happy or content, I think I can provide sustenance for legions of human beings. I can hold the entire world in my arms.
Other times, I can barely cross the room, and I drop my arms, frozen.
There is never an end to holding.
And certainly there is often the feeling of never doing enough.
And then there is the next day, and the next day.
And one holds on.
Oof, right?! The question is an incredible journal prompt: What do you hold?
Below is my answer — I’d love to read yours (leave it in the comment section <3).
What Do You Hold?
I hold my dog’s paws and a whole world of fears inside my heart.
I hold my cat’s purrs on my belly and a womb that held three children.
I hold my daughter’s nightmares and her joy for puddles, rainbows, and fairies.
I hold wooden spoons and my husband’s worries about his belly.
I hold my best friend’s history while she gently holds my memory.
I hold my grandmother’s jewelry and every secret in my family tree.
What do women hold?
Women hold dreams and guilt,
And the answers for everything (while doubting each one).
Women hold their father’s rage and their mother’s pain
And the softness and sheer force of this earth.
What do women hold?
Women hold the stories of the world,
And the world in their wombs.
the impact of Kalman’s words are clearly in the zeitgeist cause I found this visual embodiment of “what women hold” as I was scrolling through Instagram yesterday — so, so sweet and all the things <3
I hold the grief of my health, the inconsistencies of my body (it's never something I can count on).
I hold my favorite coffee mug, the most normal part of my day before it inevitably spins out of control.
I hold my giant mason jar of water.
I hold the stories from my childhood, my youth, that don't ever feel as distant as I'd like them to be.
I hold my secrets, and the ones I want to bury.
I hold versions of another life, in the city, in the country, in the old red barn with the man wearing the silver necklace.
I hold this life, in the sun, in the heat, in the humidity and horrors of the south.
I hold the sand, the saltwater, the feeling that everything really will be okay.
I hold my son's hand as he pulls me around the house. I hold the book he wants me to read.
I hold my best friend's sanity, her calm in the storm of motherhood.
I hold my mother's hopes and dreams. I hold the life she dreamt of having and never had (I am the mother she never had).
I hold my father's doubts and anxieties. I hold his deep breaths so he can come back to life.
I hold onto my husband's waist, wrapping my arms around him so tight. I hold onto a life with him I don't think I deserve.
I hold myself, as often as I can bring myself to. I hold on so hard—don't let go.
I hold my heavy heart, knowing that tomorrow there will be a new beginning.
I hold my baby girl under my arm while she naps and my phone in the other to type this out
I hold in my pee so she can sleep a little while longer (tmi sorry not sorry).
I hold my husband's stress over finding a job and my own longing for stability.
I hold my maiden self tenderly while she slowly disappears in the rear view mirror.
I hold my sweet cat who also grieves for that silent home before babe.
I hold my mama friends who are with me in this new season of life.
I hold anxiety, fatigue, sore muscles and aches, and I hold peace, patience and a love for this little soul like I've never felt before.
*I really enjoyed today's letter, thank you Alex ❤️