Issue 27: The Women Who Carry Us Through War
Plus: an unforgettable Oscar flick + more
Photo by Lynsey Addario for The New York Times
Worth Considering: The Women Who Carry Us Through War
On the left-hand side of an image from The New York Times I spied a small, wooden stool. It wouldn’t have caught my eye if not for its strange location: a subway station in Kyiv, Ukraine. Beneath the stool, several layers of winter blankets; across from it, a row of shoes—enough pairs for a family of six—lined up in front of a two-person tent. Here, a small village of women had formed, curled up beneath a crumbling city, desperate to save their babies’ lives.
Despite the many dozens of photos I’ve seen of the Russia-Ukraine war scattered across the internet, it’s this subway series that is seared in my mind. I come back to it often, or rather it comes back to me. The oligarchs, the corrupt politicians, the cowardly men in Russian fatigues are ghoulish phantoms in my mind—they tell a story of brutishness and barbarianism that only the most grotesque of minds could invent. The women of the war are my truest connection to the realities of this far-away tragedy; they are its heartbeat.
I take a second, third, tenth glance at the photos to unearth a new detail, both real and imagined. A tattered yellow backpack. A frayed teddy bear. A taped-together children’s book—the tome chosen from a sizeable collection that had to be left behind, the pages to be read and reread until the words no longer conjure a fairytale but the memory of fearful flight.
I feel the women’s peaks and valleys of emotion—primal fear, fleeting hope, feigned bravery. I envision the tears that fall when they turn their heads away for just an instant, sobs released silently in public bathroom stalls, pain seeping under rusted doors from one mother to the next, an invisible quilt of shared despair.
When I close my eyes, I watch them perform the everyday tasks of motherhood: preparing snacks, calming tantrums, dressing and undressing little bodies, tucking in and snuggling goodnight. Embraces so tight you can’t decipher where the mother ends and the child begins. The repeating of newfound mantras to convince themselves as much as their children: we will make it through this.
As I turn their stories over in my head, I realize something miraculous: we are watching legacies unfold in real time. The woman who transported a stranger’s children over the Ukrainian border to be returned to the safety of their mother’s arms. The nurses swaddling minutes-old infants, carrying them gingerly to a makeshift NICU in the bomb shelter below ground. The hundreds of thousands of mothers with their children curled beneath down coats, nestled under their chins and on their laps and in their arms. We are bearing witness to an army of heroes who are fighting to save the loves of their lives, the innocents, our future.
To say that the courage with which these women fight is providing me solace or hope feels grossly self-serving. The layers of their bravery and selflessness are deeply complex, nuanced beyond my comprehension. But maybe, in some small way, it would comfort them to know their pain is not in vain. Their fortitude is not unrecognized. Their cries are not unheard. Their faces are not unseen.
Surely, these women will be footnotes in the history books. Many men will be remembered for their tenacity, their boldness, their grit—and deservedly so. Others for their brutality, their narcissism, their willful allegiance to an ugly regime—much less deservedly. But not these women. They will be mostly forgotten, like the many women who endured battles before them—those who shepherded their communities through world wars and those who fought school boards when they were told their babies were less than because of the color of their skin. Like her and her and her.
So, let us be the memory-keepers of the mothers and grandmothers and aunts and sisters who hold the hands of a generation as they walk towards an unexpected future; a future unknown but safe and full of love because of the women who walk beside them. Let us carry their light within us when we, inevitably, face our own darkness. Let us know courage because they have proved its existence. Let us proclaim their legacies at the top of our proud and rageful lungs.
Worth Watching: CODA (Apple+)
Academy Awards season is upon us! Back when I was a footloose-and-fancy-free 20-something living in New York City (read: no children and somehow never got hungover), I would host Oscar viewing parties. There was a dress code! There were champagne cocktails! There was a photo booth! These days it’s donning pajamas on the couch at my sister’s house, but it’s still one of my favorite Sundays of the year.
Which brings me to this gem of a movie—nominated in three categories—about a deaf family and their hearing daughter, who finds her passion in, of all things, singing. It has a formulaic plotline (teenager distances from her family in order to find herself, plus a very predictable young-love romance) but between the beautiful acting, the incredible chemistry amongst the cast, and a perfectly-written script, it becomes a truly unforgettable film. (Don’t forget the Kleenex.)
Worth Wallpapering: MHN’s Monthly Affirmation Calendar
I very much enjoy all things low-effort/high-reward, and this very much fell into that category! Morgan Harper Nichols created a wallpaper graphic for your phone with an affirmation for each day of March. Fun! Today’s is “I belong here as much as anyone else” which, on newsletter send day where I feel like I absolutely do not belong here as much as anyone else, is the exact vibe I need. Download it here!
Worth Calling: 707-998-8410
Just trust me on this one. Your day is about to get a whole lot better. (If you get a busy signal, try again a couple minutes later!)
Worth Quoting: Mohsin Hamid, novelist + writer
“Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself.”
Worth Noting: This Week’s Honorable Mentions
Cheeky notepads to make grocery shopping a little less mundane. (Dear Annabelle)
Very excited for Pixar’s newest flick, Turning Red, out on March 11.
Low key obsessed with Blair Breitenstein’s illustrations. So fun.
Granola scones? Absolutely. (Bon Appetit)
Always and forever looking for a well-executed book recommendation engine. (Folio)
Renting baby shit > owning baby shit. (Loop Baby)
I tried very very hard to find a chic stick lighter for candles and failed miserably. Buying a bundle of vintage matchbooks feels like the right next move. (Etsy)