"Vulnerability is the antidote to shame"
Galentine's + Raising $4300 for Planned Parenthood
A little over a year ago, I tried to find words to contain all my grief after a painful breakup. Like nailing down my feelings with words would also excise them from my body. I spoke of grief specifically, of how it made me feel dirty like I’d been soiled, and of how the only way out was through. I also spoke of shame.
I think shame is one of the major themes of my life—which sounds depressing except that I have my shame to thank for the parts of me I most respect.
In that post-breakup piece I wrote:
Shame has led me to this newsletter, to writing. I like that I can take my ugliest thoughts and dismantle them. I can break them down and study them like a scientist holding petri dishes. I can understand them through editing and rewriting, asking myself, “Ok, but what are you really trying to say?” And then, “How can you say it better?” When I do this, all of those messes become something new.1
When I explain to people why I’m such an open book I always say that I feel more comfortable with my secrets being out in the open. I’m reminded of what Maggie Rogers said about vulnerability:
Throughout my life I’ve thought of vulnerability as a shield. My logic goes something like—if I tell you my whole truth, everything I’m feeling, then there’s no ammo left for you to hurt me. It’s been my default defense mechanism for as long as I can remember. I was the kid in the second grade telling everyone who I had a crush on instead of trying to keep it a secret.
I felt this most sharply earlier last fall, days before the election, when I published this piece about my abortion. The moment I hit “Send” on Substack I felt myself get light headed and my stomach drop. I went for a long walk to get a matcha and avoid checking my phone. And then, I felt a million bricks lighter. Finally I didn’t feel like I was tending to a secret. I didn’t feel like I had to protect anyone else. I didn’t feel like I could only whisper about the thing that had consumed my thoughts for months. I didn’t feel like I had to pretend I was ashamed for something I knew I didn’t do on my own.
A few months earlier I remember eating udon with my friend Brendan when he reminded me, Vulnerability is the antidote to shame. Brendan is so effortlessly hilarious it knocks the wind out of me when he is also effortlessly wise.
I had often thought of vulnerability and writing as my shields, but I thought more about what Brendan said and realized they aren’t just my defense mechanisms. They’re my solutions.
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Last Thursday, the day before Valentine’s Day (AKA my favorite holiday), one of my best most precious friends, Sarah, and I hosted a Gals & Pals fundraiser in support of Planned Parenthood.
I think I’ve only begun to graze the surface of processing how special it was. Sarah and I are both nuts for Valentine’s Day, friendship, and reproductive rights. When I found out I was pregnant, Sarah was the one who brought the test over, and when I woke up in the hospital from my emergency abortion it was her smiling face I saw five inches from mine.
A few weeks ago I told her about this idea I had for a Galentine’s party with a raffle that would raise money for Planned Parenthood. I’d waited too long though and didn’t have time to make it happen. Sarah instantly told me that we would figure it out together—which is pretty much what she said to me when I found out I was pregnant.
No matter what crisis I’ve faced, it’s always been my friends who show up no questions asked.
On Thursday so many of our friends, and people we’d never met before, gathered in their chicest cocktail attire to support Planned Parenthood. We called in favors everywhere we could and the end result was a beautiful testament to friendship and how eager people are to support each other. So many female-founded brands donated to our raffle. Julia created the sexiest floral arrangements (we told her the vision was Nosferatu Valentine’s), Kendra connected us with Radio Star who donated us the gorgeous venue, Rachel made us the spookiest gorgeous cake, Sam brought all of our creative visions to life, and Lewis spent one of his last evenings in New York capturing the whole thing.
I’m so proud to say that, with 90 of our friends, we raised $4300 for Planned Parenthood. I’ve never been more honored or proud.
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Before the raffle, I told the room how personal the evening felt and I shared that I myself had a life-saving abortion. So many people came up to me and kindly told me I was brave. My response, first and foremost, is that I am extremely privileged that I feel safe to share that information. I’m lucky that I don’t have a family who won’t support me, that I live in a place where abortion is mostly supported, and that I have an incredible community.
Second to my privilege is the fact that talking about it makes me feel better. When I bring it up, it’s my way of reminding myself and other’s that what I experienced shouldn’t be stigmatized. It should be considered with grace and humanity. And I hope that other people who have gone through similar situations will feel less alone or ashamed too.
I used to feel like this whole abortion experience was some sad scary thing between me and the man who knocked me up. And then, when we broke up, I felt my grief double in size. But planning this fundraiser and seeing so many people eager to support reproductive rights made the whole thing less about me.
Valentine’s Day is often regarded as a day to spread love. But I think sometimes we need hope more than we need love. I have felt loved on many past Valentine’s Days but for the first time I also felt hopeful.
All photos by the talented Lewis Warner.
Quoting yourself is cringe but I’m so tired I couldn’t think of a workaround. I’m sorry.
Aisha, this tears brought tears to my little eyes while at the office! Thank you for sharing your heart and voice with the world!
Nothing cringe about quoting yourself because you have important things to say! I love you!