Katie Steedly’s first-person piece [The Unspeakable Gift] is a riveting retelling of her participation in a National Institutes of Health study that aided her quest to come to grips with her life of living with a rare genetic disorder. Her writing is superb.
In recognition of receiving the Dateline Award for the Washingtonian Magazine essay, The Unspeakable Gift.
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Weekly Wide-Awake #7

You are enough.
The Mother’s Day message at church was “You are enough.” (Thank you Rev. Candace Rowell.) I let that dance in my mind. I let that wash over me. I let it settle into my bones. I often move between feeling less than or too much, falling apart and back together, anxious and exhausted, the I am and the not yet. On Mother’s Day, when I often feel left out of the conversation, words that affirmed the essence of my being as enough made my heart sing. On Mother’s Day, when the word “mother” — and what “mother” means to each of us, and it means different things to each of us — is on our lips. On Mother’s Day, when mothering of all sorts must be highlighted and lifted up as the vital work of life itself, the power-exploding thought that we are enough allowed the day to include me in a new way.
Being enough does not generally happen on Mother’s Day. Mostly, it is a day that affirms traditional gender roles and definitions and expectations that often leave me less than — less woman, less she-has-her-shit-together, less normal, less whole. (Cue the family holiday letters, pictures of first-days-of school, proms, weddings, grand babies, etc. that run on a loop in my mind’s feed.) Mother’s Day is often a reminder that being all the things is great but it does not by the traditional definition make me a mom.
As Wife, Stepmother, Aunt, Daughter, Sister, Niece, Friend, and Community Member, mothering means so many different things. I was diagnosed with Turner syndrome at the age of 15. (That meant I did not have functioning ovaries and giving birth would be complicated, at best.) The diagnosis made me look at mothering — and how I would be a mother in this world — in a completely different light. I have grieved traditional motherhood. I have felt the deep loss and tried to convince myself that it was no big deal. I have realized what my life has included — though I have not given birth —has been pretty full and great, too. On most days, I understand traditional motherhood to include contexts and contours and complexity that require a soft and open heart. I am evolving.
Being enough has deep meaning. Being enough means I am not broken. I am whole. Being enough means I can love just as deeply and completely as anyone. (There is no love contest when we are all enough.) Being enough means our paths to mothering — and as mothers — are unique, beautiful, and enough, too. Being enough affirms that our choices — with all their messiness and meaning and star dust and scar tissue — are our own, and in that, we are enough.
MONDAYS ARE FREE 041 — 045
Love. Exaggeration. Structure. Slowing Down. Knowing.
EXERCISE 042: ON BOLD EXAGGERATION
till the ocean is folded
A common expression is, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. Put another emotion or attribute in that sentence. “I’m so happy I could…”; “I’m so short I could…”; “I’m so stinky I could…” With one substitution, generate an elaborate list of all the things this quality makes you able to do.
I’m so excited I could forget to wear clothes. I’m so happy I could kiss the sky. I’m so angry I could spit tacks. I cry so much rivers have tributaries in my name. I am so stinky perfume begs to find my wrist. I am so sad my tears already found tissues. I am so organized my plans make plans. I am so smart my curiosity is bored. I am so optimistic my glass is always full. I am so motivated I sleep with my shoes on. Spring is so beautiful impermanence feels impossible. Morning is so hopeful daylight is a fortress. My bed is so soft I forget I am sleeping. I love so hard my heart bursts.
Spit and Spaghetti #3
Atlanta is the perfect frame for a feature about art as resistance. Whether a mural communicating an important message, a sculpture raising awareness about an endangered species, or a work commemorating civil rights, Beltline art tells a story of collective strength. Art as resistance is ideas, information, and messages that reach people and change hearts. Art as resistance is a language that speaks to issues, injustices, and challenges as only art can. Art as resistance is social proof that most people want to live in a world of creativity, justice, and peace.
This feature will ask readers to look around, wherever they live, and pay attention. Pay attention to where creativity is resisting fear, hate, and injustice. Pay attention to the creators and builders who are resistance champions. Their resistance is vital. Be a creator or builder and/or support those who create and build in whatever way you can. Resistance always builds and creates. If, as Maxine Greene suggests, imagination makes empathy possible, lets imagine a better world into existence. We have a role.
Taking A Walk #10
Taking a walk on Mother’s Day
I am grateful for mothering love that knows cherishing, comforting, holding space, healing, and believing in. The love that has taught me I am whole and more than enough. The love that has taught me joy in another’s success, faith when the world is a mess, virtue in curiosity and kindness, and bear-like loyalty. The love that knows in the very marrow of our bones that love is bigger than gender and biology. The love that is the very lifeblood of what it means to be human That is the love I celebrate.
Celebrating Mothers Day is difficult. My own understanding of mothers and mothering love has deepened over the years. I have arrived at what I understand as my mothering truth. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is relentless forgiveness. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is a love of tradition and ritual. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is a respect for story as something that connects and makes compassion possible. Somewhere nestled in my mothering truth is love for other people’s children as if they are my own. My mothering truth also holds our earth in a loving embrace. That is mothering, too. When I think about mothers and mothering love that way – when I forget labels, heal a few wounds, extend a few olive branches, and drink from the fount of humility and grace – it becomes something I celebrate.
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About Katie

From Louisville. Live in Atlanta. Curious by nature. Researcher by education. Writer by practice. Grateful heart by desire.
Buy the Book!
The Stage Is On Fire, a memoir about hope and change, reasons for voyaging, and dreams burning down can be purchased on Amazon.