Have you ever read a personal essay and wondered, 'That’s too personal?' Why would anyone want the world to read that about them? Why would they write in such detail? Can’t they mask it in poetry? Can’t they write it as fiction? Why would anyone want to expose themselves so much to the criticism and bitterness of the world in this era of cancel culture? What’s the point? What do they stand to gain? It’s not that they're being paid for it or something. So why?
Last week, I shared some essays to celebrate International Women’s Day. One of them was Maggie Smith’s essay about her divorce. In the essay, she talked about how her 19-year relationship with her husband disintegrated and how the world [Google Maps] continued as usual. In the very detailed essay, she talked about how he packed out, the things he packed, the things he left, everything. I wonder how she must have felt writing it. As a writer, I know such writings are not the easiest to write. I’m also aware that you never write such things for other people. In most cases, you’re writing first for yourself, no one else.
In Rachel Hislop’s essay, "Testing My Fertility at the End of My World," she writes about her personal journey and reflections on fertility testing during the pandemic. She talks about how the idea of a fertility test and the need for it made her acknowledge the unexpected turns life had taken, the impact of the pandemic, the effect on her career, and her failed relationships. She writes about the internal struggle with the idea of motherhood in a world filled with death and disease. The entire piece is a heartbreaking confession of a woman going through a difficult time and processing fertility, motherhood, and a raging pandemic, all at the same time. And yet, she wrote about it in an essay that became one of the most-read essays on Pocket last year.
On September 10, 2020, The New Yorker published an essay written by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. In the essay titled "Notes on Grief," Chimamanda talks about the death of her father. She discusses how shocking the news was to her and how she did not want her family to tell anyone because once they told people, it would become true. The entire essay is about grief, raw grief. She wrote, 'I am writing about my father in the past tense, and I cannot believe I am writing about my father in the past tense.' It was a painful thing to write, but still, she wrote a 9,000-word essay on the subject.
Why? Why do people feel the need to document difficult moments publicly? It’s understandable if you choose to write in your diary or share on your Instagram private stories, but to write and publish on Twitter or share on the Guardian? Why?
I can’t speak for everyone who writes about difficult stuff. I don’t know why they do it. I can guess, but I don't have a definite answer. But I can speak for myself.
For me, writing is about documenting my evolution. If you’ve heard that term before, it’s because I stole it from the essay I’ll be sharing today and also because I’ve made a tweet about it which went viral, if 98k views can be regarded as viral these days.
I write about difficult things because that’s the only thing there is to do about difficult things—to write about them. A broken marriage is broken. A deceased parent is deceased. There is not much we can do about the difficulties that life presents us. For the battles we can no longer fight, the battles life—or death—has taken from us, the best we can do is to write, to document, to put things down and say, 'Hey, this happened. I know you were not there and it’s none of your business, but I want you to know that this happened to me and this is how I feel.' We write about the difficult things because there’s nothing else we can do about difficult things, because that’s the only thing you can do with difficult things.
We write about difficult things so others can know they are not alone. So someone battling motherhood and fertility can stumble upon Rachel Hislop’s essay and find solace in the fact that someone else, somewhere in a land far away, once experienced this same thing and lived to write about it. We write so that someone else can stumble upon 'Notes on Grief' while mourning their parent, and they can find comfort in the words of Chimamanda. We write so that those going through a difficult marriage will know that even if this ends in a divorce and Google Maps keeps a relic of their love life online, it is not the end. We write first for ourselves, and then for others who may in the future be in the same position that we are in today. We write to tell them they’re not alone.
In today’s essay, the writer talks about what it means to document one’s evolution. I’ve always seen this from a positive perspective and not much from a negative perspective. But since I shared the International Women’s Day essays, I’ve thought about what it means to write even when the words are dark, and I have the same answer: it’s still documenting your evolution, whether the words are happy or sad, we write still.
This is not a call for you to write publicly about your hurt or pain. Instead, it’s an answer to a question I’ve had and which I think others may have had too—an answer to the question: why do people write about difficult stuff? I hope this week’s issue answers why.
To read today’s essay titled 'The Importance of Documenting Your Evolution' by Kachi Eloka, click here.
If you missed the last issue, read it here.
I wish you an amazing week without any undersea cable disruption. Stay sweet! 🎉
Thank you for the essays you shared last week. I have only read one due to time but I'm hoping to read more this week.
I recently started writing more personal essays and so far I have been enjoying documenting my life. I have also written a bunch of person things on my susbtack. I
I totally agree with you that writing about difficult things is not just for us. It is also a way of telling others that they are not alone. It's comforting to be going through something then you stumble on an essay that finds the right words to what you feel. Okay this is becoming too long 😅. But yeah. I do hope to write and share more personal essays. It sort of feels very authentic to me.
Thank you for your letters. I enjoy reading them.