I’m so sorry you’re carrying that kind of pain—and so grateful you’d take the time to comment here. There’s a lot of noise right now, and not nearly enough space held for the quiet, complicated grief so many women are carrying. I'm humbled this resonated with you. 🧡
Erin, thank you for having the courage to publish this. It's SO NEEDED in our world. I found your essay to be so refreshing, especially since the topic of relational aggression has been weighing on my heart since my oldest daughter (now a freshman in high school) was targeted cruelly by a group of girls who had befriended her in seventh grade. I read a book by Danielle Walker called "Fighting For Our Friendships," which was a refreshing read, because she laid out all the ways we, as women, are conditioned to play nice and be the good girl--so we avoid conflict like the plague. What tends to happen as a result is that we backstab, ostracize, exclude, gossip, etc. These are all forms of relational aggression.
I actually ended up writing a Substack post about this, and it was published a couple of weeks ago. I am astounded at the stories people are sharing in the comments, Erin. So, your essay hit on the zeitgeist for sure. Thank you.
Thank you so much for this, Jeannie—and I’m so sorry your daughter had to walk through that. There’s nothing quite like watching it happen to your own child to make all of this feel even heavier and more urgent. I’m grateful this piece resonated and that you’re out there adding your voice to the conversation. It matters more than ever.
I think talking about this subject is really important, too, Erin. We can do better. It's interesting to me to wonder how and why we as women aren't doing more to celebrate each other and instead tear each other down.
I think talking about this subject is really important, too, Erin. We can do better. It's interesting to me to wonder how and why we as women aren't doing more to celebrate each other and instead tear each other down.
I really love how you put this—especially the part about moving from appearances to compassion. That’s a shift so many of us are trying to make, even if slowly, within ourselves and with others. And you’re right: care really is *the* thread. Thank you for sharing this, Beverley! 🧡
Erin, this essay is so powerful, so many impactful statements I could not pull out one over another. In nursing we have a phrase, "we need to stop eating our own." You said the same thing far better.
Women supporting women is a far better thing for all of us.
Thank you so much for this, Nancy—especially coming from someone in a field that knows both care and pressure firsthand, and as a woman who’s experienced profound grief. That phrase—“stop eating our own”—sums it up perfectly. Here’s to doing a better job of supporting one another, even when it’s not easy. I appreciate you. 🧡
From the depths of this widows heart, THANK YOU. This needed to be said. The one thing that I learned after losing my husband suddenly with 10 children is I am woefully equipped to pass any judgement on another’s grief. The one thing I can suggest is for people to just pray. It’s the most awful thing a woman can go through, so please just pray for the wife, pray for the children. Find a widow in your town and bring her a meal, gift cards, send gifts to the children. Be a force of good. Us widows depend on the prayers and support of others.
Thank you for this deeply generous comment, Carolyn—and for speaking from a place no one ever wants to have authority in. I’m so sorry for your loss. Ten children… I can’t even imagine the weight you’ve held. Your words are a needed reminder of what it really means to show up: not with opinions, but with presence, prayer, and practical love. Thank you for being a force of good—and for calling the rest of us to do the same. 🧡
“The instinct to protect each other, particularly when someone is vulnerable or exposed, is being replaced by an impulse to police and pile on.”
That line stopped me. It’s what so many of us feel watching these public pile-ons — women dissecting other women’s pain until there’s nothing left to protect.
But I think part of what’s happening is this: most of us see the cruelty, and still stay quiet. Not because we agree — but because we don’t want to become the next target. Or because we simply don’t know how to step in without making it worse. Or because everyone else’s outrage makes silence feel safer than dissent.
We’ve lost the skill (and the nerve) for cooling a heated moment, for naming what’s under the hostility — fear, shame, insecurity — and for gently shifting the tone toward something human again.
That’s the work we need to relearn. It’s not about being “nice.” It’s about becoming emotionally skilled — able to hold tension, label what’s really happening, and steer a conversation without feeding the fire.
Because when we can do that — when even one voice models steadiness — we make space for compassion to return. And that’s the tone women have always set best.
Anita, this is so well said, and I completely relate to all three possibilities you lay out for staying quiet, depending on the setting and what's happening in my own life at that moment. More often than not, I don't want to make it worse. Yes!! To all of this! Thanks for taking the time to articulate your thoughts so clearly. 🧡
I hope that I'm not biased, but I feel enormously lucky to be related to these two amazing women. To my daughter, Erin, and to my granddaughter, Scout, I am so proud of your courage and filled with love for both of you!
Well said, Erin. Making these sentiments explicit is incredibly important.
"an uninvited undoing" -- know what that feels like! Thanks, Erin
This is the post I didn't know I needed this week. From a mother grieving the loss of a son to prison (the other public mother right now), thank you.
I’m so sorry you’re carrying that kind of pain—and so grateful you’d take the time to comment here. There’s a lot of noise right now, and not nearly enough space held for the quiet, complicated grief so many women are carrying. I'm humbled this resonated with you. 🧡
Beautifully written. Thank you again, for putting words to what some of us can't say.
You’re awesome
The feeling is absolutely mutual.
Erin, thank you for having the courage to publish this. It's SO NEEDED in our world. I found your essay to be so refreshing, especially since the topic of relational aggression has been weighing on my heart since my oldest daughter (now a freshman in high school) was targeted cruelly by a group of girls who had befriended her in seventh grade. I read a book by Danielle Walker called "Fighting For Our Friendships," which was a refreshing read, because she laid out all the ways we, as women, are conditioned to play nice and be the good girl--so we avoid conflict like the plague. What tends to happen as a result is that we backstab, ostracize, exclude, gossip, etc. These are all forms of relational aggression.
I actually ended up writing a Substack post about this, and it was published a couple of weeks ago. I am astounded at the stories people are sharing in the comments, Erin. So, your essay hit on the zeitgeist for sure. Thank you.
Thank you so much for this, Jeannie—and I’m so sorry your daughter had to walk through that. There’s nothing quite like watching it happen to your own child to make all of this feel even heavier and more urgent. I’m grateful this piece resonated and that you’re out there adding your voice to the conversation. It matters more than ever.
I think talking about this subject is really important, too, Erin. We can do better. It's interesting to me to wonder how and why we as women aren't doing more to celebrate each other and instead tear each other down.
I think talking about this subject is really important, too, Erin. We can do better. It's interesting to me to wonder how and why we as women aren't doing more to celebrate each other and instead tear each other down.
"Perhaps most importantly, we’ve influenced how care is offered and received."
Care. That's the word I pulled from this piece, the word that stood out for me. The antidote. The answer. The need. CARE.
Yesterday I reflected that rather than saying "be nice" I should have said, "be kind".
My habits of thought are changing, slowly, from a focus on 'appearances' model to one of 'compassionate'.
For me it feels like coming home to matriarchy from a patriarchy dominated life. Coming home to me, as a woman first, person second.
CARE. It's a word, a concept I want to rattle around in my brain, be my first thought, the one that guides my responses.
I really love how you put this—especially the part about moving from appearances to compassion. That’s a shift so many of us are trying to make, even if slowly, within ourselves and with others. And you’re right: care really is *the* thread. Thank you for sharing this, Beverley! 🧡
Erin, this essay is so powerful, so many impactful statements I could not pull out one over another. In nursing we have a phrase, "we need to stop eating our own." You said the same thing far better.
Women supporting women is a far better thing for all of us.
Thank you so much for this, Nancy—especially coming from someone in a field that knows both care and pressure firsthand, and as a woman who’s experienced profound grief. That phrase—“stop eating our own”—sums it up perfectly. Here’s to doing a better job of supporting one another, even when it’s not easy. I appreciate you. 🧡
From the depths of this widows heart, THANK YOU. This needed to be said. The one thing that I learned after losing my husband suddenly with 10 children is I am woefully equipped to pass any judgement on another’s grief. The one thing I can suggest is for people to just pray. It’s the most awful thing a woman can go through, so please just pray for the wife, pray for the children. Find a widow in your town and bring her a meal, gift cards, send gifts to the children. Be a force of good. Us widows depend on the prayers and support of others.
Thank you for this deeply generous comment, Carolyn—and for speaking from a place no one ever wants to have authority in. I’m so sorry for your loss. Ten children… I can’t even imagine the weight you’ve held. Your words are a needed reminder of what it really means to show up: not with opinions, but with presence, prayer, and practical love. Thank you for being a force of good—and for calling the rest of us to do the same. 🧡
“The instinct to protect each other, particularly when someone is vulnerable or exposed, is being replaced by an impulse to police and pile on.”
That line stopped me. It’s what so many of us feel watching these public pile-ons — women dissecting other women’s pain until there’s nothing left to protect.
But I think part of what’s happening is this: most of us see the cruelty, and still stay quiet. Not because we agree — but because we don’t want to become the next target. Or because we simply don’t know how to step in without making it worse. Or because everyone else’s outrage makes silence feel safer than dissent.
We’ve lost the skill (and the nerve) for cooling a heated moment, for naming what’s under the hostility — fear, shame, insecurity — and for gently shifting the tone toward something human again.
That’s the work we need to relearn. It’s not about being “nice.” It’s about becoming emotionally skilled — able to hold tension, label what’s really happening, and steer a conversation without feeding the fire.
Because when we can do that — when even one voice models steadiness — we make space for compassion to return. And that’s the tone women have always set best.
Anita, this is so well said, and I completely relate to all three possibilities you lay out for staying quiet, depending on the setting and what's happening in my own life at that moment. More often than not, I don't want to make it worse. Yes!! To all of this! Thanks for taking the time to articulate your thoughts so clearly. 🧡
If a woman is reading this and it makes her uncomfortable then she is reading exactly what she needs to!
Ladies and gentlemen, meet the wisest (and kindest) eighteen-year-old on the planet—and a true girl's girl.
I adore you, sweetheart! ❤️
I hope that I'm not biased, but I feel enormously lucky to be related to these two amazing women. To my daughter, Erin, and to my granddaughter, Scout, I am so proud of your courage and filled with love for both of you!
This is so sweet—thank you!! We've got good genes. I love you, Dad.