HEATHER STRICKLAND
YEARS AS MENTOR: 3
OCCUPATION: Senior Manager, Internal Communications, American Express
BORN: Philadelphia, PA
LIVES: Brooklyn, NY
MENTOR’S ANECDOTE: Jiselle and I have been working together for three years and we have learned so much from each other. It has been incredible to see her grow as a woman and as a writer, and watch as her interests evolve from YouTube stardom to art to journalism and foreign films. She is starting to look at colleges and I cannot wait for her next chapter. Jiselle pushes me to work on my writing and reminds me to keep things fun. I have loved my experience with Girls Write Now and I am so excited for the years to come.
People have told me not to share this piece, but I have also had people encourage me to share it. It is about a difficult time with my father, whom I love and keep close to my heart. It shows that letting go can allow you to love more.
Driving with my father was always a roller coaster. He was reckless, and would often close his eyes and pretend that he was falling asleep on the highway. Sometimes he was for real.
But he always knew how to put a smile on my face—until it was time to go home. I would cry and pout because there was a fear harvested deep inside me, telling me I wouldn’t see him again.
And then it happened. I didn’t see him again for another year and my tears never stopped falling because of the thought that something bad could happen to him and I would never know.
During his absence I thought of him a lot. I asked my mom questions like, “Why aren’t you and Daddy together anymore?” She would never tell me.
But my older sister had no trouble with giving it to me straight.
“Your father beat Mom badly.”
Hearing those words ripped my heart right out of my chest. How could this wonderful man that I love so much do such a thing? Domestic violence was something I only heard or saw on television—it wouldn’t happen in my house.
While he was gone, I developed. My mind grew but so did my heart. I reconnected with him again when I was twelve or thirteen. We were sitting in the truck he drove for work and I knew—now was the time to confront him. We had a good laugh, and then we got on a more serious note about the past. He looked me in my eyes and told me that he would never hit my mother.
He lied to my face.
My mother made sure that I grew up knowing how much my father loved me and that he would never do anything to hurt me. As much as she went through, she never doubted that he wasn’t a good father. He was a great one. I knew that, and she knew that, and to her that’s all that mattered. The past didn’t faze her and she didn’t hate him. She had conversations with him as if it never even happened, and I envied that. She’d forgiven him because that’s all she could do, and so I followed in her steps.
The Hat
HEATHER STRICKLAND
I write fiction, but Girls Write Now has encouraged me to explore poetry. When I read Jiselle’s submission, I decided to submit my own piece about letting go of your past. It is difficult to rise up and change, but exploring poetry has helped me do that again and again.
When the wind came strong and whipped
my hat up into the clouds, I thought perhaps
I should chase after it because it used
to be your hat
and I worried that I would miss the memory
of you arriving at my door on cold
winter nights drenched
in freezing air, that fuzz
of black on your head.
I worried that I would miss the way the faux-fur felt
against my ears, like I missed the way you wrapped
your arms around me
or the way you danced
your fingers across my skin
to keep me warm.
When the wind came strong and whipped
my hat up into the clouds, I thought perhaps
I should chase after it because it used
to be your hat,
but the chill in the air reminded me that there was a hole
in the hat, one large
enough for me to put my whole thumb through
so that sometimes when I wore it my ears ended up frozen
and I worried that I would get sick
because your hat wasn’t enough
to keep my head warm.
It was pilled, stretched out, faded,
and it was starting to smell
like sour sweat
and salt
and tears.
So when the wind came strong and whipped
my hat up into the clouds, I thought perhaps
I should chase after it because it used
to be your hat.
But instead I let it go
until it was nothing
but a black speck
disappearing
in the sky.
DIAMOND ABREU
YEARS AS MENTEE: 2
GRADE: Senior
HIGH SCHOOL: Millennium High School
BORN: New York, NY
LIVES: New York, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Scholastic Art & Writing Awards: Gold Key and Honorable Mention, DCTV PRO-TV Media Fellowship Program
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: Being with Girls Write Now has set me free from the barriers that held my voice and creativity back. The program not only creates a safe space for writing, but makes the process highly enjoyable. My mentor has seen me mature as a person and as a writer. She understands where I am coming from and therefore can find ways to help improve my writing. Girls Write Now is a gift that unlocked the potential I always had as a writer.
DORA VANETTE
YEARS AS MENTOR: 2
OCCUPATION: Lecturer at Parsons School of Design
BORN: