Birthday Letters to My Future Daughter
Notes on life and reporting on my 35th birthday
When I was 32, I started writing letters to my daughter. Perhaps that’s surprising to many of you given that, I don’t, in fact, have a daughter.
But despite carefully crafting letters to someone who doesn’t actually exist (though, all daughters begin as a twinkle in their mother’s eye, right?) the act of putting pen to paper and attempting to summarize all the complicated, heartbreaking, profoundly stirring and deeply embarrassing things that I have learned in the last three decades of my life proved to be a fascinating, hilarious and weirdly cathartic exercise.
Performing “Letters to my Daughter” in Nairobi, Kenya.
Unfortunately, I stopped writing these letters a little more than a year ago; the reasons were many. From the murder of George Floyd, to the Jacob Blake shooting, to Trump vs. Biden 2020 and the conviction of former police officer Derek Chauvin, I found myself in the middle of some very serious and very heavy reporting that forced me to pay attention to the present moment and the present moment only.
Whether it was ripping footage from memory cards outside a rural McDonald’s at midnight, to crafting classical music playlists to drown out the sounds of flashbangs and concussion grenades during the protests in Minneapolis, to chasing big stories in small towns and hesitant sources to their front steps – quite literally - there wasn’t a lot of time to think about my future, or my future daughter, in the last year.
But today, on my 35th birthday, I started writing those letters again. And while my initial goal was to give my words to my someday daughter (inshallah), I think it’s fair to say that they have also given me comfort too.
So, as I celebrate my birthday in Mexico City, fully vaccinated and surrounded by a gaggle of rabble-rousing friends, I thought I would share a few of those recent words with you.
Dear daughter,
Always seek the truth, even if it makes you tremble.
Starbucks delivery is a thing and you should treat yourself to it.
The most profound relationships are with people who do not shy away from your pain, abandon you in your darkness or treat you as broken. Hold them tight. They are rare.
Black clothes never get dirty, flatter every figure, and scare the hell out of weak men.
If someone says you can’t do it, do it twice and take pictures.
Creating is very tricky.
Time heals broken bones but not always a broken heart. And sometimes the idea of time passing is as scary as the loss itself. It’s okay to not want to forget, to not want to smooth the memory away, to not want to say goodbye. PS: Nothing alone will heal a broken heart but dogs help.
Unclench your jaw. It’s giving you a headache.
Some people will make you feel small. Some people will make you feel big. For better or worse, you will expand to the size of the need.
Beauty and strength are not diametric opposites. You can have courage and compassion and empathy and grace wrapped around a backbone that’s tough as nails. Softness exists in souls that burn with fire. There is no limit to how amazing you are.
Life will not hand you happiness. You must steal it.
There is nothing wrong with wanting a baby, a home and a husband when you’re being shot at with rubber bullets.
You don't have to change the world. You just have to be able to sleep at night.
If you get arrested, know your rights, and make it for something good.
And finally, remember my girl:
You are a white wolf with a warrior's heart.
Raise hell.
Live a big life.
Make the world tremble.
Love,
- Katie (fire)