Olivia Gatwood's Words and How They've Shaped Mine
-- sparked by finally reading Whoever You Are, Honey.
Olivia Gatwood’s poetry left a lasting impact on me from the time I’d first listened to her poem, “Jordan Convinced Me That Pads Are Disgusting” when I was a teenager.
You can listen to it here:
Jordan Convinced Me That Pads Are Disgusting - Olivia Gatwood
As a highschool sophomore, I was convinced of my mystique and intelligence by my borderline unhealthy consumption of Button Poetry’s YouTube channel. It’s embarrassing to think about now, but it lead me here and for that I’m grateful. I’d come home from school and grapple with a single image, living alongside it for as long as it stayed my grasp. Olivia Gatwood’s seemed to stay the longest. I truly believe this was the beginning of my real appreciation for language, and my awareness that I wasn’t brave enough to transfer my own into performance.
The images that I clung to in Gatwood’s poem were mechanical, the “dirty bike chains,” and “underbelly of a car.” Something about these elements coexisting with a topic so traditionally “feminine” spoke to young me. I believe all of us had a “Blood Scholar,” an older girl that tackled the scary “muscle that holds and pulls and keeps and sheds” much better than we could. I think I listened to this piece daily for at least a few months, and I still bring it up when asked about my favorite poets.
From what I can tell now, this poem has so much impact on me because it discusses something I found unspeakable in a more normalized and routine manner. Cars get fixed. Tampons are used. Bike chains are greased. Whatever. It’s interesting to present me that I found this so extremely profound, but I think that’s what misogyny, the south, and the church will do to you.
My love for Gatwood continued as I read her book, Life of the Party, a couple years later. One thing about me is that I love the concept of girlhood. I love the thought that it’s inescapable, that it’s always inside of you. Gatwood continuously immerses me back into it. Theres the everyday fear, the newfound and sometimes withering pride, nostalgic shame — it all takes shape in her writing.
There’s a poem in this book called “Girl” and I thought of it a few weeks ago when my coworker spoke to me negatively about her graying hair.
I work with primarily older women, mostly in their 50s and 60s, and have learned so much about myself through doing so. Sometimes I feel the same shame I remember from being in a room full of mothers, all pulling their girls’ hair back into a tight bun and painting their lips firetruck red, before a ballet recital. Sometimes I find working with them inspiring. Their honesty and confidence teaches me how to have my own.
Anyways, she told me how she wants to dye it back dark, but isn’t sure. She says she’ll feel old either way. I asked her why that’s such a bad thing and she shook her head. I told her my grandad went gray when he was 25 and I’d be glad to have the free platinum blonde passed down to me. She laughed. I showed her an Instagram photo of Olivia Gatwood and we both discussed how beautiful she is with her little grays growing in. My coworker told me she looked so youthful still, to which I said, “so do you.”
The poem titled “Girl” starts with, “i don’t think i’ll ever not be one/even when the dozen grays sprouting/from my temple take hold and spread/like a sterling fungus across my scalp.” One of the better parts of my job is that working and laughing with these women reinforces this truth.
Most recently, I read Gatwood’s new novel, Whoever You Are, Honey. I’ll admit, I was equally excited and nervous to read it. I hadn’t read any reviews. I waited months after the release date to get my hands on a copy. I didn’t want to ruin what was already good, a writer I truly love.
I’m not here to summarize or spoil, but in brief, the novel takes place in Santa Cruz, California and mainly depicts the lives of three women — Mitty, Bethel, and Lena. Mitty and Bethel, two women who circumstantially live together, have a curiosity to them that unfolds as the novel progresses. Lena, their neighbor, has her own curiosities that take shape way differently. The book discusses interpersonal issues — the way our reactions impact us and our relationships, and how we react to beauty — all while including modern elements of technological advancement and mystery. There are moments of secrecy, tension, risk, and reward. While sometimes I felt as though nothing was happening physically, there was always something stewing beneath the surface.
I was so excited to have something new from Gatwood after revisiting the same pieces for so long. One thing I hoped for was that the language and image would still feel attuned to Gatwood’s previous writing. This was not in a way of me wanting the same old thing, but I still wanted to hear her voice that I’ve previously noticed to be so unique. I wanted it to feel like the book was hers, not just a novel about a few women getting to know each other. To me, this wish rang true and I could not be more glad.
Whoever You Are, Honey feels like Gatwood, but it also feels like Mitty and Bethel and Lena. I think Gatwood’s ability to write these characters so well, making them all seem so similar yet drastically different, comes from the way girlhood strings through each of the characters. It’s a connection point for them, and what I feel to be a connection point between the novel and the women who read it. This theme felt so prominent to me because of the way I see it in the women I surround myself with. I see it when we use the phrase “I’m becoming so much like my mother.” I see it in the ways that I immediately click with most women, feeling a sudden impulse to overshare with them. I see it in the girls that are willing to check and see if you’re bleeding through your tampon. I see it in the silent way women check on each other in bars and restaurants and coffee shops when they see a man standing just a little too close.
The novel asks the reader to check their own ethos. Voyeuristic tendencies and complicated pasts ask the reader to question what qualifies someone as “respectful” or even “good.” There are many conflicting moments later on in the book that beg the question of character and integrity. There are moments of forgiveness for the characters that find their way of extending to the reader.
This novel allowed me to find comfort, but also reflection. It’s relatable, but finds its way of still feeling unique.
If I had to make one critique, I’d say there’s a lot of mystery in this novel. I ended up reading a few reviews after finishing it, and I did see that comment more than once. I will say I have avoided Goodreads and kept to Google for the most part, so maybe my view is limited. Goodreads has ruined too much for me and I rarely read reviews now because of it. Discourse is great, but sometimes people are just mean and miss the mark entirely.
Regardless, there are many open-ended elements of Whoever You Are, Honey. For the days after finishing it, I wondered how Lena ended up doing. I won’t even bring up Esme. I still have my thoughts on the Sebastian situation, and I’m pretty confident in my stance. I wonder about last scene, where that conversation ended up going. I hope Bethel is doing okay with the way things ended.
I have such mixed feelings about this aspect of the story. Part of me likes making my own assumptions, but another part wants answers. Maybe that’s the point. Who knows.
All of this is to say, Olivia Gatwood has been one of my favorite writers for years now. She’s inspired me to continue writing in the past, and has now broken me out of my slump in order to talk about this. So for this, I thank her.
I know she’s older than me, but I feel like I’ve grown up with her. I remember seeing instagram posts of Whoever You Are, Honey’s first stages, years ago now, and being anxious to read it someday. I remember the moment she posted my photo on the @girlsofisolation website in 2020 (pictured below because I think it’s a little funny — link: Girls of Isolation) and it brought be a bit of joy and connection while I was locked in my room finishing up school. I remember sitting in my car in random parking lots, as one does in a town with nothing to do, and watching her poetry performances over takeout. I remember writing on the pages of Life of the Party and hoping anyone I lent it to didn’t judge me too much.
Maybe I feel this way because she was an integral part of my teenage years. I don’t really think I know her, and I feel like parasocial relationships are just strange, but I do feel like there’s something that ties me to her work. I believe there’s got to be something that ties everyone with a connection to the word “girl” to her work.
To you, if you haven’t already, I strongly urge you to read her in any way you can.
To Olivia Gatwood, I thank you for your words.
If you’re interested, these are the books I mentioned:
or just look at her website.