A few weeks ago my husband and I got the spontaneous opportunity to see Hell’s Kitchen–the Broadway musical based on Alicia Key’s young life. It took a bit of ingenuity to rearrange everything with our children in order to say yes to this occasion, but my gut told me for some reason I had to get there.
And I’m so glad we did because this was by far one of the most moving and impactful musicals of my life.
We were close enough to the stage to see beads of sweat drip off the performers’ faces–and as they sang and danced, embodying the pinnacle of our human creative potential, I laughed, I cried, my heart opened widely and I got plugged back into the essence of who I am and what I deeply value– a true testament to the power of quality art and how it can move us.
I felt complete awe for the human journey and all that we are capable of overcoming and integrating along the way.
Although I could probably listen to Alicia Keys speak or sing all day long, surprisingly the character that moved me most deeply was actually her mother.
Her mom was inspiring–a single mother raising a teenage daughter in Manhattan, specifically Hell’s Kitchen during the 90’s, juggling work, parenthood, her own life losses and all the while holding a limitless vision for her daughter’s potential.
The show captured the imperfect, complex and challenging landscape of motherhood while also conveying the sheer strength, power, love and determination that develops alongside.
One Sunday afternoon at the theater and I remembered what I have known and yet can often lose track of in the daily grind: as mothers, we really do get made in Hell’s Kitchen.
It is through the developmental growth and challenges of pregnancy, postpartum and mothering over time that we come to know ourselves and what we’re capable of.
It is through the ongoing confrontations and encounters with ourselves and our children over the cumulation of years, that we come to understand a wider range of the human experience.
We stretch and iterate, stumble and fall. Sometimes with grace and sometimes without, all the while growing and evolving into a more whole version of ourselves.
Recently, I have been hosting small group conversations with women about their experiences as mothers. So many inspiring themes have emerged about identity, purpose and well-being.
But there is one common narrative that shows up time and time again: transformation.
There was the “me” before I became a mother and the “me” after. The two are connected and yet distinct.
Motherhood can make us. It can apply enough pressure, constraint, expansion and clarification that we get reshaped into wiser, more empathic and courageous versions of ourselves.
Motherhood can also break us. I, for one, have felt broken on multiple occasions. We can find ourselves buried in physical pain, stress, emotional overwhelm, identity loss and impounded by the mental load.
It is these multi-faceted, paradoxical and dynamic aspects of motherhood that have my attention right now.
As we look around in these tumultuous and trajectory changing times for us as humans, let’s remember that we are in the midst of transformation–through these ongoing challenges both personally and collectively, we have the opportunity, just as so many of us have done through motherhood, to redefine ourselves and shape a future we want to belong to.
Sure, there are the incessant headlines and memes, the clickbait that would have us all believing that we are living exclusively in Hell’s Kitchen.
I’m not suggesting that we turn away or pretend as if we don’t see what’s happening, but let’s also not forget to see each other– to see each other in our suffering and in our resilience.
Everyday I see women and mothers making bold, courageous and thoughtful choices. In large and small moments, I see us choosing love, choosing ground and choosing calmness.
In a world upended by speed, information and a frequent loss of moral compass, these choices, however seemingly minor, make a huge impact.
I see us as the galvanizing force that has the potential to move our collective in a better direction.
We need each other. It is through our invisible networks of support and camaraderie, intelligence and strategy that we have the potential to change the game.
So wherever you are on your journey right now, I want you to know you are not alone. There are many of us out here–seeing and feeling each other even through the darkness and noise.
When I got home that evening after the show–my body was electric, my mind ablaze and my soul reinvigorated by the path ahead.
And, like every other ordinary night, when I got home it was time to wind my children down for bed.
And as I do every night, I read to them– that night I made sure to choose Dream Big, Little One by Vashti Harrison:
“Dream big, little one.
There’s so much you can do.
Just look at all the leaders who came before you.
Wherever you go, whatever you do, be bold and dream big– the world is waiting for you.”
So let us dream big, like Alicia, like her mother, like you and like me.
Let us dream big and into a new horizon that, together, walks us right out of Hell’s Kitchen and into the warm and loving arms of one another–into a world built by courageous and creative women like us– a world built to care for and sustain the life we all know is so precious.
With Love,
Emma
