Contest Judges from At Last She Said It: Susan Hinckley & Cynthia Winward
There was a library in the giant old house I grew up in: a dark wood-paneled room with antique bottle glass windows imported from Italy, gold-leafed moldings on the ceiling, a forbidden wet bar hidden in a cabinet, a button on the wall to summon some long-ago maid, and thick, muffly carpets on the floor. A Geochron World Clock and Atlas glowed, marking the position of the sun high on the wall above my father’s desk. Day and night its blue light beckoned through the open door at the end of an echoing hall.
The room was lined with books. On the top shelf, 40 years of National Geographic magazines paraded around the perimeter in chronological yellow. To a small Mormon girl, the library felt like a portal to the whole exotic world. By about fourth grade, I had begun pulling books from the shelves I had no business reading, sinking into the black leather sofa for entire afternoons. I couldn’t always understand the words I read, but I knew they were important. From Tolstoy’s tomes to the yarns of O’Henry and limericks of Ogden Nash, I sensed between the worn covers propped against my small knees the secrets of grown-up life. I intended to know them all.
At Last She Said It and Exponent II invite you — whether a long-time reader or new subscriber — to honor these experiences in an atmosphere of trust and respect.
I believe my reverence for story was born in that magical room. I learned I could see much further, standing on the shoulders of someone else’s words. As I grew, the stories of others explained things I didn’t understand — including myself. It soon became clear that writing would be a key to surviving my own life experience. Through story I could repackage even the most unwieldy truths into something easier to hold. I could invite others to help me carry the things I didn’t know how to bear myself.
I’ve experienced the At Last She Said It project as another magical, meaningful portal. The moment I stepped into it, I embarked on an unanticipated healing journey. As we share words, ideas, and experiences, the connection I feel to women from around the world continues to lead me toward a wholeness I didn’t think was possible. I know I speak for Cynthia when I thank the women of our podcast community for every word you have shared with us — and each other — these past five years. We’re deeply humbled by the sacred gift of your stories.
The writers in this issue bravely, boldly, and beautifully, speak their deepest truths.
We were thrilled to partner with Exponent II for this special issue. Contributors were invited to “say it at last,” and as Rachel Rueckert beautifully describes it, “They showed up with sharp pens and open hearts. The truths pop and the metaphors linger on the tongue long after the story ends.” With so many submissions, the editorial team had to make difficult selections for publication, settling on seventeen essays, one fictional piece reimagining scripture, and six stunning poems. Themes range from adultery to menstruation, witches to the pain of a partner’s faith transition, attending Relief society as a trans woman to navigating the challenges of church, trauma at the temple to the power of a found family. We have pieces rooting out abuse, wrestling with theology, and expressing profound spiritual experiences. The stories are shared alongside incredible artwork by Mormon women and gender minorities in this vibrant community.
You’ll find a range of spiritual experiences in this collection. As we enter this feminist publication’s 51st year, At Last She Said It and Exponent II invite you — whether a long-time reader or new subscriber — to honor these experiences in an atmosphere of trust and respect. May we listen deeply and make time for the long version of the story. In return, may our own stories be heard and held. The writers in this issue bravely, boldly, and beautifully, speak their deepest truths. No matter where we find ourselves, may we find the courage to do the same.
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