She was the spring whence arose that irresistible river
Even when I was much younger, I did not much enjoy celebrating my own birthdays. Too much direct attention, too much –existential angst.
It is perhaps because of my own diffidence here that I appreciate the celebrations of folks who are the exact opposite, who throw their own parties and revel in the spotlight cast by candles and sparklers. And it is precisely because of my own attitude that I embrace my “ambivalent to averse” ilk, the ones who would just rather not or will smile if you must mention it and then change the subject immediately.
Today this newsletter is dedicated to someone whose name is often in lights, though much less than it could be given how much she’s always doing behind the scenes. Who embodies an unusually sophisticated combination of scrupulous self-awareness and generous presence. Who takes up space without making other people smaller. Who architects possibility and opportunity while others pull up every ladder in sight.
Happy birthday, RAH. Thank you for walking the talk.
Attribution
I watched a river of women, Rippling purple, white and golden, Stream toward the National Capitol. Along its border, Like a purple flower floating, Moved a young woman, worn, wraithlike. All eyes alight, keenly observing the marchers. Out there on the curb, she looked so little, so lonely, Few appeared even to see her; No one saluted her. Yet commander was she of the column, its leader; She was the spring whence arose that irresistible river of women Streaming steadily towards the National Capitol. — Alice Paul by Katharine Rolston Fisher