I saw these postcards in a vintage store in Minneapolis. I think the first letter I saw was a “C”. I immediately began looking for a “J”. I knew what I was going to do with it. I fished through the pile. Hundreds of cards. Finally. There is was. “J”. I knew I would change the name on the card to Jodi, even before I saw the name. Jovita. I had never heard of Jovita. Jovita Idar. A journalist. I found her in a book celebrating “the unsung women of American history.”
Unsung, I thought. So curious. How could she be unsung, when that’s all she did, every day, to get her voice heard. She sang. Every day she woke up and told her story aloud. Told the story of all those around her. Struggling to be found. Recognized. Heard. She wrote on paper. Captured it. For all the world to see. To hear.
In searching for myself, I found her. And that’s the beauty of it all, I suppose. When we find ourselves, we can see others so much more clearly. I know who I am. I know my story. I write it every day. I capture it on paper. On canvas. I sing! I listen. And so I see you. I hear you! What joy!