Redacted: What Divorced Women Aren't Telling You

Introducing a new project + call for submissions

Do you want to craft a divorce essay in community with other women? Join the Writing Divorce workshop from July 7th-31st, led by Redacted editor Stephanie Sprenger.

I am thrilled, terrified and hopeful as I finally unveil a new project today. Introducing Redacted: What Divorced Women Aren’t Telling You— an anonymous publication for women to share the stories about divorce they have been unable to tell.

In the months after my divorce was final, I taught a workshop called Writing Divorce, to give divorced women a safe space to process, share, receive support, and express themselves. In preparation for the course, dozens of anonymous women shared their experiences with me in a survey. After reading responses from so many divorced women and facilitating the workshop—not to mention integrating the stories of my numerous divorced friends and my own experience—so many similar themes emerged. And my blood began to boil.

In the weeks leading up to my mediation a year ago, I finished reading Lyz Lenz’s groundbreaking book, This American Ex-Wife: How I Ended My Marriage and Started My Life (if you are interested in this project, you absolutely need to read this book if you haven’t already). In addition to sharing her own personal story,

lyz

synthesizes data and presents thoughtful analysis on the experiences of divorced women in heterosexual American culture. It is grim; it is devastating; it is infuriating.

Lenz writes, “We've been making it an individual rather than systemic issue, a “What's wrong with me?” or “I'm a good man” rather than looking at how the structure of heterosexual relationships is oppressive, how we celebrate the martyr mother archetype and denigrate the selfish woman who blows it all up so she can live free.”

I spent the better part of the past year with the idea for this project percolating in the backdrop of my chaotic life as a self-employed single mother in the wake of a wildly traumatic divorce. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. And every time I almost talked myself out of it, I worked with another woman—as a private writing client, in a workshop, in the cast of Listen To Your Mother—whose story relit the fire underneath me. There are too many of us choking on untold stories and navigating systemic injustices to be quiet. I needed to do this—for them, for me, and for the countless other women whose divorce stories are eating them alive.

We need a safe place to share our stories without fear of fallout. Anonymity is the only option I have come up with. And so today I am launching a call for submissions to Redacted: What Divorced Women Aren’t Telling You—a project that I hope will be both a Substack column and a print/digital anthology.

My divorce ceremony last summer

“Can you imagine if a mother behaved this way,” one woman commented. “The whole world would know about it.”

When you are a divorced woman, you have stories. Some of them you spill in hushed whispers at happy hour or confess in sobs to your mother over the phone. Some you document in detail to your attorney or to a Child and Family Investigator. Some stories are for your therapist. Many of them are stories you hide from your children. And even more of them are stories you carry alone like a lump in the throat.

Whether or not you are one of the fortunate women who has a robust support system—close friends, an engaged extended family, community connections, a fantastic lawyer—the reality is that many of us have stories we have to conceal from the general public. We cannot share what we have been through, not without great cost to ourselves, to our children, to our families and friends. And to the men we protect with our silence, whether or not we believe they deserve that protection.

Reputations are at stake, not to mention propriety. As Taylor Swift writes, “No one likes a mad woman.” I mean, some things are just better kept quiet, and who are we to make a scene by publicly airing our dirty laundry? It is undignified to list your grievances and talk about personal matters publicly.

What would people think? Drama queen. High-maintenance. Narcissist. Bitch.

Me, not talking about my divorce on stage.

Should we—the women, the caretakers—tell these sacred stories with all their pain and shame and indignity, there would be consequences we are not willing to bear. In fact, we have been bred to keep these secrets. We are the ones who keep the boats unrocked, the mealtimes pleasant, the skeletons hung tidily in closets. We are the sweepers of unspeakable things under rugs and the carriers of traumas.

I believe that this phenomenon is systemic, and that the silence of women has been baked into the expectations of marriage. It is written into the bylaws. Modern marriage and divorce is underwritten by an unspoken truth that women will do whatever they have to in order to protect their children, the peace, and the reputation of the family. There is no bluff to call—it is a foregone conclusion that regardless of how poorly you behave, she will cover it up.

On that note, a disclaimer:

Allow me to issue a blanket statement to the myriad men who will inevitably pop up to remind me that, actually, their wife ran away and left the family, or that their ex is a narcissist or a drug addict or an unfit mother. The ones who may correctly identify as the hero of their own story. Yes, truly, there are such examples of cruel, unwell women harming wonderful men. I am well acquainted with a few myself. But those are not systemic problems, and I am not on that committee. So, write on, warrior fathers. Create your own anthology.

This one is for us.

• The women whose silence burns their throats and bellies but they know there is no choice but to swallow the truth.

• The ex-wives who are sick and tired of being the fucking “grey rock.”

• The women who married the wrong men at the wrong time, swept away on a wave of “should,” changed their minds, and paid a steep price.

• The women who have endured gaslighting and cruelty laced with a healthy dose of plausible deniability.

• The mothers whose children’s fathers have not stepped up to the plate, have moved away, or simply disappeared.

• The ones who dared to ask the ungrateful question, “Is this all there is?”

• The woman whose judge husband ensured nobody would represent her.

• The former SAHM who lost everything and started over from scratch.

• The woman in her sixties whose 40-year marriage ended abruptly and left her with a life that was unrecognizable.

• The mothers co-parenting with fathers who have mental or physical illnesses, addictions, or criminal histories.

• The ones who have sole custody of their children and are equal parts grateful and furious.

• The women who will never be able to reach or reason with the men they divorced.

It is for all those women, for you, and for me. These are your stories, and they are mine. Redacted exists so that these stories can be told, if not claimed, and so that the authors can be compensated for the creations that have resulted from their suffering.

Oh great. A bunch of bitter women with revenge fantasies.

Well, first of all, fuck off, Tommy. Second of all, I hear you. Who wants to read one rant after another? (I mean, I kind of do.) But also, this project is about healing, not complaining and causing harm. It is about catharsis, connection, and creation. And that is beautiful.

I love writer Elissa Altman’s take on this,

“Revenge writing in memoir is never, ever a good, or valid, creative intention. Retribution masquerading as art inevitably fails at the foundational level; it deflates language, renders characters cliched and flat and lifeless. It dilutes human complexity and possibility from the story; it negates human frailty and the ambiguity that goes with it.”

But also? I have zero reservations about absolutely fucking annihilating the patriarchal structures that got us into this mess to begin with. Some institutions are begging for relentless retribution.

What does this project want to be when it grows up?

I’m going to be honest: I’m not entirely sure yet. This is a one-woman, grass roots operation at the moment, and I am going to let it unfold as it unfolds and continually recalibrate as needed. But this is my vision:

—A Substack column with weekly anonymous essays from divorced women, including micro-essays—Divorce Dispatches—and one sentence Tiny Truths.
—A potential book: I would love to publish a print and digital anthology with anonymous essays from divorced women
—My goal is to eventually be able to compensate every single writer, with help from subscribers, donors, and sponsors. It may take time as I get my feet under me, and I am asking for your support in a few ways.

You can support this project by becoming a paid subscriber or making a donation—as an individual or business—here. And most importantly, please spread the word to potential contributing writers and readers by sharing this post.

You can read the full call for submissions with guidelines here. If you want to submit an essay to be considered for both Substack AND the anthology, you absolutely can. If you are a “non-writer” with one sentence or a paragraph that you are dying to share, please do! It is my hope and dream to showcase as many women’s voices and stories I possibly can. I just heard this mic drop line yesterday.

It takes so little to make a “good dad,” and so little to make a “shitty mom.”

It may not be the same thing as having a byline to proudly share or boldly posting on Facebook or having your name on something, but if women can have their words shared, even anonymously, and know that they are touching someone else who needed to read it, I will be thrilled. And if I can pay them for the work they cannot claim, even better.

XO,
Steph

P.S. Want some support while you write your story? Sign up for the July session of Writing Divorce from July 7th—31st here. Space is limited to preserve an intimate environment, so save your space today.

PLEASE SHARE THIS PROJECT WITH YOUR DIVORCED FRIENDS! Help me spread the word, start collecting women’s stories, and let’s build something amazing together.