Here’s the thing.
While yes, there’s lots of swag and yes, there’s lots of brands and yes, there’s lots of parties and squealing and laughing and paper bags on our heads and hangovers, oh god the hangovers - BlogHer isn’t about that. Those things are fun and awesome, yes, but that’s not what it’s about.
BlogHer is about the collective.
BlogHer is about two women who’ve never ever met, sitting quietly in a hotel room while tears roll down their faces because a red dress made each one of them burst out - maybe not burst - maybe shatter, then maybe quietly creep, but out is out - out of a shell they’d created around themselves.
BlogHer is about a 10 year old boy driving his wheelchair up Sixth Avenue surrounded by women - and men - in tutus and running shoes, completely unfazed by the sight. A boy who just exited a storm and deserves calm and still waters but who will not see them, yet is still a boy who sees New York with the wonder and joy of a 10 year old.
BlogHer is about a woman in front of a microphone, her voice breaking, as she told us about the day she sat in the front seat of her van thinking about how she couldn’t keep her son alive, telling us how that thought sat in her head as she watched a drop of water slowly roll down the windshield and she waited for the two bottles of pills she’d just taken to end her life.
BlogHer is about another woman in front of a microphone telling us about how they took her breasts, they took her breasts to save her life, and how she isn’t brave, she just didn’t have any choice, and how they took her breasts, and they are gone, and left in their place is nothing but scars and drains and desperate hope. And it is about how someone told me - I don’t know this for a fact, but oh god, I hope this happened - that that same woman later went in to the room with the art and the balloons and she asked the woman painting words of inspiration on others’ bodies to paint words on the scar where her breasts once were.
BlogHer is about a room full of women and men sitting reverently listening to other women on the stage who are literally - quite literally - risking their lives to sit in those chairs and speak to us. They speak about injustice, about oppression, about pain and joy and heartache and celebration and dreams. It’s about knowing that there are people in this world who think that every woman in that room that morning - or any morning - should wear a burqa or die, people who fervently want each one of us who has a voice to have that voice silenced. It’s about seeing with our own eyes that there are women who can live with that fear of death hanging over their heads and still sit there and talk and talk and talk some more because they know that saying what they have to say is more important, so they will talk and keep talking and they will not be silenced, because they know, they know that silence is the ultimate threat to us all.
BlogHer is about talking about how you go from a blog to a book, and how us writers, us people who live inside our heads, how we tap in to our own experiences to use for our writing and if maybe those experiences are too close, too hard to tell, too hard to share, we then turn our own experiences in to fiction, so that even though others might read it and not know those were our own childish eyes watching these events, we will know, and we will remember, and in the telling we will heal.
BlogHer is about trying to figure out how to make a living - change ourselves - change the world from writing these words down.
The parties and the swag and the squeals, those are all awesome and great fun. But really, that isn’t what it’s about. It’s about the collective. The collective that touches your heart, touches your soul, makes you think, makes you laugh and cry and rage and vow to change something. Whether that something is in you or around you or wherever, you walk away knowing that you have power.
That’s what it’s about.
I’ve come away from BlogHer 2010 with a lot. I’ve come away angry as hell at a corporation for having such disrespect as to hold gatherings to shill their wares to bloggers while women in another building were literally risking their lives to tell those bloggers how their words were changing the world. I’ve come away with new appreciation for body art and Mr Potato Head and cheeseburgers. I’ve come home with a suitcase packed to the rim with swag.
I’ve come home with friendships formed and friendships strengthened.
And I’ve come home with the depth and grace and death-defying beauty of the collective stories of 2,000+ women and men following me like a silken train, a mist of two thousand butterflies stretching across the world, each one singular in its beauty and poise and strength.
It’s not about swag. Or parties. Or brands. It’s about us. And you don’t get it until you get it.
*************************************************
There are too many people to name. I’m going to forget someone and I’ll feel like an ass. Seriously. I just tried to type it out and I got to 20 names in as many seconds and I know there are a thousand more and I just can’t. But you, all of you, you who became my instant soulmates and secret-tellers and secret-keepers and dance partners and photo-takers and blog-tip-givers and anxiety-quellers and new friends and old friends, to you, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you a thousand thousand times. My life is changed for the better with you in it.
{ 72 comments… read them below or add one }
Beautifully put.
Beautifully.
xo
A beautiful post. Well written, well spoken, well said. And yes, I am crying.
Great post! Thank you for being a part of my experience.
And it is true. I was there, and it was moving.
I wasn't able to make it to BlogHer this year but thanks to your post I think I know some of the beauty that happened there.
Thanks!
Thank you.
(bloghim)
I have been feeling jealous of all the BlogHer attendees. It sounded like it was going to be so much fun…so much stuff and swag….so many new insights into blogging techniques…so many great connections and friendships formed. Kind of like a grown up summer camp with perks maybe?
I read a few recaps. Felt jealous and in a snit like a three year old decided that I didn't want to read any more. I didn't exactly know why I was so jealous….maybe it was all the "not going to BlogHer" posts that I also read this weekend. Feeling jealous seemed kind of cool? Sad but true.
Then I saw your post tweeted out. I couldn't resist. (yes, I also pull band aids off slowly. I might have issues) and clicked over here to read this.
Now I know that all my jealous feelings before were so out of place, so wrong, so incorrectly focused. Through my tears (because you have me crying here) I now know what BlogHer is really about. It is beautiful. It is amazing. Not just swag and fun and all the things that I have been reading about, but real things. Real people, real hearts, real hurts, real issues, and real life. I love it.
Thank you for sharing this side of BlogHer. This is the post that makes takes me beyond the hype and jealousy and makes me REALLY want to go next year.
I'm also crying at this. Partly because it is so wonderfully stated, partly because the stories are so inspired and incredible. But, I admit, I also cry because I somehow missed this part of BlogHer. I was there, but obviously not "there" enough. I quickly realized that, and I wholly regret it. I thank you for sharing what I missed - and for helping me define what it is that I will not miss next year.
Dammit you just made me cry and I'm in the office.
Holy…
Beautiful.
You make me proud to have been there.
What a beautiful, well written post. So well said. Thank you.
Of all of the BlogHer recap entries that I've read (and I've read a few… hundred), this is THE one that makes me want to actually GO. Thank you!
This is beautiful. And very true. This was the BlogHer I was at.
Yes. This.
You are one of the most gracious, smart, generous, fun and funny people I know.
I'm glad it was this for you. It is this for me. You put this beautifully Shan.
I may need to bring this damn phone back in person.
Butting in to say that YES Laurie, you do need to bring back the phone in person. Please.
This is exactly how I feel. You just said it more eloquently than I ever could.
Thank you.
Pretty post. You got it. I kept having to tell myself to not necessarily expect so much out of the conference and expect more out of the experience of being there.
I found your post through #BlogHer10 and had to stop and leave a comment because it is so well written. I felt the community aspect of BlogHer much more strongly this year than last.
And I just wanted to confirm that it was Susan from Toddler Planet (@WhyMommy) who spoke at Voices of the Year about losing her breasts to cancer. She did have her scars painted later that night and showed incredible strength throughout the conference.
Very awesomely said. So glad NYC (and the women therein) left such an incredible impression.
BlogHer sounds so magical. Now I really really want to go next year to experience it.
This is the post I tried (and failed) to write when I got home. Thank you for putting it so beautifully.
Yes, you get it. I agree. I agree. I agree.
This is the post that is in my heart that I never could have written. Thank you for doing it. Yes. Absolutely.
Probably best post I've read about Blogher. Really tired of the stories about parties, and swag and hangovers and then I read this and get it.
This makes me glad I recognize all the references that actually matter.
A really beautifully written post.
SMILE On!
ML
Thanks for articulating how I felt. This is beautiful.
What a great post! Glad I caught a link to it and came over to read…
I truly appreciate you saving me from having to write a recap. This is what matters. If people still don't get it, don't come.
Karen (Chookooloonks) was the one who painted on Susan and it was moving for both women. I can't even describe.
This is beautiful, and makes me wish even more that I had been there!
I got a hotel room for BlogHer 2007 because Susan had to back out at the last minute-she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Every blogher conference she attends is a victory and cause for celebration.
I missed out this year because with the large number of parties and growing piles of swag, I was concerned about the loss of community and connection, but your post reminds me that it is still there. I think I'll join you in San Diego next summer.
Simply beautiful.
I missed this year for several reasons but, I left last year feeling these same amazing thoughts.
It's about the collective.
LOVE
<3
Everything said here is completely true. And whenever I get a comment from a guy who says "Why in the hell would a guy want to go to BlogHer??" I emphasize the community right back at him. I went two years in a row because of the community, the collective, feeling like part of something that was doing something.
I am also completely bummed that this post was only possible after BlogHer, because all of the collective talk could have inspired HomeHer10 to be called "BorgHer10" instead and that would have been awesome. :} Although not as nice. Ah, maybe it's a good thing this post only came after.
Tracie said what I was thinking…I was having my own little pity party cuz I wasn't there…mainly for the kinship missed.
TY for your thoughts. And I loved the part of the red dress! Amen to that!
KT Walters
http://www.AnAuthenticLife.com
Yes.
And what muskrat said, especially.
Thank you.
Pencils down, everyone. This one covers it all.
I am honored to have met you and walked across that beautiful bridge with you.
xo
Thank you for that.
That's all.
Beautiful take. I feel just as you do and it looks like we attended some of the same sessions. Loralee's story has really stuck with me, too. That was such a moving discussion to be a part of. I really feel so good about having attended.
Beautiful and poignant.
Ah Shannon. You listen so well. Selfishly I know you are one of the better listeners alive. But this is profound:
"they will talk and keep talking and they will not be silenced, because they know, they know that silence is the ultimate threat to us all."
Amen and amen. Thanks for making my conference. Next time? We sing as well as dance.
Yes, yes and yes. I am tired of all the grousing and complaining that leaves such a negative impression of such a positive CONFERENCE. Folks forget that it was a CONFERENCE because attendees spend too much talking about everything else.
Such a lovely post that truly captured the spirit.
I love this post so much i want to hug it.
I have never gotten this many comments on a post ever. I am overwhelmed. Thank you. I am tired and drained because of a sick baby and I'm going to bed now so I'll respond to all of you in the morning but for now, thank you. xoxoxo.
Yes. It's the people and the stories and the connection between them all. So well put. Thank you. This is my BlogHer.
Thank you for getting it. And I type that meaning it with all my heart as I sit in a hospital bed recovering from my third surgery in four months. This community has lifted me up and helped pull my family through. So thank you for understanding
This says it like nothing else I've read. And I haven't even been there yet!
This post is lovely. Thanks.
Amen.
@lisa - thank you. xo
@beachmama - that's OK, I cried the entire time I was writing it too, ha.
@lara - thank you. I'm glad to hear others were at the same BlogHer.
@sunday - I hope I conveyed it well. It was beautiful.
@dennis - you would totally fit in at BlogHer, dude. Three kids = automatic membership.
@tracie - it's funny. I mean, even being there, there's jealousy (from me, anyway). So many people went on awesome parties and bus tours and got this swag and that swag and it's really hard not to feel envy, feel kind of left out if you didn't get invited to the "cool" party, whatever. But you know, that was the first night, and the second day and night was sisterhood, and the last day and night was sisterhood and camaraderie and tears and laughter, and the party list and swag bags became… so secondary. So silly. I now feel differently about the outside parties: they're fun, but they need to not get in the way of the collective. When we're all together is when our power truly shines.
@mandy - the weekend is truly what you make it, and if you came out of it feeling happy and energized and inspired, that's the point. Sometimes it's really hard to tell where there's going to be "moments". I went in to the grief panel late, just in time to hear Anissa say "anyone who says blogging isn't important can kiss my ass". Heh. Who knows what moments I missed before that? But it doesn't matter. The moments I took are the ones that touched my soul, and those are the ones that matter.
@sassymonkey - tell Rob it's all my fault.
@missbritt - you know you're on that list, right? You know it.
@loukia - thank you. I kind of can't believe I didn't see you the entire time!
@tiffany - thank you.
@Capital mom - thank you. I know you were there cause we were usually at the same table.
@tara - thank you.
@laurie - Huge, 20 second hug. and I will refuse to accept delivery of the phone from anyone OTHER than you.
@sassymonkey - heh. It's rapidly becoming a movement.
@Y - thank *you*.
@natalie - thank you. For me, the experience is both - sessions and interaction. It's an ever-changing mix.
@tech savvy mama - thank you. And yes, I heard the story first hand from Karen who did the painting but sometimes I don't trust my own brain, you know? I worry that I got the details wrong, like was it the same person that was on stage or a different person with a double mastectomy, which.. yeah, that's my brain making no sense. So thank you for confirming it for me.
@kerri anne - thank you. They always do leave an incredible impression, no matter where we are.
@pamela - dooooo it.
@amber - thank you!
@rita - you recognize your story in there, right? I didn't want to get more detailed because it wasn't my story to tell, but…
@sue - thank you.
@mommy this and that - well, there are a lot of parties and swag and hangovers
but they're secondary. They really are. It's the connections. And sometimes that's hard to articulate.
@muskrat -
they were good moments.
@miss_lori - smiling as I write.
@corina - thank you.
@justlinda - thank you.
@mocha - thank you, lady. x 1000. And yes, I knew it was Karen, but like I said earlier I was worried my brain had muddled details, you know? It seemed just.. too awesome to be true. Add to that three vodka lemonades and I just needed outside reassurance that something that amazing actually happened.
@Jenn - next year?
@Kim - wow. Yes, it is a victory, and her bravery for standing up there was more moving than I can describe. And you know, yes, lots of parties and swag, but that's only everything if you make it everything. San Diego or bust, lady.
@Rachel - I missed the last two BlogHers for various reasons, and it's so hard. But there's always another one.
@backpacking Dad - when I get the question of "why the hell would a guy want to go to blogher" I generally explain it by describing something about the 9:1 ratio of women to men at parties and then they go ohhhhhhhhhhh.
And yes, I had to work hard to remove all references to borg and seven of nine from the post. Once a trekkie…. Hmm. Maybe that's a good session idea for next year…. Elisa?
@KT - yeah, I had my own pity parties the last two years. It's tough. And thank Jenny for the red dress… that woman is a beauty inside and out.
@maggie, dammit - we probably sat beside each other in sessions and didn't know it.
@pammer - I was so glad to walk the bridge that morning, especially with such awesome ladies. I know I was a little "I'm running out of time" punchy, but it was still a life-list worthy experience.
@reckless Sarcasm - thank you.
@bookishpenguin - I actually had to leave the grief session. (How's that for community? I arrived early and left late. Ha.) it was too heavy for me, for a number of reasons. It was wonderful, and moving, and I walked out of there thanking every power that is that I have not had to go through what those women (and men) have had to go through. It amazes me every day that there are people who lose a child and survive it.
@sarah(casm) - thank you.
@lisa stone - I actually am having trouble finding words. But you know, right? You know. You know what you guys mean to me. xoxoxo.
And? I'm showing up on your doorstep with a karaoke machine sometime. ALWAYS BE PREPARED.
@cagey - you know, and this is not gonna go over well, ha, but there's always bitching. There's always something that doesn't go well, there's always a snub or a drama or a whatever, and people talk about those because it's fun. It's harder to talk about what touched your soul. It's a much more vulnerable thing to do. But everybody felt it, and if they choose not to talk about it I like to think it's because they maybe don't know how, but maybe someday they will.
@jodifur - hee. It hugs you back.
@andrea - xoxoxo. Imma gonna show up on your doorstep sometime. you watch.
@erin - I shouldn't be surprised you're online three (?) hours after your surgery. I missed you, even though we've never met. Next year. Next year you will be healthy and we will rock the joint.
@melodie - you should come next year.
@miss grace - thank you.
@jenny - xoxo.
I love this post. Despite the ugly cry it has elicited, it has inspired me and made me deliriously happy.
I second (or 52nd) the sentiments here- exquisite, insightful, and absolutely spot-on.
I love that the conference can be different things to different women. But I hope that this version isn't the one that gets lost in the shuffle.
Thank you.
It was so much fun to be there again and to be part of it… to be part of "us" - you're so right!!!
Oh, I loved this. Thank you. This was my first BlogHer, and I think I arrived with too many expectations. Why did I expect the microcasm of BlogHer would be any different than real life? Full of beauty and awful and wonder and friendship.
Thank you for putting into words so beautifully.
-Ellie
I read this yesterday. I cried. Then I read comments. And cried some more. I was so emotional, I couldn't even comment! And, hai, I'm a virtual blabbermouth, so wow.
I bookmarked. Today I'm back. Eyes are watering again and before I'm consumed once more, I type this out hurriedly.
I was there, I was moved like this, and your post is FABULOUS and PERFECT.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
This.
Thank you.
Shannon, this was so well written. I wish I had been there to experience what you did. And I'm sorry we won't be able to hear more of your experience at the meet up.
Yes, yes and yes. Just beautiful.
This is what keeps me going back. Everything you said, as well as spending time with the people who understand it. The people who see me. That makes it one of my favorite weekends of the year.
I no longer need to write a summary post of BlogHer as you have hit the nail on the head absolutely and completely. Amazing post.
That's just what I was going to say!
lovely. Thank you.
PHENOMENAL post! And so spot-on about what BlogHer is REALLY about. I had goosebumps for many different reasons throughout the weekend and this post just gave me the biggest ones of all!
This. Just exactly this. You have captured the spirit of BlogHer. No one needs to write another single, blessed word.
This was my third BlogHer. They just keep getting better.
I'm all goosebumpy. Thanks for cutting through the swag and shine and glitter to share your experience about what blogher, and other events like it, are about.
This is by FAR the best recap I've read. You are wonderful.
Plus a cute gal who sang our grade 8 slowdance song Time After Time.
This was BlogHer. I'm grateful for the experience.
Had I read this post first…I wouldn't have bothered putting up a recap at all. Well done.
I have to say that this is my favorite BlogHer post. You put this so beautifully.
I've been wondering if I shared too much sitting up there on that panel, but this post? Makes me think it was absolutely the right thing to do.
I've been wondering if I shared too much sitting up there on that panel, but this post? Makes me think it was absolutely the right thing to do.
Just wandered in here after reading Pammer's post (Outside Voice) about BlogHer - loving the blog.
We were at the cottage for a week, so I'm catching up on comments now!
@julie - thank you. Your words make me deliriously happy.
@mom101 - thank you. I hope so too.
@ohthejoys - yes, it *was* fun. I didn't say the parties weren't awesome, cause they totally were, hah!
@one crafty mother - it's really hard to figure out what BlogHer will "be". You hear so many stories about this and that and people who have awesome times and people who don't… I find it better to go in with goals, rather than expectations. As in, I will talk to X, Y and Z person, even if only to say hello. I will force myself to meet new people. I will go to whatever sessions. You know what I mean?
@Lotus - thank *you*. Hugs.
@some kind of wondermom - next year. next meetup. Promise.
@issas crazy world - yep. It costs a fortune, and it's so worth it.
@marinka - great minds!
@Jen L - thank you!
@Tina - yes! every year is different, every year is more and diverse and bigger than the last.
@eisangel - thank you.
@wendi - you're wonderful, lady. xo
@coffee with julie - I was so sad to not see you slow dancing on the dance floor with some guy channeling his teenage years, sigh.
@nynancy - thank you!
@tonyastaab - thank you. You guys are making me cry.
@where women cook - your words moved me to tears. Still do. It must have been unbelievably difficult to get up on that panel and speak, and maybe the intensity of the moment pushed you farther than you perhaps intended - but the moment it brought to me, and I am certain other people in the room, was worth so much. I cannot imagine what it would be like to go through what you went through, but thanks to you expressing and sharing with us, I now have at least a glimpse of how it must be to live through these kinds of tragedies - and what it's like to come out the other side. Ultimately, what you gave everyone else in the room was hope, that even when the unthinkable happens, you *can* survive. So - thank you. Thank you a thousand times. Hugs.
@jonathan - thank you
What a brilliant and beautiful BlogHer post. I'm so sorry our paths didn't cross while we were there. I read what you said in another post about Kate Inglis being a great writer (she is) but I'd say you're pretty darn great yourself. Just lovely.