the exclamation point is a collar

the performance of pleasantness

Writing in my journal this morning, I had an epiphany: when I write for myself (in journals and this Substack, for instance), I rarely use exclamation points. But in my emails and texts—especially to people I know personally or professionally—my messages are peppered with them.

Not for clarity. Not for tone.
But to seem friendly. Nice. Lighthearted. Approachable. Pleasing.

For years, I told myself: That’s how I talk! Why wouldn’t I write in the same tone in which I speak?
But that’s not quite true. I don’t talk in exclamation points—not like that. And when I do, it’s often a performance. A reflex. A tiny, habitual shape-shifting to smooth the edges of my own existence. To be received. To be liked.

It’s the digital equivalent of softening my voice, tilting my head, smiling to make the atmosphere easier for someone else.

Exclamation points have become emotional labor in pixel form.

A little bow on top of a message that might otherwise be read as . . . what? Too confident? Too serious? Not sweet enough?

I’ve even caught myself judging other women who use periods instead of exclamations.
Their messages feel curt. Cold. I wonder: Are they mad? In a bad mood?
They’re not. They’re just not performing for me.

The rest of this post is for paid subscribers. I talk about the seduction of straightforwardness, and how it reveals the bars of my own cage. How women who refuse to perform pleasantness are dismissed as cold and unappealing, yet I am drawn to those very women and their power. If you’ve been yearning for something gently provocative, I hope this space can be that for you. Thank you for supporting my work and for walking this path with me. Your presence here means the world. If this letter speaks to you, I hope you’ll consider subscribing to unlock the rest.