Dear Beloved Reader,
Throughout history, when a truth was easier to write than speak aloud, and other options for communication were slim, a letter was often used to share one’s most personal thoughts with another.
Now, of course, we can type out paragraphs to be delivered to anyone, anywhere in the world, in seconds. But can you imagine how agonizing it must have been waiting for a reply in the mail after pouring your heart out via parchment and quill? After signing your name, sealing the envelope with a wax stamp, and shakily handing it to a merchant for delivery?
It is no wonder the ancients were skeptical of the written word. To write, especially within the format of a letter, is to relinquish the ability to tailor one’s words to the reactions of their audience or control how they are interpreted. Unlike conversations, which are only had once, letters are typically kept by their recipients, further contributing to the sense of permanence that accompanies sending one. To address a letter is to leave oneself vulnerable to having their words experienced and interpreted indefinitely—and that is scary!
Yet, Iris loves a challenge. For our first issue of 2026, Letters To You, our writers step up to the daunting task of signing off on what may otherwise go unsaid. Grace Traxler opens our issue with her essay, “A letter to any girl who has ever liked a boy,” exploring how the “pink-pill” pipeline preys on female social-media users’ insecurities by repackaging traditional gender roles as self-improvement content. Similarly, Faith Leslie questions the performativity of attempting to optimize the self for the New Year and suggests alternative, more community-oriented resolutions in “My 2026 Ins and Outs!”
Maxine Prudhomme, in “Dear Camille,” imagines alternative lifetimes for himself and his mother through a series of vignettes. Freelancer Gerda Paulauskaite, in “Adam’s apples and Eve’s atoms,” evokes Biblical imagery and her background in STEM to convey the battle between the head and the heart.
Next, Emily Frost discusses the ways in which playing Animal Crossing over the years has taught her strategies for coping with anxiety and the passage of time in her essay, “In Which I Receive Life Advice from Animal Crossing." CJ Ackerman-Garvin writes a heartfelt letter to a friend they lost before they were old enough to process the grief in “Bus Buddy.”
Geovanna Murphy, in “El Chuco,” shares her emails with her close friend, Miguel, as they talk through his move back home from New York City and what the “American Dream” actually means to them. Last, but certainly not least, Sydney McClellan weaves together her journal entries from middle school to the present in “Nonlinear excerpts from my junk journal,” masterfully placing her older and younger selves in conversation with one another.
Thank you, Iris writers, artists, and freelancers, for starting off the New Year so strong! And thank you, Mary and Simone, for holding down the fort while I catch every virus known to man during sick season. Finally, as always, a huge thanks to the Social Media and Communications team for everything you do to give our writers the recognition they deserve.
And to you, the reader, thank you for your continued support. Happy reading!
Lindsey Smith
Editor, Iris Magazine 2025-2026
