A Letter to Marilyn: What We Still Need from You

Dear Marilyn
We never met, but I feel like I know you.
Not the legend. Not the perfume ad. Not the stencil on a t-shirt.
But the woman behind the curtain—the one who looked away when people stared too long. The one who tried to love harder than she was loved back. The one who wasn’t sure if being adored meant being understood.
There are a million tributes to your beauty. This isn’t one of them.
This is something more personal. A conversation. A confession. A thank you.
1. You Made Vulnerability Look Brave
I used to think softness was a weakness.
Then I watched you in Don’t Bother to Knock. You weren’t perfect. You were trembling. Confused. Real. You didn’t hide your fear—you gave it a name, a face, a heartbeat.
And suddenly, I understood: strength doesn’t always shout. Sometimes, it whispers through mascara-stained cheeks and broken monologues.
You showed us how to bleed in front of the world—and survive it.
2. You Proved That Smiles Can Lie
The first time I saw your photograph, I thought: how could someone that radiant ever feel lonely?
Then I read your words. The ones no one printed on postcards. You said things like: “I restore myself when I’m alone.” And I realized something sad and beautiful: the happiest people in the room are often the ones holding themselves together with invisible thread.
Your smile wasn’t fake. It was armor.
You weren’t fooling us. You were protecting yourself.
3. Fame Didn’t Save You—But It Didn’t Kill You Either
They say you were destroyed by your fame. But I think the story is more complicated.
You chased visibility because you thought it might feel like love. And when it didn’t, you kept going anyway. You kept hoping someone would see you beneath the makeup.
That persistence? That hope? That’s not tragedy. That’s grace.
You weren’t a victim of fame. You were a survivor in spite of it.
4. We Still Don’t Know What to Do With Women Like You
You were sexual, but smart. Gentle, but powerful. Vulnerable, but in control. The world couldn’t handle the contradiction. Still can’t.
Women today are still punished for being too much of anything. Too loud. Too quiet. Too pretty. Too ambitious. You showed us that being complex is not a crime—it’s a mirror.
We saw ourselves in you. Still do.
5. You Deserve More Than Nostalgia
You’re not just a vintage icon. You’re not a Halloween costume. You’re not a tragedy in curls.
You were a writer. A thinker. A woman who wanted to matter. And you did.
The world tried to shrink you into a symbol. But symbols don’t write poetry. Symbols don’t shake when they speak. Symbols don’t die of heartbreak.
You were never a symbol. You were someone.
6. What We Still Need from You
We need your defiance. Your softness. Your proof that being emotional is not embarrassing.
We need to remember that fame doesn’t fix the ache—and that sometimes, what we think is envy is really empathy.
Most of all, we need your reminder that it’s okay to want to be seen. Truly seen. Not for what we give, but for what we are when no one’s asking.
You never really got that. But maybe your story helps someone else to.
Epilogue
Wherever you are, I hope the light feels kinder. I hope the applause doesn’t scare you. I hope you’re not acting anymore.
You were never just the woman in the white dress.
You were all the reasons we still believe in gentleness.
Thank you, Marilyn.
Sources
https://www.vanityfair.com/style/2022/07/marilyn-monroe-reflections
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/oct/01/what-marilyn-monroe-taught-us
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/09/28/opinion/marilyn-monroe-women-fame.html
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