In the letters we read, Emily Dickinson consistently blurs the line between friendship, romantic love, and spiritual devotion. Her language is intensely emotional but she rarely defines or labels what these relationships mean to her. It appears she gravitates towards existing in a space of deliberate ambiguity, but why does she feel the need to avoid definition? It could be a way Dickinson garners a sense of control and maintain emotional intensity with her peers without sacrificing her immediate perception or risk losing a relationship altogether. It seems almost elementary in this light. The way she writes is sort of a “peak-a-boo” to its recipient and a quiet hope that they catch on to her affections.

By refusing to categorize her relationships, Dickinson creates space for feelings to exist in their most expansive and contradictory forms. Love, longing, admiration, and distance can all coexist without needing to be resolved into fixed identities. Dickinson pours her heart into her letters, though sporadic in nature, but it seems at various points she limits herself. It could be nerves or fear of rejection, but I believe it to be that she did not want to be viewed as feeble, or at least more than she already was. We see this every place that Dickinson is mentioned, the repeated speculation on her mental state and if she truly despised the world and could only digest it through her own writings, and its this mentality that probably pushed her to be more secretive. I believe a lot of words went unwritten due to the constraints of her time period and I wonder, if at all, how much more abstract her letters would become if written today.

To push this further into the 21st century, it seems that today’s culture actually mirrors the same dynamics witnessed within these letters. Even with more openness around identity and relationships, many people resist clear labels, whether out of a desire for independence or a fear of vulnerability. Phrases like “it’s complicated,” “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” or the “what are we?” hypothetical broaches the same frustrating ambiguity Dickinson plays into. With these social taboos becoming increasingly normal, Dickinson’s letters feel unexpectedly modern in that people feel the need to maintain a certain level of distance with others, even if they are held dearly. This brings up the question on if ambiguity in relationships is actually emotionally freeing or just bottling intense feelings to further avoid any type of accountability?

Does Dickinson exhibit avoidant-attachment romance styles? Is she a serial-noncommittal? I wonder how she would feel if she had no control in the cat and mouse game and was the one strung along.

Dickinson deserves more credit for how much mental gymnastics she put her poor contemporaries through. What a woman. (I love her)