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A Letter to Leia Organa

Updated on May 13, 2020
patriciamarques profile image

I'm an amateur traveler and writer that's obsessed with airplanes, Disney, Star Wars and buffet breakfasts. I hope you like what I write.


Very few – probably none of us – are capable of seeing in their reflection, in the mirror, what they truly are in the eyes of everyone else. And Leia is not an exception. Nonetheless, for as little as she sees, it is, thankfully, enough to allow her to be the extraordinary woman that she is.

The times are different and we don’t even share the same galaxy, but still, for some reason, her energy travels all the way to meet us and, up to today, it surrounds us, eternal.

Princess not by choice, committing herself to the title is not something that she bothers doing: after all, the princess type we grew up with is not one that is so independent and good with weapons, as she definitely is (apart from Mulan). But, again, the times and galactic address are different. Maybe in Alderaan, one can only become a true princess if meeting the above criteria. I like to believe so.

Being in Princess Leia’s presence is both intimidating and rewarding. We feel thankful for the opportunity of knowing her. Thankful for seeing her laughing up-close. Thankful for when we catch her distracted looking at nowhere. Thankful for her silent company when there’s nothing special to be said.

And, for a moment, everyone quiet, none of us thinking about anything in particular, we look at her and even though it doesn’t seem to exist something particularly special on her face, we see beauty everywhere. Her eyes are brown and they have a pretty ordinary shape; her nose is not perfectly shaped or positioned between her cheeks; her lips are thin and her mouth small; her hair is settled as two big and perfect spheres on both sides of her head, right up above the ears and although we find it a rather peculiar hairstyle, we love it because she is the one wearing it.

On the other hand, the white tunic covering her body, in nothing contributes to the pale tone of her skin but it still shines more than any of the stars out there. To us, it seems that it will be freezing to the touch but we soon realize we are wrong when she is the one touching us. It’s warm. And her lips are smile shaped. There’s nothing so physically unique about Leia that makes us want to look at her. Nonetheless, even though we can’t explain why, there is, undoubtedly, something that compels us to want to do it all the time and forever.

We remain quiet, her breathing feeling up the heavy hair inside the ship; her little body moving everywhere. We are certain that something is bothering her: the blackness from her extended pupils along with the wrinkle filling the space between her eyebrows leaves no space for doubts. She is worried. But she also as a plan.

Observing her, we think that she is as strong on the inside as on the outside. That all her thoughts are useful. That all her words are thought before spoken. That she is naturally funny. That she doesn’t care if not everyone loves her. That she really is as fearless and independent as she shows. That, even though still young, she is already certain that she wants to spend the rest of her life fighting for a fairer universe, where people are happier and equal. That the rawness she often shows within her speaking it’s simply her way to demonstrate her love and care for us. That she doesn’t bother with what people think of her, that no opinion keeps her awake at night. That she doesn’t self-doubt like we self-doubt ourselves. And we admire her so much for all of it.

But even in the case of this not being her true self, we still admire her – maybe even more – for having the strength to try to be it.

It’s, however, impossible - at least for me - to think about Leia as not being someone like this, as being someone who would give up all the things she’s passionate about, as someone who would accept destiny without fighting back. Leia is not like. She can’t be.

Her energy is contagious and whoever is in her presence feels strong, as well. As for me, I don’t know how to use a blaster but here, with her in front of me, I feel capable of doing it at any moment. And I just know I won’t miss the target. Because she will need me not to miss it, because she will believe that I won't miss it and, even if only for a few seconds, that will be enough.

Little more do I know about her. I don’t have the guts to ask. I’d love to tell her how much I admire her. But I don’t have the guts to confess it. I dream with the opportunity of, someday, peeking at her soul to have, for a little, access to everything that she is.

I envy her confidence so fondly and there are no words that can explain how important I feel whenever her deep, certain, not so feminine beautiful voice is at me directed. I’ve always admired princesses – I grew up with them – but what I feel for Leia surpasses every known boundary of admiration. I love her and I see her all the time and everywhere. I see her every time I try to sleep, I see her in my own reflection. I don’t know where she is at the moment but I can feel her with me. My heart is both broken and happy. And, suddenly, my brown eyes, my brown hair, my pale skin are also special.

Suddenly, I am brave and confident, too. Suddenly, I also don’t care about the way others see me. Suddenly, I cease being afraid of saying what I truly think. Suddenly, my voice is not fragile or feminine anymore.

Suddenly, I am Leia Organa and I want to be her forever.

I love you forever, Leia. And, within all of us, you will live forever.

Hope is not lost today. It is found.

— Leia

© 2020 Patricia Marques


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