Writing My First Opinion Piece: Here’s What Happened

 

When my editor asked me to write something for Mother’s Day, I didn’t expect it would turn into one of the most personal and impactful pieces I’ve written so far. The task began, as many things in journalism do, with an Excel sheet. Rows and columns filled with ideas: profiles, interviews, feel-good features. Each topic waiting to be claimed by a newsroom.

One line stood out: The societal pressure to become a mother.

I’m in my early thirties. Some of my friends are engaged, some are married, some already mothers. I don’t feel pressure in a loud, overt way—but it exists. It lingers in passing comments, in timelines I don’t quite match, in conversations that assume certain choices are universal. That subtle, quiet kind of pressure, that’s the one that stuck with me.

 

So, I reserved the topic for our WAZ Herne newsroom. I didn’t want to write anything cliché, or surface-level, or soaked in obligatory sentimentality. I wanted to write something critical, something honest. Something that might ruffle a few feathers, not for the sake of it, but because it matters.

At first, I struggled. Who should I interview? How do I ground this broad, emotional topic in real-life context?

That’s when I stumbled across an essay by journalist Sereina Donatsch, published in Frankfurter Rundschau, titled:
“Ob mit Kindern oder ohne: Es gibt keinen richtigen Weg, Frau zu sein.”
(“With children or without: There’s no ‘right’ way to be a woman.”)

I read it slowly, absorbing every passage. It felt like someone had put into words what I hadn’t yet been able to articulate. It was strong, nuanced, and liberating. So, I did what I’ve taught myself to do during this journey as a journalist-in-training: I cold-emailed her. I thanked her. Told her how much the piece meant to me.

Spoiler: she wrote back. And even suggested a meeting.

That was a moment of quiet joy for me. Proof that reaching out—when it’s sincere—can build bridges.

Around the same time, I spoke with a local women’s shelter. They told me, quite simply, that they don’t celebrate Mother’s Day. To them, the day isn’t about flowers or brunch. It’s about surviving. About support. Not on a day, but every day.

That perspective shaped everything.

 

I ended up writing two pieces: one neutral article, and a second, my first ever opinion piece, titled:

“Wir schenken Blumen für ein Systemversagen”
(“We Gift Flowers for a Systemic Failure”)

It was raw. Honest. It was me, yes, but more than that, it was for every woman who has ever been overlooked, underestimated, unsupported. Every woman carrying invisible weight. Every mother doing it alone. Every mother feeling like she has to explain why.

When it was published, I felt nervous. There’s a certain vulnerability in putting your thoughts—your truth—out there. But something beautiful happened.

A former colleague from my internship in Velbert reached out. She told me she felt seen. That the piece touched something in her.

That was the moment I understood the power of this kind of writing. When one person feels understood, it’s worth it. When your words echo beyond your own experience, you’ve done something meaningful.

This piece wasn’t about me. It was about us.
About questioning what we celebrate and why.
About replacing hollow praise with real change.
About recognizing women not with flowers once a year, but with fairness, support, and respect every day.

I’m already looking forward to writing my next one.

Photo: Ron Lach via Pexels