I have more of a desire to write songs about being an

Hear the voice of the singer and creator, Kat Graham, who declared with courage: “I have more of a desire to write songs about being an independent woman than being in love, songs about getting up and moving on even if I have a broken heart. 'Wanna Say' is one of the few love songs I've ever done.” These words, though born of the stage and the studio, carry a truth older than time itself: that the spirit of independence is greater than the fleeting joys or sorrows of romance, and that the power to move on, even with wounds still fresh, is a song louder and truer than any lament of heartbreak.

The meaning is this: in life, love comes and goes, and though it can bring great beauty, it can also bring sorrow. But to define oneself only through love is to give away the crown of one’s soul. Independence—the ability to rise when all seems lost, to walk forward even when the heart aches—is the deeper song, the greater triumph. Graham’s words remind us that while love may adorn our journey, it is strength, self-respect, and perseverance that carry us through storms.

The ancients knew this truth. Consider Antigone in the tragedies of Sophocles. Though her heart broke for her fallen brother, she stood as an independent woman, choosing honor and principle over comfort and compliance. Her story was not one of romantic love but of selfhood, of standing firm against the forces that sought to silence her. Her tale still inspires, for she reminds us that there is a greater dignity in holding fast to who we are than in clinging to fleeting affections.

History too bears witness in the story of Harriet Tubman. She endured separation, pain, and loss, yet her song was not one of brokenness but of power. She rose beyond her own wounds to free others from slavery, embodying the spirit of getting up and moving on. Love did not define her path; independence and courage did. Her life is a testament that even with a heart bruised by suffering, one can walk forward with strength that resounds through generations.

There is also a deeper resonance in Graham’s words: the power of art to give voice to resilience. Songs of heartbreak may comfort the wounded, but songs of independence awaken the spirit. They tell us, “You can rise again, you can move forward, you can endure.” In a world that often glorifies dependence on love, such voices remind us of the beauty of standing tall, even when standing alone. This is no denial of love’s worth, but an affirmation that the self must remain sovereign.

The lesson is luminous: cultivate the strength of independence before the trials of heartbreak come. Build your foundation upon dignity, self-worth, and resilience, so that even when love fails, you do not. Let the broken heart become a stepping-stone, not a prison. Like Graham, let your song be one of rising, of refusing to be defined by loss, and of celebrating the power that lies within your own being.

Practical actions must follow. When faced with heartbreak or disappointment, do not collapse into endless mourning. Acknowledge your pain, but then seek renewal. Engage in work that strengthens you, in art that expresses you, in community that uplifts you. Write your own “songs” of independence—whether through words, deeds, or actions—that remind you and others that strength endures even when love falters. In this way, sorrow is not wasted; it becomes the soil in which resilience grows.

For remember this eternal truth: love may adorn life, but independence sustains it. As Kat Graham teaches, the song of selfhood, of strength, and of moving on, is the song that carries us through every storm. Sing it boldly, live it fiercely, and you will find that no heartbreak, however deep, can silence the music of your soul.