Women in Journalism Committee Member Jem Collins returns this week to spotlight more incredible women journalists in the run up to our 30th anniversary. Don’t forget to nominate your own here.

A lot of the time when we talk about journalism, we focus on the practicalities. Quite rightly, we think about the countless hours chasing down a source, the endless crunching of numbers in spreadsheets, or the innumerable Freedom of Information requests that absolutely won’t be replied to on time. Or, in our digital newsrooms, we think about how well a story has done by how long people stay on the page, tweaking our words to rank more highly in search engines.

But aside from the vital journalism that informs, that exposes, there’s another essential pillar of what we do. Journalism that makes you feel. So, this week I wanted to put the spotlight on a team of women working on just that, through their independent publication Aurelia.

Founded by Manchester-based Kya Buller in 2018, it’s one of the few online publications that actually feels like a space to pause. Rather than adding to the crowded list of notifications on your phone, Aurelia is a place to breathe deeply, championing powerful pieces of personal writing from people of marginalised genders. Most of all though, it feels welcoming, calming, hopeful. Unlike the news pieces that keep my brain buzzing, the writing in Aurelia gives me the space to think myself, letting my mind wander long after the piece has finished.

A small but mighty team, Kya is now joined by Deputy Editor Shahed Ezaydi and assistant editor Amelia Ellis, all of them juggling the site around their full-time journalism careers. New writing doesn’t appear daily on Aurelia, sometimes not even weekly. But for me, that’s also part of its beauty. The slower delivery seems to add to the sense of calm, and the perfectly crafted writing is very much worth the wait.

So, where to begin, with a treasure trove of evergreen pieces? Perhaps Denali Nalamalapu’s beautiful essay to the women who run away from their lives, and how her own mother’s exit from the family home shaped her view of relationships. Or Michele Theil’s wonderings on the birth family she’s never known, who could be at the coffee shop counter with her. Sian Bradley’s comforting ode to the power of gardening when depression becomes consuming, Caroline Banerjee’s love letter to the coffee shops which have shaped her life. Wherever you start, it won’t take long to get lost.