We are daughters. We are mothers. We are grandmothers. 

We are soft yawns and tangled bedheads. Strong arms that have known the weight of the world. Flowery dresses that sway in the spring winds and baggy clothes that make us feel two years old again. Bare faces with little imperfections and foundation shades that become second skins.

We are weak moments and ugly cries. Chipped teacups and unused pieces of a puzzle. Wads of tissues and venomous tongues. Confused reflections of a mirror image that don’t know how they got here.  

We are determined choices and unwavering voices. Calculated professionalism in the midst of higher criticism. A will so fierce that it challenges a hide that cannot be pierced. A collection of dreams that changes with every passing stage. 

How could I not love being a woman? Who else would have my back in the women’s restroom? Hyping me up in a dress I feel uncomfortable in knowing I needed the pick-me-up. Who else would see me in a male-dominated STEM lecture and sit right by me in a show of solidarity? Silently letting me know that we’re in this thing together. Who else would inconspicuously whisper in my ear that I’ve got a little bit of red lipstick on my teeth? Saving me from the embarrassment of talking with lipstick-stained teeth the entire night? 

Time and time again, women prove to one another that they have each other’s backs. That community that we’ve constructed is one of the best parts of being a woman. Thank you for reminding me how strong I am in the moments I’ve felt weak. For the times I’ve been shown kindness when I’ve felt cruel. The days I’ve felt so tired but been shown I can push a little more. 

We are a great white oak. Our bark tells the story of the places we have been, engraved into our skin. The branches tell the story of the places we hope to reach, varying in directions yet all connected to a single trunk. And the leaves come and go with the changing of seasons. Much like the lessons and people we naturally outgrow. The roots connect us to our ancestors. Keeping them in mind as we write our own chronicles for the next generation. 

All these things are what make being a woman so beautiful to me. Not only to be remembered this month, but all year long. Happy Women’s History Month to all my empowering, influential, benevolent women out there!