On International Women’s Day, we tend to celebrate and recognize some amazing and their incredible achievements. They are often women who have had significant impact on our lives.
Today, I choose to celebrate the leftovers.
The women who never quite made it, despite all their best efforts and intentions.
The women who fight a battle none of us see every day, just to do the simple things.
The women whose dreams were squashed because of being born the “wrong” shade of skin, the “wrong” size or shape, into the “wrong” religion, in the “wrong” part of the world.
The women who didn’t need dreams because they were content with the situation in which they found themselves.
The women whose bodies in the mirror never told the story the bodies in their minds were screaming to get out.
The women who somehow thought they were less because they couldn’t conceive, couldn’t carry a child to term, or didn’t want to.
The women who love men. The women who love women. The women who love both. And those who love neither.
The women who embrace gender roles, and those who reject them outright.
The women who refuse to apologize for being a women, and allow no one to define them, and those who must bend and break in order to simply survive.
The women who have been brushed aside, stepped over, and passed by.
The women who have been ignored, bruised, and beaten.
The women who are surrounded by love. The women who have nothing.
I see you. I see each and every one of you. And my heart celebrates you.