The Weight of Womanhood: An Ode to International Women’s Month

To be a woman is to exist in a paradox. To be seen, but not heard. To be spoken over, overshadowed, and underappreciated. To be everything and nothing, all at once.

Womanhood is a tightrope—too loud, and you are seeking attention, begging to be judged, called bossy, aggressive, or “too much.” Too quiet, and you lack confidence, have no spine, and are dismissed as someone who doesn’t know how to command a room. The space we take up is always scrutinized, always debated, and never truly our own.

To be a woman is to show up and show out, to over-prepare, to be overqualified, to outperform—just to be seen as competent. While men are granted authority by default, we must prove ourselves repeatedly. Our intelligence is questioned, our emotions weaponized, our successes undermined. A man can be mediocre and still be seen as a leader. A woman can be exceptional and still be seen as “not enough" or if she is a leader then she is "bossy".

We are asked to be ambitious, but not too ambitious, lest we intimidate. Assertive, but not aggressive. Smart, but not arrogant. We are asked to smile more, to be more approachable, to soften our voices, to dilute our strength so it’s palatable to those who fear it. And if we refuse? We are difficult. We are unlikable. We are the problem.

To be a woman is to be judged by your appearance before your abilities. If you are not beautiful by their standards, you are invisible. If you are too beautiful, you are a distraction, reduced to an object, a temptation, something to be controlled. You are desired until you say no. And when you do? You are humiliated, ridiculed, and sometimes even punished for rejecting what was never yours to take.

To be a woman is to exist in a world where our pain is often ignored. Where our voices are silenced, our boundaries disrespected, and our bodies debated as if they are public property. Where our fears are brushed aside, our safety is an afterthought, and our traumas are questioned more than our abusers. Where we are told to be careful, to cover up, to shrink ourselves for protection—because the world refuses to hold men accountable for the harm they cause.

To be a woman is to balance, to bend, to break and rebuild. To be constantly underestimated, yet never allowed to falter. To carry the weight of expectations while still finding a way to thrive.

And yet, despite it all, we rise.

Because being a woman is not just about struggle—it is about resilience. It is about power. It is about taking everything the world has tried to strip from us and turning it into something unstoppable.

This International Women’s Month, let’s recognize the impossible expectations placed upon us—not as a means to accept them, but to dismantle them. To demand more. To speak, even when they tell us to be silent. To take up space, unapologetically. To exist on our terms, not theirs.

Because being a woman should not be a burden. It should be a force. And we are just getting started.