Salute to Womanhood

March is Women's History Month and honestly, what a pleasure it is to have my birthday fall within such a month. In honor of International Women's Day, I have decided to write my salute to womanhood. 

Throughout my entire life, I have been incredibly blessed to be surrounded by strong, intelligent, funny women. Both my grandmothers and mother helped to pave the way for my sister and I. Childhood was not limited to gender-bound expectations but rather, the encouragement that the world was mine for the taking, if only I was bold enough to reach for it. Day in and out, I was met with unending support from my family. Genuinely, I cannot remember being told that I could not do or be something simply because I was a girl. Trust me, my dad threw me on the tractor to mow the lawn the second I was old enough. 

The path hasn't always been easy, for me or others. I could go into an extensive history lesson on women's rights and the struggles we have and continue to face, but I am not a historian and those are not my stories to tell. I am angry enough at the challenges we are still facing to this day and fear I could not be artistic in my anger. Rather I want to discuss what girlhood and womanhood is to me. 

A few years ago, while working as a server, I had a coworker tell me with the upmost confidence that "it is actually harder to be a man nowadays, because I have to cross the street in order to not scare women."

Shocked didn't even cover my reaction. Stacking up the clean cups in the dishwasher, I asked if he ever considered how women felt while walking home alone at night. He was so focused on his self-proclaimed title of good guy, that he failed to remember there are many who are not like him. There are many out there that use and abuse women for no reason other than an opportunity for power. 

There is so much grief and uncertainty in being a woman. So many aspects of our life that we do not have a voice in. So many tables that we are not invited to sit at. So many barriers that women of color and trans women continue to fight through. So many stories that do not get to be told. So many stories that deserve to be heard.

It isn't all bad, though. There are so many parts of being a woman that makes my heart swell at the mere thought. Girlhood is so precious and sincere and I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Spending kindergarten recesses playing house, pretending to be grown while not understanding anything about growing up. 

Sleepovers filled with dress-up and trivial gossip. Trying to pull all-nighters and playing Just Dance until your body aches. Doing each other's hair and makeup and having an ill-fated beehive go so poorly that the untangling process takes nearly two hours. 

Visiting the mall with friends, your mother waiting three stores away. Trying on clothes in the dressing room and silently crying to yourself because you don't look like your friends, or the girls in Seventeen Magazine. Deciding to purchase a hoodie and not a tank top. Regretting leaving the tank top behind. 

Forcing your father to take you to the store so you can buy every single magazine with One Direction's faces littering the page. Going home and squealing with your sister over completing an entire wall's worth of boyband poster wallpaper. Forcing your cat to pick their favorite member of the band. Comparing celebrity drama with your friends who are just as invested in the lives of those who will never know of your existence. Convincing one another that if they ever met you, they would fall in love. 

Screaming at your mother and slamming doors. Keeping secrets from her and pushing her away only to crawl back at the end of the day because, all things considered, you are her and she is you. Snuggling up to her under the covers of your parents' bed, eyes still swollen with the tears and frustrations of youth. 

Growing up and joining the sports team that defines your teens. Finding sisterhood in girls that you spend most of your days and nights with. Scream singing songs on the bus ride to games and sleeping with Pillow Pets and Vera Bradley blankets on the way home. Sharing snacks and helping each other with homework. Crying after hard loses and sweet victories all the same. Having your heart crushed when you grow up and apart. 

Finding college friends that you have only known for a year but feels like a lifetime. Sitting on the floor of your dorm with contraband drinks that you had to open with a screwdriver. Watching movies and giggling over campus crushes, speculating if they like you too. Having face mask nights with The Bachelor open in the background. Horrible baking experiments gone wrong. Late-night conversations lit by the glow of the open refrigerator, left forgotten. Laughing until your stomach hurts. Sharing beds even though you have your own. Making up nicknames for strangers on campus that have turned into mini celebrities within your group.

Getting ready for the night, rifling through each other's wardrobes and sharing clothes. Blasting music from the early 2000's. Going to parties and dragging everyone home when the night is done. Making sure that face care routines are not forgotten. Waking up the next morning to recount the evening over a plate of breakfast that quickly goes cold. Seeing your friends at their lowest and opening yourself up in return. Being a shoulder to cry on and a friend to lean on. 

Having to rebuild yourself in a new city. Keeping up with your soul-friends via phone. Inside jokes that continue to get brought up and life updates that now exist digitally. Planning reunion trips over silly European bands. Knowing everything about each other and the desperate attempt to keep that as fact. 

Trauma bonding with coworkers over a shared hatred of the gynecologist and maybe even the job itself. Speaking in Animal Crossing language to the detriment of your outward sanity. Shared car rides to the best Target in the area only to walk out with thirty things you didn't need. Big-sister advice for those who never had one. Crying on the office's rooftop after one of the worst days of your life. Going to happy hour at the end of it all and laughing over nothing. Being assured that life works itself out.

Early morning train rides to visit friends. Sitting on their couch and doing nothing at all but being thrilled at their presence. Being grateful for a friend that came to you out of the blue, predetermined by fate. Making up nonsensical nicknames for your pets and delving deep into the hardships of growing up. Ending the night with Jeopardy. 

Facetiming your sister just to show her your cat. Deciding to catch up anyways and making plans to go on your second annual sisters' trip. Realizing that all of those times where someone told you that one day, you two would be best friends, ended up being true. Talking about nothing for almost an hour and still not getting bored. 

Waking up one morning and looking at yourself in the mirror only to realize you are not some hideous beast. Maybe you even find some beauty within yourself. Brushing your teeth and choosing an outfit and walking outside thinking that maybe, just maybe, you are worth a shot at love. 

Girlhood and growing into womanhood is so ugly and violent. It takes so much out of you and pushes you down again and again until it feels impossible to stand. There is so much pain that grows within you, both mentally and physically. Despite it all however, beauty is everywhere. In the friends that stand by your side no matter how far you fall. In the family that sees the best you in the ugliest of times. In every shared laugh and tear. Every pair of too-big shoes and too-small dresses, every Snapchat of the sunny days, every hair disaster and hair win. Every remembrance that your mother was once a girl herself. Every time you get to hear of your grandmother's life story. Every time you walk outside on the first warm, sunny day of spring and remind yourself that you are alive, and while you are alive, you may as well live. 

I am so proud to be a woman. 

I am so proud of us. 

All of the love,

Sam