I struggled a lot when thinking about what to write for this article. International Women’s Day is such an important date in my calendar yet I feel as though it can so often be brushed over. ‘Who needs International Women’s Day when we have Mother’s Day?’ someone has quite literally asked me. ‘Not another day’. And, ‘When is International Men’s Day?’. 19th November, I’ll reply.
International Women’s Day, I find, is so frequently trivialised. So many see it as just another event to scribble over in your yearly family planner. Just another reason to buy someone a card or three more words to say.
But it means so much more than that.
The day is a celebration. It is important for highlighting the brilliance of so many women from all areas around the globe. So, I wanted to write with celebration in mind. I started tying away my thoughts about all the beautiful women in my life; how they deserve celebrating. I thought I’d write a letter to them. At the risk of cringing my future self out, I continued. Below, is what I came up with. Whilst this originated as a letter to the women in my life, it also serves a love letter to all the amazing women out there in general.
Dear all the wonderful women in my life,
I love you.
I love the sparkle in your eyes. The way you see the world in its wonder. You recognise that there is so much beauty to hold onto. And so you do just that, you grasp on to it with those magnificent, warm hands of yours, realising that those same hands are a part of the beauty. You are the beauty.
Thank you for bringing so much of it into my life. You transport vigour with every step you take. You are the fizzy bubbles at the top of an over-shaken soft drink. I love seeing you excited. I smile watching your cheeks flush as you deliver a story you are passionate about. You can’t hide your happiness; you’re so desperate to share it with the world.
And on that note of sharing, thank you for sharing your hugs. I have never felt safer in an embrace. I love cuddling in fluffy socks and oversized jumpers under double duvet covers. Then leaving and knowing I can always come back for more. You will always have open arms and an open mind when you hear me speak. Truly, deeply listening as I tell you about the emotions of my day.
Then, I love singing with you. I dance with you. I love watching you dance. I love the way you throw your body around the space; stretching out each limb into your surroundings – taking up all the space you can; knowing the world is indeed yours. You’re like a flower that refuses to be stunted even though there is less rain this season; nothing will stop you.
Your dancing can turn into a jump. And your vivacity propels this jump into a run. So we run. We run through the streets. Through the fields of bluebells. Between the tall trees which hide the peeping sun and provide us with cool shade. We run for the bus. For the last train ride home. Just for the sake of it.
Life is full of fun with you.
In this life, I have loved and will continue to love watching you grow. Grow from wide-eyed children to strong, young women. From tentative students to smiling career-women. From young mothers to slightly older ones. From grandmothers to older women whose wisdom I admire. I will always admire. And you recognise growth is not merely restricted to age progression. We are not on this linear, upwards trajectory. We have our wobbles and can recognise that the wobbling is often when we grow the most.
You are all special but you would never try to stunt someone else’s specialness in the hope of progressing yourself.
To me, you are like the list of all my favourite movies. You are so perfectly unique and I will always come back to you again and again and again. There’s just something about you.