Growing up, I often wondered if the world would ever understand what it truly means to be a woman. The weight we carry is not something that can be seen with the naked eye, but it’s heavy nonetheless. It’s not just in the challenges we face, but in the strength it takes to endure them.
My childhood was far from a fairytale. Like so many other girls, I grew up in a house where love was not always gentle. My parents, like many before them, had their own struggles. My father, a man who never quite understood how to express love without shouting, made the silence of my mother’s sorrow a constant presence. I learned early on that tears are a luxury, that showing weakness only invites ridicule. There was no room for softness in a world that demanded toughness. But I became tough, too. I had to.
I learned how to survive by simply moving through life. Every day felt like a battle, and yet I pushed through it, trying to shield myself from the constant emotional barrage. But no one saw the toll it took. No one saw the little girl who, at just eight years old, had to make her own dinner while her parents argued in the background. No one saw the girl who cried herself to sleep, only to wake up and put on a brave face.
I didn’t know it then, but that pain would shape me into the woman I am today.
Becoming a woman in this world isn’t easy, but it’s far more difficult when you have to do it all alone. Society tells you that being a woman is about being gentle, about nurturing, about making others feel comfortable in your presence. But they don’t tell you about the immense weight of that expectation. That the world demands you to always smile, always take care of others, always sacrifice yourself. And when you do, no one notices.
I got pregnant in my twenties. It was a time when I thought life would somehow change for the better. The moment I held my baby in my arms, I realized something—there was no turning back. The responsibility of motherhood is not something you can ever prepare for. It’s not just the sleepless nights or the endless chores. It’s the overwhelming pressure to be perfect, to balance everything at once. I still had to work full-time, I still had to keep a home, still had to make sure my partner’s needs were met.
And let’s talk about my partner for a moment. A man who, after working all day, would return home too tired to even throw out the trash. As if his exhaustion was the only kind that mattered. The reality is, we’re not given the space to be tired. We don’t have the luxury to be anything less than everything. You carry the weight of a household, a relationship, your job, and your children all on your own, while society praises the man for simply being there. How is this fair? How is this the way we were supposed to live?
But somehow, I did it. We all do it. Women endure. We endure the hurt, the neglect, the unfairness. We endure and survive because we have no other choice. No one tells you that being a woman is an act of constant survival, but it is. You’re born into a world that expects you to give everything, to do everything, and to never ask for anything in return. It’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming. But we do it, because we are strong. Stronger than anyone can ever imagine.
I don’t expect sympathy for what I’ve been through. And I’m not here to paint myself as a victim. No, I stand here with pride, because despite the weight I’ve carried, I’m still here. I’m still standing. I’m not weak. Women are not weak. We may bend, we may break, but we always rise. We always stand tall, no matter how many times life tries to knock us down.
Being a woman doesn’t mean you’re destined to be weak. It means you’re destined to be stronger than the world gives you credit for. We are the silent warriors, the ones who carry the scars that no one can see. We are the ones who keep this world running, even when the world pretends to forget us.
I am proud to be a woman. I am proud of the scars that tell my story. I am proud of every tear I’ve shed, every sleepless night, and every battle I’ve fought. Because every part of it made me who I am today. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
© 2025 Santiago D.C. Maria. All Rights Reserved.
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