The Audacity of Her
She was taught to bend
before she learned to stand.
To soften every sharp edge,
to carry storms quietly,
to smile through hunger—
not for food,
but for more.
More joy.
More rest.
More life than merely surviving.
She learned early
that good women give—
their time, their sleep,
their dreams folded neatly
into everyone else’s tomorrow.
Be kind, they said.
Be patient.
Be grateful.
And she was.
God, she was.
Grateful enough
to mistake exhaustion for purpose.
Loyal enough
to call settling “strength.”
Quiet enough
to disappear in rooms
where she deserved to be seen.
Until one day—
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a whisper inside herself:
What if I deserve more?
And oh,
how the world trembles
when a woman asks that question.
The audacity.
This woman—
wanting peace without guilt,
success without apology,
love that feels like shelter
instead of survival.
This woman—
no longer shrinking
to fit inside expectations
stitched by people
too afraid of her becoming.
But listen—
She is not asking for too much.
She is remembering.
Remembering that she was never born
to carry everything
and call it destiny.
Never born
to dim herself
so others may shine brighter.
Never born
to mistake sacrifice
for identity.
She is becoming something dangerous now:
A woman who believes herself.
A woman who walks away
from crumbs dressed as love.
A woman who rests
without earning it first.
A woman who dreams
without editing herself smaller.
And yes—
some will call it selfish.
Some will call it change.
Some will whisper,
“The audacity of this woman.”
Let them.
History has always belonged
to women audacious enough
to believe
there had to be more.
So rise.
Take the seat.
Ask the question.
Apply for the role.
Say no.
Say yes.
Begin again.
And if fear arrives,
as it always does—
Walk anyway.
Because somewhere inside you
lives every woman
who could not.
And she is whispering:
Don’t just survive, darling.
Become.
