It’s always a good day to celebrate the amazing humans in this world who identify as women.
To the mothers and the grandmothers, the daughters, the nieces, the aunties, and the sisters. To the trans women, the cis women, the skinny, the fat women. To the bleeders and the breeders, to the solo flyers and the dreamers. To brown and black women, Asian and Latinx women. To Indigenous women all over the world.
To the women who work in offices and to those that farm or teach the children or heal and care for the sick and dying. To the women who clean up after other people and to the ones who make art; the ones who sing on stages or in their own showers. To the women who peer through microscopes and create new ways of seeing the world and to those that agitate for justice, for fairness, for new ways of being in the world.
To the ones who love their bodies and those whose bodies cause pain: psychic, physical, emotional, complicated pain. To the women who love women or men or both or neither or the ones who are most happy opting out of the binary altogether. To the ones who find love elusive and mystifying and to the ones whose greatest loves have gone.
To the strugglers and the stragglers; the ones who have no idea what they’re doing or why. To the quiet ones and the ones you can’t miss; to the ones who get up early and those who stay awake late into the night. To the nail-biters and the nervous-stomach havers; to the clean livers and the hard drinkers. To the dancers and the weepers.
To those still waiting to become the women they know they are meant to be.
I see you and celebrate you.