Nothing about my upbringing made me strong. On the contrary, I was raised as a girl, expected to someday become a woman - with everything that entails.

All the little things that go unnoticed in daily life, the subtext in everything society tells women: That it’s important to have a man. To be sexy. To never outshine a man intellectually. To settle for second place. To have a career - but still run the household. To be twice as good and earn less. To give it all up for the kids.

Yes, we all know this. We’ve read about it, talked about it. But when you grow up being treated a certain way - not because someone is cruel, but simply because this is how the world sees you - it’s not just information. It’s reality. When every comment, every expectation, every glance carries the unspoken message: You are less. Not quite enough. Not like a man. It shapes you, long before you have the words to push back. And unless you’ve lived inside that - especially during the years when your sense of self is still forming - it’s almost impossible to understand just how deep it goes. It doesn’t feel like bias. It feels like truth. Inescapable.

I made myself strong. I learned to refuse this truth, and I’m still learning.