Strong women

 "Strong women don’t stand in a puddle of excuses and call it a reflection. They look straight at the truth, even when it burns their eyes, and they choose to see clearly anyway. They refuse to shrink so someone else can feel bigger, and they don’t soften their edges for hands that don’t know how to hold them. They walk forward with a spine like a lighthouse and a heart that refuses to flicker in storms.

Strong women don’t play the victim, don’t make themselves look pitiful, and don’t point fingers. They stand and they deal. They have learned that blame is a slow poison that tastes sweet at first and then eats you from the inside out. They would rather swallow the medicine of accountability and heal than sip the syrup of self-pity and rot.

A strong woman can cry without collapsing, rage without ruining, and break without disappearing. She will let the tears cleanse, but she will not let them carve away her purpose. She will let the fire rise, but she will not let it burn down what she is building. She treats emotions like weather: they pass, and she remains.

She doesn’t ask for a smaller mountain; she ties her hair, checks her laces, and starts climbing. She knows that easy roads make soft feet and soft feet blister early. She wants the calluses that come from earning her life, not the soft, borrowed comfort of being carried. She would rather be breathless from effort than hollow from avoidance.

She has learned that applause is rented and integrity is owned. She would rather be misunderstood for her boundaries than beloved for her compliance. She knows the difference between being kind and being convenient. And she is done mistaking silence for peace.

A strong woman can sip coffee in the morning and chaos in the afternoon, and handle both like a boss. She will straighten a room and a rumor in the same breath, not because she needs control, but because she is allergic to nonsense. Her time is expensive and her energy is premium, and she spends both like a grown adult with a ledger, not a child with a toy box. She invests, she does not scatter.

She knows that people will label her difficult when their comfort depends on her shrinking. She lets them talk. She is not a museum for their projections; she is a workshop for her progress. If her shine hurts their eyes, they can blink.

She does not compete with women who do not want to win and she does not chase men who do not want to stay. She refuses to audition for roles she did not apply for. Her love is not a coupon and her standards are not a sale. She is the full price and the sold-out sign.

A strong woman can be soft without being a doormat and fierce without becoming a sword that cuts everything she touches. She knows tenderness is not weakness; it is selective access. She gives her softness to kind hands and her fire to cold problems. She knows when to cradle and when to conquer.

She does not waste time scripting imaginary conversations with people who have already shown her their level. She lives in the evidence, not the fantasy. When a door closes, she doesn’t bruise her knuckles begging it to open; she goes where doors are designed for her key. She is not a miracle worker for someone else’s laziness.

She has a mouth that can bless or blister, and she chooses her words like she chooses her battles: intentionally. If she has to raise her voice, it will be to lift someone, not to lower her standards. If she has to clap back, it will be a period, not a paragraph. She knows that silence can be a strategy and boundaries are full sentences.

A strong woman does not pray for a lighter load; she asks for stronger legs. She feeds her mind with facts and her spirit with faith, then marries the two with action. She understands that hope without hustle is just a nap with pretty dreams. She wakes up and makes it real.

She knows that sometimes the hero is the woman who stopped apologizing for existing. She no longer says sorry for taking up room, for having an opinion, for needing rest, for wanting more. She wears her desires openly, like earrings that catch the light. She treats her yes like a promise and her no like a closed vault.

She has walked through rooms where her name was a rumor and her back was a target. She learned to plant flowers in the dirt that was thrown at her. She turned shade into shelter and gossip into grit. She will not be defined by someone else’s small vocabulary.

A strong woman does not romanticize struggle; she respects it. She can tell the difference between growth and punishment, between hard work and harm. She will leave tables that require her to starve to prove she deserves to eat. She builds her own table and pulls up chairs for those who bring truth, not crumbs.

She is not afraid of being called too much by people who are not enough for her. She is not afraid of being alone, because she is not lonely in her own company. She pours into herself so her overflow is generous and her well never runs dry. She is the friend she needed, the lover she deserves, the leader she wished existed.

Strong women don’t play the victim, don’t make themselves look pitiful, and don’t point fingers. They stand and they deal, and when they deal, they deliver. They pick up the mess, pick up the lesson, and put down the pattern. Then they walk forward with a cleaner story and a louder purpose.

She knows the difference between a setback and a verdict. A setback is a plot twist; the verdict is her choice. She rewrites the script in permanent ink and changes the ending with her actions. She is the author and the main character, and she refuses to be written off.

She holds receipts, not grudges. She files memories, not excuses. She keeps her circle small, her standards high, and her rest sacred. She is a vault of self-respect and a fountain of self-belief.

When she loves, she loves audaciously, because she is not afraid that giving will drain her. She has learned that abundance grows where truth flows. She gives from roots, not from fumes. Her generosity has boundaries, and her boundaries have grace.

She celebrates loudly, because joy is a revolution. She claps for other women like she is the one winning, because in a world that profits from our division, unity is her rebellion. She understands that crowns do not dim in proximity; they shine brighter together. She refuses to be the reason another woman doubts herself.

And when the world tries to test her, she smiles like someone who already studied. She lets results do the talking that rumors try to do. She lets peace do the work that panic wants to do. She lets destiny meet her halfway, because she shows up to meet it.

Strong women don’t play the victim, don’t make themselves look pitiful, and don’t point fingers. They stand and they deal, with a smirk that says try me and a heart that says watch me. They bloom in concrete, they dance in thunder, they build in ashes. They end every chapter with a flourish and begin every morning with a fight song.

So here she is: spine straight, chin high, voice steady, spirit blazing. She is not here to be small, to be sorry, or to be saved. She is here to be sovereign. And if you ask her how she does it, she will say this: I don’t play the victim, I stand, I deal, I rise, and I finish beautifully."

-Steve De'lano Garcia