There’s a certain type of way that people think about girlhood. It’s soft and quiet, a little delicate. It’s that night with the girls, coordinating pajama colors, chatting in low tones, and hair so nice it looks like you just came out of a salon. Of course, these little things did happen for me, too. But the truth is, my version of girlhood at home was quite different; noisy, disorganized, and simply authentic.
I grew up surrounded by women, and nothing about it was ever subtle, and that’s something I would never change.
Even though it was not always silent, our home was full of life. Oddly enough, there were never fewer than three people talking at the same time; everyone had their own strong point of view, and the discussions grew. Nobody ever said that “silencing the peace” is the same as silence.
After arguing, laughing, and crying for some time, we were back at each other as if nothing had happened. The way I see it, hiding one’s feelings is not the right thing to do. Instead, we should make a point of expressing them fully. If you were upset, everyone realized. If you were happy, everyone shared the feeling.
Makeup disappeared and was found in different drawers, clothes were swapped, and someone constantly knocked on the bathroom door to ask about how long you would need. Loneliness was not a thing at all; however, in the other homes, the concept of personal space was hardly anything at all. It was kind of a nice feeling to know that somebody was always around, even if they happened to snag your favorite hoodie without asking.
But beyond the chaos, there was something deeper happening, something I didn’t fully understand until I got older.
Living with women made me realize that some of my biggest lessons about strength came from less obvious ways. Big, dramatic scenes were not the only sources of strength; everyday stuff was the major source. Seeing the ladies in my family going on with their struggles despite everything is one of those tiny things that really made me feel strong inside.
Another aspect that enhanced the feeling was their great ability to come to each other’s aid like a fall wind, no words needed. At my place, strength was not synonymous with a person’s inability to be broken. It was more about being truthful, tough, and at the same time, loving.
Girlhood, for me, wasn’t about fitting into a mold; it was about expanding it.
It meant learning that femininity could be loud. That it could take up space. The point was, a thought doesn’t have to be whispered or perfectly expressed to be valid. It’s messy hair, interrupted conversations, and emotions. I was getting confidence from the ladies near me until I could hold my own.
Now, being away from home, I notice the difference more than ever. Some spaces feel too quiet when I’m used to noise, to energy, to the kind of presence that fills a room without trying. While I’ve learned to appreciate the calm, a part of me will always crave the chaos of my family.