A journey not easy yet worth every pubescent step. Winning the war against back-handed compliments, a warrior with quiet power in the moment but not on the defense as actions speak louder than words and success yields more evidence than a retort. I am she. The woman struggling to find herself, trying to make sense of the hard work seemingly going unrewarded, finally biting into the reward- I am she. Never salty but seasoning her speech with to inspire-embolden. She is eleven and happy to be. While the naysayers brag, their bounty is lacking. The loud roar has no bite because it releases instead of a bouquet, a stench of gangrene.
A power source not to be trifled with, rendered from or conquered. I am she. Boardroom voices squelching ideas only to realize later the whispers are from their own insecurity. In a director's realm a calling of silence-I am she because I am not waiting to be called on, I have a voice heard loud and clear from the front of the stage-I am she. Responsive instead of reactive as a mighty butterfly unveiled from its genesis. Reminders of eleven letters telling of a life gaining momentum, a story worth hearing. Worrying not of those that can, but staying engaged and present, recognizing the competition is not even skin deep but a cracked veneer to be broken through, subdued by efforts to rise and stand tall. Not an I.Q., data or statistic-I am eleven and I'm pretty sure I have earned it.
Until next time~