It takes a Village to Raise a Woman

With so much of our interpersonal communication happening online, it's easy to base our popularity on the number of followers we have on social media. Follows go up and so does our mood. Someone unfriends and we wonder why they hate us. We start to compare our lives with the Readers Digest Condensed Version that others are posting online. Only seeing what they want us to see, we begin to do the same thing. Suddenly, everyone's lives are seemingly perfect or constantly unravelling, depending on their mood.

Judging ourselves and others by "the numbers" sets us up for failure, because relationships were never meant to be quantified. 

I was talking to the incomparable Mama Leisha about this very topic. Just how easy it is to fall into the pit of comparison and how doing so disables us from having real relationships. And this is heartbreaking, because women need women.

I asked a few members of my own village how women have raised them up. Here are a few of their answers…

I've been inspired by women that have shared their talents and abilities with me. When women are willing to give of themselves to help others learn, it lifts everyone up. — Myrna, 77

Knowing there are women I can rely on when I need something is reassuring. They're there for me whenever I need a favor or support. In addition, I've been blessed by random acts of kindness when I've needed them. I'll never forget the women who blessed me with their service. — Shari, 52

Women raise me up every day. I'm lucky enough to work with over 20 women who prove to me that you can balance family, work, and personal development. That just because culture or society say you should or shouldn't doesn't mean you have to live your life that way. Instead, these women pave their own paths and are bold and brave in doing so and give me permission to do the same. — Courtney, 33

Being in Filipino culture, women value our friendship to each other. I have great influence from these women and their traditions. — Marivel, 58

Women can relate to each other in so many different ways. Hearing others' stories of situations they've been in and how they dealt with it and got through it gives me hope and confidence that I will be able to too. — Melanie, 34

We Mormons live in a culture where sometimes going against the norm is discouraged. But I had a Young Women leader let me know that adventure and seeing the world is totally okay, because Heavenly Father is a part of everything and every people in the world, so if I feel adventurous, I should go for it. Ever since I heard that I haven't held back. I've gone and done whenever my heart desired as far as seeing the world. — Sarah, 36

We need each other for support, education, inspiration, and love. Let's make a conscience choice to focus on raising one another, because women need women.

Being Morbidly Chubby

We all have a fat friend and I'm yours! This is my personal PSA to educate the masses on one who has too much mass.

This may come as a shock to you, but I know I'm fat. Please don't pretend like I'm not. I'm well aware of my scale tippage and BMI. So when you hear me comment that I look like I'm "pregnant with septuplets" laugh along with me. And while clothes shopping, when I see an outfit that I'll wear "when I lose an entire person," I actually mean it. I'm really not searching for compliments or people to lie and tell me I'm skinny. I'm just stating facts, be it in a semi-humorous way.

If I said that I really needed a trim because my split ends were bad, would you feel awkward and blurt out, "What are you talking about? Your hair is fantastic! You don't need to lose an inch!" No, you'd either move along with conversation (because talking about split ends is boring) or you say, "Split ends suck." Same thing with being fat. If I'm being frivolous about it, laugh and move on with conversation.

This isn't about fat shaming or skinny shaming or any other kind of shaming. It's about being honest with myself. I own my size. I own my weight. Am I always happy with it? Nope. But is it in my control? For the most part, yes. For me, it's less about worrying about how much matter I have and caring more about how much I really matter.

And my size has nothing to do with that.

To My Daughter

I know what it's like to not have friends. To walk alone on the playground. To be called names. I know what it's like to be excluded from made-up clubs when everyone else is included. I tried so hard to be liked. To be a part of something. Instead I was the scapegoat.

I was the one tormented so others could feel better about themselves. So young girls had something to unify them. 

It sucked.

But you need to be strong, my sweet girl, because you're not alone. There is another little girl out there who knows what you're going through. More than one, I'm sure. You need each other, to lift each other up. To have a friendship that is better than taunts and name-calling. Be better than the "mean girls," because one day they won't be mean. They'll be sad. They may even apologize for everything they've done.

And you'll forgive them…because that's the kind of person you are.

And you'll be their friend…because you're the kind of person they want to be.

The Most Important Lesson I've Learned

I was outgoing when I was very young. My mother said I would ask everyone in the grocery store their name and tell them mine in return. I would stand on tables and sing for anyone who would listen. My mother put me in dance class, likely to fulfill my need to be in the spotlight. I quit when I was 6 because my teacher rotated the front row, my row, to the back. I took it personally and never went back.

My self esteem tended to depend on what others thought of me. My parents, my peers, adults. The older I got, the more I lost my outgoing public persona and saved it for those that I knew liked me for me. Everyone else had to wait for my true self to appear. Looking back, it seems absurd. Allowing someone to see the real me after they knew the real me. Logic escaped me in my youth.

Having friends was very important to me. I always wanted a "best friend" to share secrets and exchange broken heart necklaces with. I was compliant with whatever they wanted to do to ensure we would stay friends. I had no idea how lucky I was to never face peer pressure because I likely would have caved way too often.

I thought the majority of fellow high school students viewed me as shy. I found out later they just thought I was stuck up. That knowledge has helped me try not to judge people based on standoffishness.

I had a blast in college, but was still reserved. It wasn't until I served a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I came out of my shell. And it wasn't because I was away from everyone I knew, knocking on strangers' doors for 18 months. It was from a singular experience about halfway through my service.

Each missionary is assigned a companion to serve with with strict rules to follow. You wake up by 6:30 am, study and shower, preach and teach all day, then are in bed by 10:30 pm. You write your family once a week on Mondays and call them twice a year on Mother's Day and Christmas. There's no TV, no radio, no media from the "world." You have one job — learn about and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We weren't doing that.

My third companion and I had slacked off. We weren't obeying the mission rules and it was getting to me. I had decided to change and try to set a good example for my fellow sister. I thought we were making progress, but when I discovered her in the spare room talking to her boyfriend (also serving as a missionary) on the phone, I lost it. Unbeknownst to her, I stormed outside in anger and disappointment.

The night was beautiful. We lived on a mountain and there were no lights to obstruct the thousands of stars glittering the sky. I had never felt more alone in my entire life. I couldn't trust my companion, I couldn't call my friends or family, not if I wanted to keep obeying the rules. There was only one person I could go to. I sat down, looked to the heavens, and prayed. I spoke to my Father in Heaven just as if he were sitting right next to me. I shared all my frustrations. How alone I felt. How I just wanted to be with someone I could trust. How much I wanted to feel secure and loved. It was then that he shared with me the most important lesson I've ever learned.

"As long as I'm okay with you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

It was a revelation. I didn't have to worry anymore about what I said or did, as long as it aligned with my Father in Heaven. He was already my best friend. He knew the real me because he's known me longer than I've known myself. I was finally free because no matter where I went or who I was speaking to, my best friend was there.

Not to say that I can say and do anything. If I'm mean or gossip, you can be sure He's not okay with it. But I can be crazy and silly or sensitive and honest without worrying about people judging me.

People who know me now would never guess I was shy. I don't have a problem talking to strangers and I speak my mind with love. That night on the mountain changed my life for the better and allowed me to be me.

So just know, from God to you, you're enough. Your inherent personality, whether it's quiet and reflective or loud and attention-getting, it's enough. Just try your darndest to be a good person, then let that be enough.

Allow yourself to be enough.