When I was younger, I didn’t have role models who lived to be my age with this much agency, vigor, or health. The women before us carried so much — family, silence, duty, grief. Their strength was often invisible because survival demanded it.

But here we are, the daughters of those women, walking with bodies that still move, voices that still rise, and wisdom that finally has room to breathe. We are not just surviving our change; we are inhabiting it.

There’s a particular kind of power in this season — not the sharp drive of ambition, but the grounded authority of lived experience. The power that says: I know who I am, and I know what matters now.