I don’t know any woman who hasn’t been to hell and back trying to find comfort in her skin. Who hasn’t obsessed over weight, exercise, food, or looks. Who hasn’t at least once in her life hid her menstruation, curves, sexiness, or beauty. Who hasn’t felt obligated to please another. Who hasn’t shrunk her intuition or intelligence. Who hasn’t been objectified or silenced. Who hasn’t held herself back. Who hasn’t tried to erase life’s inner or outer scars from her vessel. Who hasn’t been judged for her years on this planet or for how good she looks. And I don’t know any woman who just gets over this. Because, for a woman, it’s hard to ignore the power and magnitude her body has—that she has. Because her story is every woman’s story. And despite it all, I don’t know any woman who isn’t worthy of her strength, courage, and imagination. Who isn’t capable of being the high and holy, healing damage control the world aches for right now, by empowering herself.