A Statement on Beauty

Once upon a time, on a trail far, far away from here,

a man told me,

“Every man wants a woman who is beautiful but doesn’t know it.”

I remember stopping—

the air went still for a second.

That sentence landed like dust on sweat,

gritty and sour.

Beautiful, but doesn’t know it.

As if awareness were arrogance.

As if confidence were danger.

As if a woman’s light should stay dim

so a man could feel bright beside her.

As if a woman's belief in herself should stay limited

to protect a man from his insecurities.

Women battle self-doubt from the moment we can walk.

We’re taught to question our reflection,

to make ourselves smaller,

to apologize for our power.

And then—

let someone else tell us what we are:

if we are pretty,

sexy,

funny,

smart,

desirable—

worthy.

Don’t keep women down

so you can be their only source of validation—

that’s not romance.

That’s a control mechanism dressed up as chivalry.

Out there on the trail,

I remembered that every woman

has her own kind of light—

a glow that grows stronger

the more she claims it.

It’s not about dimming or dazzling.

It’s about knowing you were never meant

to walk in shadow.