On International Women’s Day 2026

When I was 18 months old, my family moved to Western Pennsylvania. There was a boy in the house next door to us, 26 months old. Our moms became fast friends which meant we did as well. We were inseparable throughout childhood, racing our bikes around the neighborhood, traipsing through the farmer’s corn fields, and making up our own games with a bucket of chalk or a roll of aluminum foil. 

Coupled with two older brothers and a neighborhood of boys, I was growing up a capital T tomboy. I have a memory of this neighbor having a pool party for his birthday in what would have likely been first grade and his mom asking my mom if I was okay being the only girl there. I remember being confused by the question. They were just my friends. 

I grew up only wanting to do things if my best friend, my brothers, and the other boys in the neighborhood were doing them as well. 

Because of this, I also grew up resistant to anything I deemed feminine. I rolled my eyes at Barbie dolls. I raged against makeup. I wanted to wear Converse to the prom I didn’t go to.

I was in second grade before I can truly remember having a friend that was a girl. Oh there were probably girlfriends in my preschool or in that brief though misguided moment where my mom thought I might be into dance. (Something else I now regret as I actively am trying to learn how to dance as an adult.) But in second grade, I became friends with a girl in my class who has been with me ever since.

As I’ve grown into adulthood, I’ve found myself learning and unlearning my place in the world. I have found myself peeling back the layers of misogyny that were corrosive not specifically in my family but in the world in which I grew up. There is a healing that comes after the necessary breaking.

I remember once, as a child, getting in a fight with my brothers and, when my mom tried to talk me down with an empathetic, “I understand; I also have two brothers,” I shot back, “yeah but you also have a sister and I don’t even have that!” 

That this memory sits so clear in my brain tells me something. If you’d have asked me at that age, I don’t think I would have said I wanted a sister. I was just indifferent to it. I had my brothers and my neighbors and lots of cousins in every direction. But perhaps in that tear-stained moment in my parent’s bedroom, there was some part of me that was able to dig deeper, to acknowledge something I hadn’t realized I wanted, something that every little girl, every big girl, needs—deep, sincere relationships with other women. 

This weekend, I spent hours on a virtual hangout with a group of elementary and middle school girlfriends who are scattered across the country. Some of my oldest friends, including that girl from second grade. I sat there in awe of our stories. Our highs and our lows. The way we show up for ourselves, for each other, for our communities. 

The next day, I went to another friend’s birthday party. We met a couple years ago as adults in New York. At the party, I reconnected with some of her friends I’d met at the last birthday. Smiles and hugs exchanged. Book and recipe recommendations swapped. Compliments, genuine compliments, and love shared.

Have I always been so lucky?

In my early thirties, I find I am frequently embarrassed by the things I think I should be better at—style or skincare or how to do my hair. And in these moments, I find myself leaning on the strong women in my life, beautiful humans who meet me where I am with support and kindness. 

My sisters, if you will. Perhaps not by blood. But when I think about my life I find I have been able to form genuine, deep, sincere, loving, healthy, supportive, positive relationships with so many inspiring, incredible, absolutely kickass women. Whether the cross country teammate who logged endless miles with me or the colleague from that one job I don’t know how we survived—I’ve always had my girls. 

Today is International Women’s Day, a global celebration of the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women. Observed since 1911, the day also serves as a call to action for gender equality.

I could probably write a whole series on the latter. But in this moment, what I most want to do is thank the women who have been by my side—since second grade or since the last couple years. I am a better person, a better friend, a better community member for having all of you as my inspiration. Thank you for continually setting the standard. For lifting others up as you rise. For being our own cheerleaders. Happy International Women’s Day.