It never struck me as something that I should specially celebrate,
being a woman. I’ve been one every day of my life, as far as I know. I’ve grown
up mimicking my older sister in all the things she’d say and do and my mum was
a constant presence guiding me through every day.
When I became a teenager I started emailing my auntie, to
keep my Serbian written skills strong and because I love the woman so much that
it was worth emailing her in a language that was starting to become hard for
me.
Every fortnight my mum would put me on the phone to have a
quick discussion with my ancient grandmother, who had well outlived my
grandfather and who I never had the chance to meet. She’d always tell me I was
doing well, despite how horribly my schooling was going, and that she loves me
more than anything.
I remember her telling me how she used to break into her
school gymnasium when she was little so that she could play on all the equipment
and she thought that story was one link we had. Our rebellious natures and of
course that she had watched me clamber through the playground every day of my
early childhood.
It wasn’t until I started to have discussions with my
friends about boys and boyfriends and what we want in a partner that I started
to realise that some of the girls around me were foreigners, total aliens. They
had these concepts of life and love that I didn’t understand. Some of them
wanted a rich boyfriend, who’d buy them lots of stuff, another one mentioned a
guy who was smart enough that she didn’t need to finish maths at school – a man
who would do her bills for her. The idea of anyone providing for me other than
myself repulsed me at the time and I thought men that did just maths were
pretty boring.
Now I understand the appeal of both of things mentioned
above, money is always nice and people can’t really help it if they somehow
wind up rich – also I was one of the girls that dropped maths in year 9 and
would love it if Fabian could swoop in and figure out our money qualms but,
well, he dropped maths shortly after I did.
What I realised as I got older was that I had very set ideas
about being a woman and it was because I had been raised in an environment
where I was completely surrounded by and was learning from very powerful women.
Every single woman in my family and in our family friends circle were powerful women. They were strong, wilful,
intelligent, fierce, in my grandmothers case they were pioneers. In a time when
women were doing nothing much but being housewives with no voting rights my
grandmother was shaping a professional career for herself, much thanks to
communist Serbia.
These women were opinionated and, as in the case of my mum,
some of them were the sole bread winners for their families. This wasn’t
intentional, my mum wasn’t a single working mother to teach me the importance
of independence – but by sad fucked up chance, that’s exactly what happened. My
father died and left my mum on the wrong side of the planet with no family
barely any friends and speaking a language she wasn’t as proficient at as he
was.
I watched her struggle. I watched her work 6 days a week.
Saw her raise us, look after the house and have rowdy get togethers with her
friends that would leave wine glasses and dishes piled ceiling high the next
morning. I watched her and I learned, I learned how to be capable, strong, resilient,
intelligent, a fighter and I learnt how to survive.
My sister kicked every goal put in front of her and paved a
path for me to follow that I frequently stumble from. I saw her succeed at
school with amazing grades, be belle of the ball, have a strong supportive
friendship group and achieve just about everything she ever set her mind to.
She did this and still somehow found the strength to look after me every day
when she got home from school and with no trace of resentment I’ve ever managed
to discern.
This post about the strong women in my life wouldn’t be
complete if I didn’t mention the men. Without the men in my life the strong
women wouldn’t be here. My father who married a woman as headstrong as my mum,
who loved having 2 daughters above all else, who passed on his love of reading
and study to my sister and I and who was courageous enough to marry into a
family so dominated by the kinds of women I mentioned above.
The friends my mum was surrounded with were equally male as
they were female, they were feminists – men who would argue and shout at the
women in their midst, not to frighten or subdue them but to defend themselves
and to engage in the fierce arguments and discussions that gripped their circle
of friends every couple of nights.
Men who treated their wives and daughters with reverence,
respect, love and as equals – so much so that I never understood the whole
point of celebrating International Women’s Day.
I surround myself with men and women who are like this every
day of my life. My friends, my amazing partner, my family and my colleagues –
and I’d like to thank you, for making me proud to be a woman and to be the
woman I am today.
Happy International Women’s Day.
