It’s the late nineties. I am 13 years old and was unsuccessful in my attempt to attend a high school party (I am not yet in high school).
First, here’s some context:
My parents were so strict that I was not allowed to have a TV in my room nor watch R-rated movies. I even had a regulated, four hours of TV time per week, during which I usually watched TGIF.
My mother cherished the feminist movement and always wanted me to be a strong woman. She cringed when I wanted to be in beauty pageants; she hated the pink and purple clothes I always chose as a young child; and she tried hard to instill in me a desire to be the hero, not the Disney princess. As a young 13-year-old, I rebelled. I put on make-up at school, rolled my eyes, and dressed in outfits that were different from what I left the house in.
So, let’s rewind back to the unsupervised high school party...
There I was, in a large group of teens laughing and enjoying music when a high school senior says, “Yo, someone’s mom is here.” I thought to myself, “My parents don’t have a clue. It could not possibly be them.” A few minutes passed, and the irritated high school kid comes back to me and says, “Yo! Your mom is here. You got to go!”
Wait. What?
I glanced towards the door and the world stopped. I couldn’t hear music, but I could hear my heart beat. I couldn’t remember how to speak, but I was telepathic. My 5’2’’ mother stood in the doorway with screaming, “You are in so much trouble!” without even opening her mouth. She didn’t have to say anything. She just had to make sure I knew, she knew, that I saw her.
I felt like a deer in the headlights. I wanted to run, hide and cry. Witness protection could not save me. I figured, at this point I had a good life and now it was ending. During that slow walk to the minivan, I couldn’t hear the teens snickering. I couldn’t see the scared look on my friend/accomplice’s face. I just knew I was in so much trouble. She, my mom, was in charge. I lost the confidence I had earlier. I walked out of the party with my overdone glittery makeup streaming down my face, dripping onto my carefully selected Spice Girl-inspired outfit. My silver platform tennis shoes left defeated imprints on the snow as I walked up the driveway.
My mother was the most powerful person in the world. At that moment, if she was in a board room, anyone would have sat up straight, listened intently, and caved to any demand. She could have closed any deal, asked for a promotion, and gotten a raise. She had a superpower that she was able to tap into at that moment.
My mother was the most powerful person in the world. At that moment, if she was in a board room, anyone would have sat up straight, listened intently, and caved to any demand. Share on XHow could she hold and demand such a powerful presence as a mother, but go to work the next morning feeling every bit 5’2”, powerless, invisible, unrecognized, mansplained and discounted? How could she turn from Linda Carter to Wonder Woman, from Halle Berry to Storm, from Danai Gurira to Okoye? In character, they are all women with special super powers; how can other women find their own?
I know that women are powerful. I have felt and seen this super strength. In honor of Women’s History Month, I want women to affirm and embrace our super power! Transform yourself into a powerful being when you feel small, discounted, and dismissed. Imagine yourself standing firmly in your snow boots at the door, like my mother did on that fateful night. Step squarely into the threshold of your world—whether it’s a boardroom, a home, a small office, a cubicle—as you power up your strength and own your space, voice, confidence and power.
I know that women are powerful. I have felt and seen this super strength. In honor of Women’s History Month, I want women to affirm and embrace our super power! Share on XThis March, we are all superheroes—just like my mom was that night and always. Happy Super Women’s Month!
Happy Super Women’s Month! Share on X
