RGS Writes

Because womanhood is not about becoming what the world wants,
it’s about becoming who you truly are.
A rose that blooms on her own terms,
with thorns that remind everyone, she is not to be handled lightly.

They’ll tell you to be softer, but not too soft.
To be strong, but not intimidating.
To dream, but only within limits they set for you.

That’s the contradiction of being a woman in this world,
society will always try to shape you into something more convenient,
more acceptable, more comfortable for others.

But the most powerful women were never the ones who fit in.
They are the ones who feel deeply, yet stand unshaken.
Who carry grace in their hearts and resilience in their bones,
soft enough to love, strong enough to walk away.

They choose themselves, again and again,
even when the world expects them to choose everything else.
They silence the noise, ignore the rules that shrink them,
and focus on building a life that feels like their own.

Today, I was sitting with my mother. We were talking about ordinary things, nothing special, when I casually said that when I become rich, I’ll do this or that. She looked at me, smiled softly, and asked why I kept saying that.
“Meri bacchi,” she said, “why do you talk as if you are not rich already? You can buy whatever you want. You can go wherever you wish. You are earning. Still, you believe you are not rich.”

In that moment, I had no words. I just looked at her and realized how different her idea of wealth is from mine.

She comes from a home with eight siblings, a life where dreams were adjusted to fit necessities, where wanting something didn’t always mean getting it. She didn’t grow up with abundance, yet she never carried bitterness. She learned to be content with little, to smile even when things were heavy. She never complains. She keeps working even when her body asks for rest. Every day, she wakes up early for us, quietly putting herself last without ever saying so.

To me, wealth once meant money, comfort, and freedom. But to her, wealth looks different. Maybe it is seeing her child live a life she never could. Maybe it is watching me choose, move freely, and dream without fear. Perhaps my independence is the richness she prayed for all along.

She may think she didn’t have much, but she gave us everything: strength, patience, love, and a heart that knows how to be grateful even in scarcity.

If wealth is measured by what we give, then my mother has always been the richest person I know.