Why I Write About Women Who Lead Without Permission
Every story I tell carries a piece of my insistence: women do not need permission to exist fully, to speak loudly, to demand space.
I write for the women who were told to shrink until they became unrecognizable to themselves. For the ones whose voices were silenced—not because they had nothing to say, but because their truth unsettled the comfort of others. For the ones who dared to defy expectation and paid a price for their audacity.
I write because their stories matter. Their courage must be recorded. Their truth must be affirmed in a world that still measures women by how quietly they can exist.
To write is to insist on visibility. To say, I see you. I hear you. You belong.
And to insist is to create possibility—not only for the women whose stories I tell, but for the ones who will come after, searching for a reflection of themselves in a world that too often looks away.
