The Love Letter I Always Needed

I don’t know the exact moment I claimed the title “strong, independent woman.” I became one not by choice, but by necessity.

Often, a quiet thought whispers inside: “I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to be independent.” But life doesn’t always ask what we want. It demands what it needs. And so, I rise. I get things done.

But still I’m often told, “Wow, you’re so strong. You’re so independent.” I accept it with a gracious smile and a polite “thank you.” I know it’s meant as a compliment. But It is not just a compliment. This celebrated strength is evidence. Proof of a world that did not offer us its shelter. And so, we became our own, to survive.

Which made me ponder and ask myself:

Why are we so rarely called gentle, gracious? Why is our softness not the first thing people see?

We were raised on stories that praised these virtues in women—meekness, softness, grace—as if they were just innate flowers waiting to bloom. But I’ve learned they aren't just innate; they are luxuries. They are the birthright of those who are protected. Cherished. Those given the space to be delicate without fear of being shattered.

So the question lingers: Why this hyper-independence when my heart yearns for a life of qpeace as softness? A life of purpose found not in chasing, competing, guarding but in simply… being.

For me, this independence was forged in specific moments in my life:

· Moving to China completely alone.

· The phone call that my dad had a stroke—while I was at University.

· Watching my parents lose everything… and rebuild again.

Working 2/3 jobs to makes ends meet.

I have worn strength like a shield. Independence like a suit of armor. I believed that was the only way to move through the world. I thought being soft was a space I couldn't afford nor deserved.

Which brings me to now, to this love letter. A love letter not to strength and independence, but to the permission to finally lay it down. It’s the love letter I (we) always needed.

I am slowly learning… that I don’t have to be strong all the time. This isn’t a sign of weakness or surrender. It’s a more a profound understanding: that softness is the ultimate courage.

It is the courage to be vulnerable. To trust. To let your walls down, believing you will not be met with judgment, but rather with care. It is choosing to believe that your softness is a different kind of strength.

So, this love letter is for every woman who has ever been applauded for her strength and independence while her softness went unseen.

Let us create a world for each other where softness is not synonymous with weakness, but with immense trust, courage and hope. Let us remain warriors… but warriors who have the power to finally lay down the armor and to see not just the strength that holds us up, but the softness inside of us that makes us whole.

With all my love.