Reflection #3: 06/04

An Ode to Women 

Ninety percent of those I interact with daily are women: las hermanas, las profesoras, las estudiantes, mis amigas. In being so completely surrounded by them, my appreciation for my own sex has profoundly increased. Saint Teresa of Ávila once declared that she desired her convent to be a home where “all must be friends, all must be loved, all must be held dear, all must be helped.” How perfectly the sisters I live with embody this spirit. They are always looking out for one another—and for me. Sometimes in small ways, such as noticing the foods I like and going out of their way to buy them. Sometimes in larger ways, such as helping me find time with a very busy priest so that I could go to confession. Gabby taking me along on her walks when she discovered that I, too, love walking. Ro getting me an alfajor for the long bus ride to Buenos Aires. Grace helping me translate. Mariana inviting me to a garden party. These women show me daily acts of kindness. I believe it is often easier to give kindness and aid than to receive them, but here I have begun to learn how. It is in the small moments that the women here most clearly reveal their kindness, empathy, and strength. At a school dance, it quickly became obvious that I knew no one and had no idea how to dance in the local style. A large group of girls grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. I did not stop dancing the entire night, and I never once found myself alone. These girls were not including me simply because I was the American visitor. They were including everyone—from the socially awkward to the popular. And they were genuine. There was no teacher forcing them to “be nice,” no trace of self-righteousness on their faces. They were simply kind young women looking out for one another.

Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross once wrote: “Of course, woman shares a basic human nature, but basically her faculties are different from men; therefore a different type of soul must exist as well. Since the fundamentals of the typically feminine spiritual attitude are quite familiar to us, we will trace it only very briefly. Woman naturally seeks to embrace that which is living, personal, and whole. To cherish, guard, protect, nourish and advance growth is her natural, maternal yearning.” Her words—“cherish,” “guard,” “protect”—are often associated with masculinity. Yet they are equally feminine. A mother bear, after all, is universally recognized as fierce and formidable, not one to be trifled with. There is a strength in women that is often overlooked, and the women I have met here possess it in abundance. Last weekend, we visited an impoverished village to distribute food. The women there had learned how to make a way where there seemed to be no way. Despite lacking running water and reliable electricity, despite limited resources and the immense responsibility of caring for numerous children, they rose each day and persevered. I was awestruck by both their resilience and their kindness. I was an outsider who did not speak the language, yet they greeted me with hugs and kisses on the cheek. They thanked me, made conversation with me, and welcomed me with warmth despite my broken Spanish. Their circumstances could have made them bitter or guarded, but instead they chose generosity. In them, I saw a strength that was not hard or domineering, but steadfast, life-giving, and deeply rooted in love.

Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth, is known by titles such as “Terror of Demons” and “Queen of Martyrs.” Growing up, I mostly saw her as meek and gentle—kind, certainly, but not strong. Yet these titles, along with contemplation of my Blessed Mother and years of praying the rosary, have shattered that perception. What strength our Mother possessed. Not only emotional strength—watching her beloved Son be tortured, mocked, and crucified—but physical strength as well. She carried Our Lord in her womb, brought Him into the world, and raised and nurtured Him. While physical strength is often associated with men, it is not foreign to women. Women bear extraordinary burdens throughout their lives, and they do so with remarkable resilience. While some women are physically stronger than others, all possess a strength and dignity that cannot be ignored. Daniela, one of the sisters at the convent in Buenos Aires, embodies this truth. She loves working out, basketball, hoodies, and sweatpants. She rarely wears makeup and usually throws her hair into a messy ponytail. Yet she is unmistakably feminine. Women, particularly Catholic women, can sometimes feel pressure to fit a certain mold: long skirts, beautiful hairstyles, delicate and small. But God did not create us as copies of one another. He created each woman uniquely, and He created each woman beautiful. Daniela's beauty radiates from within, and her joyful personality magnifies the love of God.

Through my time here, I have come to appreciate the unique power and beauty of women. More attuned to the emotional lives of others, women often possess a remarkable ability to make people feel at home. Last week, I met an elderly woman in the kitchen while she was cooking. She greeted me with a smile so warm it felt like a hug. She called me beautiful. She called me mi amorita—my little love—with such genuine affection that, for a moment, it felt as though I were her granddaughter. This is a power women possess: the ability to use their strength not for domination, but for love. Working with children, I have tried to embody this myself. It is often exhausting, but it is deeply rewarding. Recently, I came across a quote claiming that every action is either “an act of love or a cry for love.” The more I reflect on it, the more true it seems. I want to bring the love of God—and the love that has been shown to me—to every person I encounter. When I slow down and truly focus on the person in front of me, I begin to understand why God made me the woman that I am. He has given me gifts meant to be shared. I am meant to use them to imitate the women I admire, the women I have met here, women whose strength reveals itself not through power alone, but through love.