My feminism didn’t start as a label I wanted to wear, Like those girls who knew they didn't "like" the system. It started as discomfort, like grit under my skin. It started when I read Second Class Citizen by Buchi Emecheta in a little later at junior school three, and saw how a woman’s entire existence could be bent and bruised around what men wanted, expected, and demanded. That was the first crack I noticed in the system, a system I’d always been taught was “normal.”

Then I read Tomorrow I Become a Woman. Then We Were Girls Once. And each book ripped the thick blindfold a little further off my eyes and I began to realize that the things women endure (because a woman is praised for how much she can endure). They’re part of a pattern.

Now I’m reading bell hooks, Chimamanda, Mikki Kendall, names I used to hear but never truly listened to. Now I listen. Because I’m searching for a language to express the rage and exhaustion that bubbles under my skin when I hear casual misogyny slip off tongues like it’s nothing.

I’m an angry feminist. And I’m unashamed.

My feminism is taking me places I never planned to go. I volunteered at a TEDXBAZE Event and I watched Women speak, It’s pulling me into conversations I once felt too timid to join. It’s showing me that silence is complicity, and that my voice even if it trembles matters. I’m still figuring out what kind of feminist I am. I know I don’t fit into one perfect box. I love beige, lipgloss, and pink things — but I’m also fierce and unwilling to keep quiet when something feels wrong.

I don’t have it all figured out yet. But I know one thing: I am a feminist.

I Encourage everyone to read A Feminist Manifesto by The Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche.

Today's thoughts.

Lately, I've been rethinking success beyond conventional metrics.

success often emphasizes external validation: accolades, wealth, and status. However, this narrow definition can lead to a void, where the pursuit of more becomes an end in itself. From the writing of Mark Manson.

What if success is not in the accumulation of material possessions or social stature, but in the cultivation of inner depth? Perhaps true success is measured by our capacity for self-awareness, EMPATHY, and resilience.

There is an exhaustion that arises from relentless striving to attain material possession, so rather than striving for an elusive ideal, what if we redefine success?

Perhaps, we may discover that true fulfillment lies not in external validation, but in the wholeness of our inner lives.

In this way, success becomes a fluid, ever-evolving entity – a symphony of moments, experiences, and connections. So what exactly does success mean to you?