Uniquely woman

You Were Born Without Labels

On October 9, 1980, I was born naked and free.
Given a name, a marker by which every person I’d encounter could identify me.
Everything about me is unique.
There is no one else on this planet exactly like me.

Yes, there may be others who share my name,
But they could never represent it the way that I can.
My name is tied to my purpose, hand in hand.
I was born into this world to be a woman,
A vessel with the divine ability to bring forth life.

I consume seeds.
I incubate them until they are ready to flourish.
And yield harvests.

I was born powerful—
An identity wrapped tightly around every part of me,
Unfolding year by year as my character reveals itself in great depth.

But this identity—tremendous, magnificent, divine
Often becomes silenced,
Stifled by a world eager to castrate what it cannot control.

Because society has rules.
It places titles before identity ever gets the chance to breathe.
And slowly, as we grow, we shift our focus from within to what the world projects onto us.

Mother. Wife. Sister. Daughter. Friend.
Titles that seem noble,
That gives us placement in the world.
But titles that also trap us.

As women, we carry so much.
We shoulder burdens not our own,
We bear expectations,
We give and pour and push
Until there’s nothing left.

We become everything to everyone…
And forget that we are someone.

We forget that even after we’ve cared for the children,
Supported the husband,
Looked after aging parents,
Held up friends
We still matter.

We go home depleted.
We forget to look in the mirror and see a woman of substance.
A deep ocean of creativity lies beneath the surface, waiting.

But we bury that creativity.
We bury it beneath the weight of ensuring our kids’ future,
Uplifting our husbands,
And keeping the world around us afloat.

Then one day, we look up…
And the children are grown,
The house is quiet,
The husband is thriving,
And we’re left wondering

Who am I now?

You’ve poured and served,
Given and sacrificed.
And yet you find yourself with nothing left
No sense of what becomes of your dreams.
Even though you helped others succeed,
You are still an individual.

You were born with gifts.
You carry the necessary tools this world needs.
Even if you were born a twin or triplet
Your DNA is your own.
Your essence is your own.

You are more than a label.
You were not born with titles.
You were born an individual—
Given a name to make great,
To be remembered.
You were born naked,
And allowed to clothe yourself with purpose.

So I ask you:
Who are you outside of the titles?
What makes you special?
What dreams did you have when you were young, before the world handed you responsibilities?
What did you whisper to the stars?
What did you write in your journal under the covers at night?

Those dreams still matter.
They are you.
They are seeds waiting to be watered.

You were never meant to just wear titles.
You were meant to thrive from within.
And when you are whole inside, you can balance the attachments outside.

Even if the attachments leave…
Even if they grow distant…
You will still stand—
Rooted.
Grounded.
Flourishing in fertile soil.

You are greater than the labels.
Look within.
Discover YOU.
And give birth again, WOMBman.
Fill this earth with your creativity.

-Velma