I don't think a woman has to act like a man to show that she has

"I don’t think a woman has to act like a man to show that she has strength." These are the words of Little Richard, the flamboyant and fearless pioneer of rock and roll, whose life itself was a defiance of convention. Though spoken in his unique style, the saying holds a timeless truth: strength is not imitation but authenticity. A woman’s power does not come from casting away her nature, nor from wearing the garments of another, but from embracing her own essence fully and without fear.

The ancients knew well that every being has its own power. The lion is mighty not because it imitates the eagle, nor does the river need to act like the mountain to prove its endurance. Each reveals its strength by being true to its nature. So too with women. To demand that they act as men in order to be considered strong is to misunderstand strength itself. For true strength arises not from conformity but from the courage to be what one is.

History gives us luminous examples. Consider Joan of Arc, a peasant girl who heard the call of God and led armies into battle. She wore armor, yes, but her strength was not that she acted as a man, but that she carried the flame of her faith with unwavering conviction. She was not great because she disguised herself as something else, but because she revealed the power already within her as a woman. Her courage, her voice, her unyielding belief—these were her true weapons.

Nor must we look only to battlefields. Think of Rosa Parks, who in quiet defiance refused to surrender her bus seat. She did not shout, nor fight with fists, nor wield the symbols of masculine power. Yet her single act of stillness shook an empire of injustice. Her strength lay not in imitating men but in embodying the calm, immovable will of her own spirit. It was the power of truth expressed through dignity.

Little Richard’s words, though simple, echo across time as both defense and challenge. They defend women against the false belief that power has only one shape—that of the male warrior, the male ruler, the male voice. And they challenge us to look deeper: to recognize that strength can be gentle, creative, nurturing, or fierce, and still be strength. For there are many ways to move mountains, and not all require a sword.

The lesson here is clear: never deny your nature in order to be seen as strong. A woman’s strength, like a man’s, shines brightest when it springs from her truth, not from an imitation of another’s role. Each soul is endowed with its own gifts, and to dishonor them is to dim the light of the world. Strength is found in authenticity, and authenticity is the true crown of dignity.

Practically, this means embracing who you are without apology. For women, it means leading, creating, loving, fighting, or building in ways that flow from your spirit, not from society’s molds. For men, it means honoring and respecting strength in all its forms, whether it roars like thunder or whispers like water. And for all, it means remembering that the measure of strength is not how much it resembles another’s, but how faithfully it reflects one’s own being.

So pass on the wisdom of Little Richard: “A woman does not have to act like a man to show she has strength.” Teach it as a reminder that every being carries its own power, and that the world grows dim when strength is forced into imitation. Let the rivers run as rivers, the eagles soar as eagles, the women live as women, the men live as men—and all live as themselves. For in such authenticity lies the harmony of the world, and the greatness of the human spirit.