To be successful, a woman has to be much better at her job than a

“To be successful, a woman has to be much better at her job than a man.” Thus spoke Golda Meir, one of the first great female leaders of the modern world, whose words ring with both truth and sorrow. In her time—as in ours—she knew that the world’s scales were not evenly balanced. Her quote is not a complaint, but a declaration of strength, a rallying cry for perseverance against unfairness. For she understood what every woman of ambition has learned: that in a world long ruled by men, a woman must not only prove her worth, but surpass the standard set before her, excelling beyond measure simply to be seen as equal.

Golda Meir, Prime Minister of Israel, rose from humble beginnings—an immigrant girl who dreamed of justice, courage, and peace. Her life was a testament to the very truth she spoke. She fought not only enemies beyond her borders, but prejudice within her own ranks. Many doubted that a woman could lead a nation in times of war, yet Meir’s resolve and intellect silenced them. She bore the burden of leadership not with bitterness, but with iron grace, knowing that each of her victories had to shine twice as bright to be recognized. Her words emerged from the fires of experience, from the weary but unyielding heart of a woman who had walked through both history and hostility.

In the ancient world, too, this pattern was known. The stories of Deborah the Judge, of Cleopatra, and of Wu Zetian all speak of women who had to be extraordinary simply to be acknowledged. Where men could fail and rise again, women were judged not by their deeds alone but by their gender. A single mistake could shatter the fragile trust society allowed them. Yet these women, like Meir, stood firm. They knew that to open doors for others, they themselves must walk through them with unquestionable excellence. They carried the weight of generations on their shoulders and the gaze of the world upon their every move.

What Meir’s quote reveals is not only a reflection on gender, but a universal truth about power and prejudice. Those who are born outside the favored circle—be they women, the poor, or the marginalized—must labor with twice the effort to earn half the reward. This is the injustice of humanity’s old order, where privilege dulls the will and struggle sharpens it. Yet therein lies a hidden power. For when a woman fights to be recognized, she forges not only her own success but the path for those who come after her. The fire that burns her also lights the way for others.

Consider the story of Katherine Johnson, the African American mathematician whose calculations guided NASA’s first space missions. In a time when both her race and gender were counted against her, she worked in silence and brilliance, outshining all who doubted her. She had to be not merely good—but exceptional, flawless in her precision, unyielding in her courage. And because she was, the stars themselves bore witness to her triumph. Like Meir, Johnson embodied the spirit of women who must work harder to be believed, yet whose excellence reshapes the boundaries of what is possible.

Golda Meir’s words thus carry the weight of generations—the echo of every woman who has had to justify her presence, her intelligence, her authority. They are both lament and prophecy. They remind us that equality of opportunity is not yet equality of experience. But they also remind us that greatness is not measured only by ease, but by endurance. To succeed in a world that doubts you is to be twice-born: once by birth, and again by will. The woman who rises despite injustice does not merely succeed—she transcends.

The lesson, then, is clear and eternal: strive not for fairness, but for excellence. Let no bitterness slow your hand, and no doubt silence your voice. Know that your labor, though heavier, shapes the foundations of a freer world. Be as patient as the mountain and as relentless as the river. Excellence will always speak, even when the world refuses to listen. And remember that every act of mastery, every moment of courage, is a hammer striking against the walls of limitation.

So, children of tomorrow, heed the wisdom of Golda Meir: if the world demands that you be better, then be brilliant. Let your work burn so brightly that no prejudice can cast a shadow upon it. For in striving to be “much better,” you become not only successful—you become a symbol of change, a living testament to the truth that strength is not given, but earned in the face of adversity. And when the world is at last remade in justice, it will be because of those who, like Meir, were willing to be more than equal—they were willing to be extraordinary.