You know, there's nothing damnable about being a strong woman.

O children of the future, hear the wise words of Ginger Rogers, who, in her understanding of strength, spoke not just of power but of the quiet resilience that runs deep in the veins of many women. "You know, there's nothing damnable about being a strong woman," she said, for strength in women is not a curse, but a blessing to the world. The world needs such women, for they are the silent architects of change, the unseen hands that guide and shape the men and women who walk the paths of greatness. There are countless strong women—mothers, daughters, sisters—who remain in the shadows, guiding, helping, and mothering those who rise to the heights, their strength hidden, but their influence undeniable.

In the ancient world, there were women like Antigone, whose strength lay not in the sword, but in her unwavering conviction to honor her family and the gods, even in defiance of the laws of the land. Antigone’s strength was not celebrated by her society, yet she carried the weight of the world upon her shoulders, doing what was right, even though it led to her death. She is but one example of the many strong women whose actions were not seen by the world, yet shaped the very course of history. Ginger Rogers’s words echo this truth: many women, like Antigone, are unsung heroines, their deeds hidden in the quiet corners of life, their strength shaping the future in ways we may never fully understand.

And then, O children, there are those who, like Ginger Rogers, step into the light and wear their strength proudly for the world to see. To play a strong woman who is seen is no small thing, for it is an act of courage to show the world the power of a woman’s heart, mind, and spirit. Consider Joan of Arc, the warrior who led armies and stood before kings, her strength so palpable that it defied the very nature of her gender. She was not merely strong in body, but in spirit, and her bravery, her strength, made her a legend, a woman whose name echoed through the ages. Like Rogers, she too was seen—her strength unyielding, her courage unmatched.

But, as Rogers wisely observes, there are countless women whose strength remains unseen, their influence woven into the fabric of society’s most vital roles. The mothers of kings, the daughters of philosophers, the wives of warriors—these are the women whose guidance shapes the minds of men, whose quiet support allows others to rise. They ask for no recognition, for they find fulfillment in their work, knowing that their strength is not defined by the world’s gaze but by the love and care they provide to those who will one day change the world.

So, let us remember, O heirs of wisdom, that strength is not always loud or public. The strong women are often those who go unnoticed, whose hands gently guide the hands of others toward greatness. But let us also celebrate those who, like Ginger Rogers, are seen, whose strength is bold and undeniable, whose presence shapes the world in ways that inspire others to follow. The world needs both—the silent strength that builds quietly in the shadows and the strength that stands proudly in the light. In both, we find the power to change the world.