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I wrote this on an International Women’s Day, some years ago now.
I remember why far better than I remember when. I had grown tired of the shape of the day itself - the posts, the discounts, the one morning a year when the world remembers to say something kind, and then goes quiet again until next March.
That is not what a woman is. A woman is not an occasion.
Every day is her day. Not a date on a calendar. Every single day, to love herself and to value herself, as one of the great contributors to God’s creation.
So I did not write a tribute. I wrote this to her, and I am writing it to you.
“For you, the woman that smiles while crying. Be Happy every day of your life.
Being a part of the human race has been a great honor.
Together next to each other to grow, to make a better world, Together!
There is no day but a day to recognize how big you are. To carry a human inside? To let him get inside your hart? To taste the flowers of your body, to feed his ego until he needs to come back. To you?.
To let him get out without breaking you apart? To you. Woman. How smart you’re to help him believe he is a bright brain. And share his happiness while You, the creator! Step back to contemplate a light you have brings to life”.— Kalent Zaiz
Read it slowly. It is not a comfortable poem, and it was not meant to be.
It is about what it costs to carry a life. What it costs to make room inside yourself for another person, to feed someone else’s belief in himself, and then to step back - quietly, without applause - and look at the light you brought into the world.
Women do that constantly. In their homes, in their work, in rooms where nobody records it. And then a day arrives in March and we are handed a flower for it.
You do not need the day. You need to know, on an ordinary Tuesday in the middle of an ordinary year, that what you are carrying has weight and that you are its creator.
For those who got to know me, you might know that I have the skill of painting too. Some people call this a talent. But in America, it is called an extra skill. I’m glad to have it.
Painting taught me the thing this poem is really about: you make something, you put it down, and you step back far enough to finally see it. Most women never step back far enough to see themselves.
Do it today. Not in March.
— Kalent Zaiz, Founder and Editor-in-Chief, KZAIZ Magazine
Copyright 2026 Kalent Zaiz / KZAIZ Magazine. All rights reserved.
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Copyright 2026 Kalent Zaiz / KZAIZ Magazine. Todos los derechos reservados. Ninguna parte de este artículo puede ser reproducida, traducida, distribuida ni utilizada de ninguna forma, total o parcialmente, sin el permiso previo por escrito de la autora.