My beloved daughters,

Another school year is coming soon—Grade 12 for one of you and Grade 8 for the other. You know that back-to-school is hard for me. I like it better when we are together! I like the slow mornings, the family dinners, the ridiculous conversations, and simply knowing where you are. Sending you back out into the world always feels a little like letting go before I am ready.

But as I think about sending you both back into the halls of middle school and high school, I find myself thinking about what it means to be a girl growing up right now.

As you know from our conversations while touring England, I have been thinking a lot about history, colonization, power, and how hard it is to be a woman. That feels especially true in our current cultural and political moment, when women’s rights are being challenged, sexual predators are protected and empowered, and there are people loudly insisting that a woman’s place is simply at home, raising children.

These days, it takes a particular kind of courage to be a woman.

I wish I could tell you that the world will always recognize your worth. But you both already know that it won’t. I wish I could tell you that because you are smart, capable, kind, creative, hardworking, and full of promise, the world will naturally make room for you. You know that won’t always happen either.

There is a strange and painful contradiction in raising daughters: I am raising you to believe that you can do anything while knowing that you are growing up in a culture that will often work very hard to convince you otherwise.

You will be told to be confident, but not intimidating. Beautiful, but not vain. Strong, but not difficult. Ambitious, but not threatening. Independent, but still accommodating. Opinionated, but only when your opinion makes everyone else comfortable.

You will be told to take up space—and then criticized when you do. You will be told to use your voice—and then called loud or bossy when you actually use it. You will be encouraged to dream big—and then reminded that some dreams are still considered too big for women.

And you will see this at school. Middle school and high school can be hard places to be a girl. Everyone seems to be watching everyone else—what you wear, who you sit with, who you like, who likes you, how you look, what you post, what you got on the test, whether you made the team, whether you were invited.

Some days it may feel like your entire life is being measured by other people’s opinions. Don’t let it be.

There will be friendships that are wonderful and friendships that hurt. Someone may exclude you, talk about you, or decide you’re not cool enough, pretty enough, funny enough, interesting enough—or that you’re simply too much. Please remember: none of those things are a measurement of your worth.

I am not raising you to be pleasing. I am raising you to be whole. I am not raising you to be quiet. I am raising you to have a voice. I am not raising you to wait for permission. I am raising you to know that you belong. 

Your body is yours. Your mind is yours. Your voice is yours. Your future is yours. Your boundaries are yours. No boy, friend, teacher, boss, or stranger gets to convince you otherwise.

And when the world tells you to be smaller, don’t shrink yourself to make someone else comfortable.

Be smart. Be ambitious. Laugh loudly. Care deeply. Have opinions. Ask questions. Speak up. If you are passionate about something, don’t apologize for caring about it.

This year, I want you to stay kind. Stay curious. Stay compassionate. Laugh until you can’t breathe. Make ridiculous inside jokes. Go to dances. Cheer for your friends. Try things you’re terrible at. Make mistakes. Get embarrassed. Recover. Enjoy being young.

And please remember: you don’t have to earn your worth. Not through grades, appearance, popularity, relationships, accomplishments, or being the girl everyone likes. You were worthy before you walked into your first classroom. You are worthy today. You will be worthy every day after that.

While you’re figuring out who you are, help other girls figure out who they are, too. Make room. Invite the girl sitting alone to sit with you. Stand up for the girl being mocked. Don’t participate in gossip just because everyone else is doing it. Don’t tear another girl down because you’re afraid she is prettier, smarter, more popular, or more successful.

There is room for all of you. We need to make room for each other. Another girl’s light does not make yours any dimmer. Be the girl who cheers when another girl succeeds. Be the friend who tells the truth kindly. Be the person who notices when someone is struggling. Be the girl who makes other girls feel safer, not smaller.

And learn to recognize the people who want you to become more yourself—not less. Those are your people. Keep them close.

I know this is a lot for a back-to-school letter. But suddenly, you are grown up. One of you is beginning your final year of high school, and one of you is beginning hte final year of middle school. You are standing at two very different doorways into the women you will become–the women God is creating you to be!

I am so proud of you. I am also a little scared. I’m scared because I know the world will not always be kind to you simply because you are women. In fact, sometimes the world will be cruel to you because you are a woman. I’m sorry for that. I really thought the world would be different by now.

But I don’t want you to be afraid of the world. I want you to be ready for it.

So go into your classrooms this year with your heads up. Learn everything you can. Ask questions. Speak up. Stand up for yourself. Stand up for each other. Let your curiosity make you fearless. Let your intelligence challenge people who underestimate you. Let your kindness be powerful. Let your laughter be loud. Let your dreams be enormous. Let others see God’s light in you.

And please, please enjoy this year. Make memories. Take the pictures. Go to the football games. Stay up too late talking with your friends. Study hard, but don’t study so hard that you forget to live. Try something new. Be silly. Be young.

And text your mom.

Remember that you are worthy. You are strong. You are loved.

Go be strong, my girls—not because you have to be strong every minute, but because I want you to know that you can be.

I love you. I believe in you. I am proud of you.

And I am so, so glad you are mine.

Love, Mama