A room full of women
Last week I found myself standing in the middle of the dance floor at an all-women’s dance party that I hosted in honor of International Women’s Month. The music was pulsing, the space was warm and electric, and for a moment I paused, looked around, and just beamed.
What I saw was a room full of women who felt completely free.
Free to dance sexy. Free to dance silly. Free to dance badly, gloriously, wildly without a single shred of self-consciousness. At one point I even saw a woman drop to the floor and do “The Worm” without hesitation. Women were laughing, sweating, throwing their hands up in the air, singing along to songs they hadn’t heard in years. Friends dancing together. Strangers becoming friends.
There were women who had come by themselves.
And that struck me, too. They had felt safe enough to walk into a party alone, knowing they would be welcomed, knowing they would not feel awkward or out of place. By the end of the night, many of them had forged new friendships.
At one point in the middle of the dance floor I overheard someone say, “Put your bag down, girl. It’s all women here. Nothing’s going to happen to your stuff.”
Being a woman is not a limitation. It is a unique kind of power. Women carry a wisdom, an intuition, a deep knowing that is profoundly needed in this world.
And somewhere on the other side, another laughed and said, “Just put your drink down. It’s only us girls.”
It was such a small moment, but it stayed with me. Because how often do women really feel that kind of ease?
No one was looking over her shoulder. No one was worried about her belongings. No one was hyperaware of who might be watching them, judging them, sizing them up, or worse. There was an unspoken understanding that it was a safe space and that everyone there was looking out for each other.
And when that happens, something shifts. Women relax. Their shoulders drop, their laughter gets louder, their movements become bigger and freer and more playful. Their energy changes completely and they begin to radiate.
I’ve noticed this many times before. At the women’s circles and retreats I host, there is always a moment when someone says, almost with surprise, “My gosh, I haven’t danced like this in years,” or “It’s so nice to just dance with girls.”
Sometimes I jokingly ask myself if the real reason I host these gatherings is simply because I want an excuse to dance.
But the truth is, something deeper is happening in these spaces: When women feel safe, they become free. And when women feel free, they become powerful.
Later that night, when I got home, Scott told me about a conversation he had with a male friend who had heard about the party. The friend had apparently said, “Oh, we should go to Steph’s party. It sounds like target-rich hunting grounds.”
Scott immediately replied, “Bro. That’s exactly why it’s an all-women’s party. They don’t want you there.”
Apparently the point still didn’t land.
His response? “But women want to be looked at. That’s why they dress sexy.”
My gosh. How are we still here?
How is it that even today, educated men, kind men, men who mean no harm, still sometimes struggle to understand that women do not exist to be ogled, sized up, hunted, targeted, or evaluated?
We dress up because it makes us feel good. Because we enjoy beauty. Because we enjoy expressing ourselves. Because dancing in a great outfit with your girlfriends feels amazing.
Not because we want to be someone’s prey.
And yet, even beyond these casual remarks, we see this mentality playing out in public life again and again. Recently, Rep. Bong Suntay made crude remarks about Anne Curtis, objectifying her and speaking about her as though she were public property rather than a woman deserving of dignity and respect. Then, Senator Jinggoy Estrada asked celebrated basketball player Elizabeth Jeannette Means in a Senate Committee hearing if she had a Filipino boyfriend and said he knew a fellow senator, a married man, who could “apply.”
Moments like these reveal something deeper—a lingering belief that women exist only in relation to men and that our value is tied to our desirability, our availability and our relationship status.
Subtle, yet still wholly derogatory.
And it is exactly why spaces where women feel safe matter so much. Because when women feel safe enough to relax, something beautiful begins to happen. They step into their power and begin to shine. And when a woman is radiant, what extraordinary light she brings into the world.
I’ve often thought about what makes women so special. Our bodies themselves tell the story. We carry wombs and breasts—the biological architecture of life and nourishment. Whether or not we choose to become mothers, that sacred design reminds us that women are wired to nurture, to create, to hold community and life itself.
We give birth to ideas. We give birth to communities. We create spaces where people feel seen, held, and supported. We weave connections between people. We hold families together. We create culture. We build tribes.
When women come together, things grow. Connection, creativity, and compassion flourish.
The patriarchy knows this. It has always known this. Which is why, historically, women gathering together has often been feared, discouraged or diminished.
But for a few hours on that dance floor, I saw a glimpse of what happens when women gather freely.
Women encouraging each other and cheering each other on. Women dancing wildly in sneakers, in heels, in athleisure, in dresses—wearing whatever made them feel good. Not dressing for anyone else, just for themselves.
And the room was radiant, electric with possibility and soft power.
It made me think about something else, too.
There was a time when I genuinely felt that it was a waste that I had been born a girl. I remember thinking when I was younger that I would have made such a great man, that if I had been born a boy I could have done great things. I remember wanting to go on big adventures, to travel the world, to take on careers that felt bold and exciting, and somehow believing those things weren’t really meant for women.
I once told a diplomat that I dreamed of becoming an ambassador one day. I was visiting their home in Europe and we were sitting around the breakfast table when he asked me what I wanted to be. I said, very earnestly, that I would love to be an ambassador like him. His response was kind but discouraging. He told me that the life of a woman ambassador could be very lonely, that husbands often didn’t want to follow their wives around the world and that eventually the marriage might fall apart.
And looking back, I realize how much those kinds of messages shape us. That small conversation stayed with me all these years and in ways I didn’t even realize at the time, it influenced the choices I made in university and the paths I believed were open to me. But today I know something different.
Being a woman is not a limitation. It is a unique kind of power. Women carry a wisdom, an intuition, a deep knowing that is profoundly needed in this world. And if I could speak to my younger self now, I would tell her this: It was never a waste to be born a girl.
In fact, what an extraordinary thing it is to be a woman. To create. To nurture. To gather people together and build community. And to watch a room full of women dancing freely and realize that beautiful things happen when we do.
Happy International Women’s Month to all the incredible women out there.
You are powerful. You are radiant. And the world is brighter because of you.
