What Women’s History Month Reveals about Authority
Women's History Month began as a way to set the record straight. And to put authority back into the hands of women.
We all know that for generations, women’s contributions have been minimized, omitted, or just silently absorbed into someone else’s story. The historical record was heavily curated, and much of what women created —their inventions, insights, leadership, artistry — never made it onto the official page.
While politics and control is undeniable, I see something else at work: the hidden psychology behind this blackout of women and their experience.
Much has changed since the 60’s, when women began insisting on correcting the narrative. But we’ve all seen what happens when womens’ voices are minimized. Something subtle but undeniable shifts. Your sense of possibility narrows. Authority begins to feel outside you. It’s not that you consciously think, “I don’t belong in the narrative.” It’s that over time, when you rarely see women recognized as thinkers, creators, and decision-makers, it becomes harder to imagine yourself in those roles.
If we’re not represented, it has a definite influence on what we believe is available to us. And yet — here’s what’s so affirming: women continue to create anyway.
We know women used to write under pseudonyms. They composed in private. They painted, stitched, taught, organized, gathered together around kitchen tables and community rooms. Creative expression has long been known to be more than self-expression. It’s been a way of claiming space when space was limited. A way of saying: I am here. And I have something I want to say.
That insistence on creative expression in the face of anonymity is what’s catching my attention right now.
Because Women’s History Month is not simply about honoring well-known figures. It’s also about authorship—authorship that confers credit and carries important academic, social, and financial implications. Responsibility and accountability for published work. Whose story gets told. And who decides what matters.
And this is where I see an intersection with happiness and creativity.
Happiness, as I’ve experienced it, isn’t a mood that has to be manufactured. Nor is it something to chase or somehow paste on top of difficult circumstances. You naturally feel happy when you’re participating fully in your own life. It’s the alignment between what you know to be true inwardly and how you express that outwardly.
Whatever you create — whether through writing, collage, conversation, business decisions, even the way you structure your day — is a way of practicing authorship. You refuse to be invisible. You give form to your inner life instead of dismissing it.
I see this as a radical act. One worth encouraging.
Because what I see and read is that a subtler form of editing is still showing up: second-guessing, self-doubt, and the need to over-explain. So many times we dilute what we really want to say in order to avoid being challenged. You won’t see those habits won’t appear directly in the wider narrative we’ve been referring to, but they definitely shape the daily lives of women.
Now the good news is that creative expression interrupts that self- defeating pattern we may have internalized.
Whenever you sit down with a journal or sketchbook and allow something to take shape, you’re not asking anyone for permission. You’re not waiting for consensus from anyone else. You’re responding to what’s alive inside you. And in doing that, something important begins to shift. Your inner authority is strengthened. Your sense of what’s possible widens.
In that sense, creative expression is not something to be considered decorative or secondary. It’s developmental in the sense that creative expression doesn’t just produce art. It develops the person who is creating.
The point is not that you need to be famous to be part of women’s history. History is not only what has happened, but also what’s happening now.
You shape the cultural story in small but real ways. For instance, each time you metabolize a difficult emotion instead of trying to make it go away. Each time you trust your intuition instead of defaulting to someone else’s opinion. Each time you make something that reflects your lived experience.
This is why I see a different opportunity in acknowledging Women's History Month.
That opportunity is to ask, “where am I still editing myself?” Where could my own authorship be reclaimed.? To recognize that participation — creative, emotional, intellectual participation — isn't indulgent. It’s generative.
History is unfolding as I write this. And every act of creative expression is a way of stepping into it.
We all know that for generations, women’s contributions have been minimized, omitted, or just silently absorbed into someone else’s story. The historical record was heavily curated, and much of what women created —their inventions, insights, leadership, artistry — never made it onto the official page.
While politics and control is undeniable, I see something else at work: the hidden psychology behind this blackout of women and their experience.
Much has changed since the 60’s, when women began insisting on correcting the narrative. But we’ve all seen what happens when womens’ voices are minimized. Something subtle but undeniable shifts. Your sense of possibility narrows. Authority begins to feel outside you. It’s not that you consciously think, “I don’t belong in the narrative.” It’s that over time, when you rarely see women recognized as thinkers, creators, and decision-makers, it becomes harder to imagine yourself in those roles.
If we’re not represented, it has a definite influence on what we believe is available to us. And yet — here’s what’s so affirming: women continue to create anyway.
We know women used to write under pseudonyms. They composed in private. They painted, stitched, taught, organized, gathered together around kitchen tables and community rooms. Creative expression has long been known to be more than self-expression. It’s been a way of claiming space when space was limited. A way of saying: I am here. And I have something I want to say.
That insistence on creative expression in the face of anonymity is what’s catching my attention right now.
Because Women’s History Month is not simply about honoring well-known figures. It’s also about authorship—authorship that confers credit and carries important academic, social, and financial implications. Responsibility and accountability for published work. Whose story gets told. And who decides what matters.
And this is where I see an intersection with happiness and creativity.
Happiness, as I’ve experienced it, isn’t a mood that has to be manufactured. Nor is it something to chase or somehow paste on top of difficult circumstances. You naturally feel happy when you’re participating fully in your own life. It’s the alignment between what you know to be true inwardly and how you express that outwardly.
Whatever you create — whether through writing, collage, conversation, business decisions, even the way you structure your day — is a way of practicing authorship. You refuse to be invisible. You give form to your inner life instead of dismissing it.
I see this as a radical act. One worth encouraging.
Because what I see and read is that a subtler form of editing is still showing up: second-guessing, self-doubt, and the need to over-explain. So many times we dilute what we really want to say in order to avoid being challenged. You won’t see those habits won’t appear directly in the wider narrative we’ve been referring to, but they definitely shape the daily lives of women.
Now the good news is that creative expression interrupts that self- defeating pattern we may have internalized.
Whenever you sit down with a journal or sketchbook and allow something to take shape, you’re not asking anyone for permission. You’re not waiting for consensus from anyone else. You’re responding to what’s alive inside you. And in doing that, something important begins to shift. Your inner authority is strengthened. Your sense of what’s possible widens.
In that sense, creative expression is not something to be considered decorative or secondary. It’s developmental in the sense that creative expression doesn’t just produce art. It develops the person who is creating.
The point is not that you need to be famous to be part of women’s history. History is not only what has happened, but also what’s happening now.
You shape the cultural story in small but real ways. For instance, each time you metabolize a difficult emotion instead of trying to make it go away. Each time you trust your intuition instead of defaulting to someone else’s opinion. Each time you make something that reflects your lived experience.
This is why I see a different opportunity in acknowledging Women's History Month.
That opportunity is to ask, “where am I still editing myself?” Where could my own authorship be reclaimed.? To recognize that participation — creative, emotional, intellectual participation — isn't indulgent. It’s generative.
History is unfolding as I write this. And every act of creative expression is a way of stepping into it.