I come from a family of women.
Quite literally.
The fathers and grandfathers killed in World War I.

Three generations of women left alone to fend off WWII.

My grandmother, the only one with an anchor. One man. My grandfather.
She was the only child, then my mother, now I.

We are all women.

Strong and weak. Independent and co-dependent.

How do you take that out of the generations?
And where do you begin to understand?
Obscure lines.

A fighting spirit. A femininity intertwined with a masculine spirit.

One cannot undo that.
It is in the blood.

It dawned on me today, that the fight in me is in the generations.

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