In you I was afraid of losing me Losing me in The shallows of your blues Losing me in The baby-powder softness of your skin Losing me in The southern cadence of your speech Losing me in The velveteen of your touch Losing me in The sweet nothings that fell from your lips
I am not the girl I used to be I am a woman now A bit weathered and worn But wiser than my youth
I know better now Than to fall for the guise Behind the shallows of your blues Where deceit and turmoil lie I know all too well How faux-powered soft skin And a velveteen touch Can turn abrasive over time And how the cadence of speech Can turn harsh and abrupt Disturbing the flow of my peace I know that sweet nothings Are just that… Nothings Empty words surrounded by dead air
No, I will not lose myself in you I will leave that to The young and naïve To the young and restless To the desperately despaired Because I am a woman now A bit weathered and worn But wiser than my youth
We sleep in the same bed like strangers sharing a bus ride— eyes forward, hands careful not to touch. Your breath is weather I no longer feel, warm air passing over glass. Conversation clinks like dishes stacked wrong, too loud, too thin, every word chipped at the edge. I taste distance in my coffee, bitter, cooling before I remember to drink. Love here is a radio between stations, static filling the room where music used to live. I press my ear to your chest for proof, hear only the echo of my own wanting. Even silence feels crowded now, and I am lonely with someone beside me.
They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry. They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous They fight for what they believe in. They stand up for injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution. They go without new shoes so their children can have them. They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally. They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards. They are happy when they hear about a birth or a new marriage. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They have sorrow at the loss of a family member, Yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart. Women come in all sizes, in all colors and shapes. They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world spin! Women do more than just give birth. They bring joy and hope. They give compassion and ideals. They give moral support to their family and friends. Women have a lot to say and a lot to give. This has been sent to you from someone who respects you as a woman Pass it along to your woman friends to remind them how amazing they are............ IT'S BEAUTIFUL WOMEN MONTH! IT’'S GOOD TO BE THE WOMAN. We got off the Titanic first. We can scare male bosses with mysterious gynecological disorder excuses. Taxis stop for us. We don't look like a frog in a blender when dancing. No fashion faux pas we make could ever rival the Speedo. We don't have to pass gas to amuse ourselves. If we forget to shave, no one has to know. We can congratulate our teammate without ever touching her rear. We never have to reach down every so often to make sure our privates are still there. We have the ability to dress ourselves. We can talk to people of the opposite sex without having to picture them naked. If we marry someone 20 years younger, we're aware that we look like an idiot. There are times when chocolate really can solve all your problems. We'll never regret piercing our ears. We can fully assess a person just by looking at their shoes. We can make comments about how silly men are in their presence, because they aren't listening anyway.
This piece is most commonly known as “This Is to the Woman,” and it is widely attributed to Tiffany Dufu.
Important context
The text has circulated online for years—often shared during International Women’s Day or Women’s History Month.
Like many viral prose poems, it is frequently reposted without attribution, leading to confusion and occasional misattribution.
Tiffany Dufu, an author and leadership advocate, is the most consistently cited original source, particularly in early blog and social media publications connected to women’s leadership and empowerment spaces.
About the piece
“This Is to the Woman” is a prose poem/manifesto celebrating the emotional labor, resilience, contradictions, humor, and unseen strength of women. Its power comes from accumulation—line after line affirming complexity rather than perfection.
The forest and I know each other very well. It has learned the sound of my footsteps and when to go quiet for me. I have learned how its light changes before rain, how the air thickens when it wants to speak. We recognize each other without names.
I have given it my secrets in pieces—breath, tears, the steady ache of waiting—and it has kept them without asking for more. In return, it has shown me how to stand still without disappearing, how to lose what hurts and still remain rooted. When I am heavy with thought, it carries the weight in its shadows. When I am hollow, it fills me with birdsong and the slow patience of trees.
The forest does not rush me. It knows that some truths take seasons to say. When I leave, it does not follow, but it remembers. And when I return, it opens itself again, as if I have never been gone.
My Life In Word 