Standing outside of my daughter’s dance class I overheard a conversation between two mothers. “Right now they both enjoy gymnastics” one began, “But I don’t want them to continue with that into college. I mean, have you seen how BIG those girls are?! I don’t want my daughters to look like that.”

I felt the sting of shame on behalf of those girls – those athletes – even from the distance of not knowing them at all. I wondered of the strength of their bodies; the juxtaposition between explosive power and simultaneous grace. I considered the stark contrast between greatness and smallness; how these two things might ever live in harmony as two sides of the same coin. What is the limitation of our greatness, as women, if we are beholden to a measure of remaining small, slight, confined?

Across cultures and continents, and even nestled handily in the pages of children’s storybooks, are both covert and explicit lessons for girls: be polite, be agreeable, be modest, be sacrificing, be good. Apologize. Don’t need too much. Don’t be too much. Don’t let your light shine too brightly. Stay small.

It occurs to me that inherent in this lessening, quite literally, is the distinction between boundless and bound. What is the relationship between the physical space we occupy and the greater, perhaps boundless, space we might occupy were we not afraid to fill it?

I teach my daughter to take up space. I want her to always use the space required to voice her opinion, without apology; to ask questions without self-diminishment; to confront injustice or aspiration as she’s called. My wish is that she never doubts her relevance, purpose, or mission.

I offer my blessing that she embody her physical, spiritual, and intellectual self. From this place of wholeness her beauty and bounty will flourish. As big and bold as her kindness, creativity, or generosity can be, I want her to fill that space. It’s what is necessary and the truest path to contributing to the world in a meaningful way. We are all hungry for this fire and abundance.