The time I was proudest to be a woman
Was not at a sleepover or a girls’ night out
It was in a public bathroom in the Istanbul airport
Surrounded by dozens of other women
Speaking, laughing, sighing
A normal part of life amidst the chaos of international travel
Women wrangled children, telling them to wash their hands
Some women took off their hijabs for a moment
They adjusted their sweaty, messy hair, just like I had done
Splashing water on their faces and feet to cool down in the summer heat Talking to their friends and family in languages I don’t know
Just by virtue of being a woman I was allowed to see their hair
Even if they never glanced my way
We were packed together in line for bathrooms that thousands had passed through Yet we were all women, and because of that we were sisters