I come from a family of women. They are the strongest people I know; they have experienced some of the worst difficulties life has to offer, and they have overcome incredible loss and personal struggle. I was raised by a family of women, and for this reason, I never grew up with the understanding that femaleness was intrinsically less than maleness, that my goals and aspirations and intelligence were somehow less valuable or less achievable than my younger brother’s.

I come from a family of women who are shamelessly, unabashedly themselves. They have worked harder than anyone I know and are employed in every field under the sun. They refuse to settle for anything less than what they want, a mentality that can be incredibly difficult when you are a woman and a mother. They are the daughters and granddaughters of the toughest and most strong-willed person I’ve ever encountered, and they have raised their own girls under her influence and in her name.

I was born lucky. I was born into a family that understood the tautness of family ties, one which raised me to defend and love my fellow women with all the fierceness I had. My family has not questioned my goals nor suggested I try something else, has never once encouraged me to give up my ambitions. We are a group that intimidates, a spectacle to behold, a matter worthy of a reality television show most times. (Bravo, we’re waiting.)

But these women have been the greatest gift of my life. They have provided me with a foundation for how to love and how to be loved. They have cultivated in me a sense of self that was hard earned and is now cemented into my very being. They made me strong and independent, unapologetically so. They instilled in me an understanding of family that is established upon trust, honesty and a refusal to let things slide if they need to be questioned.

As a cripplingly insecure, quiet, introverted child, growing up in this family was intimidating. They are beautiful, crazy, flawed and complicated; they are honest to a fault, even in moments where honesty may not be the easy choice. But they pulled me out of my shell and showed my that there is no single "right" way to live a life or to be a woman. They taught me that mistakes are made and that faults are simply signs of being human. I was insulated from most of the world and yet amongst them, I found myself and rediscovered a voice that I had stuffed away.

Growing up amongst these women, I have learned that familial love is different from any other love on the planet: there is no fight too great to overcome; it requires putting people above yourself and considering others’ feelings before your own. In a society that tries so hard to forge divisive lines between women, I grew up surrounded by women who proved that standing together is standing strong and that even as we fight amongst ourselves, we must remain a united front everywhere else.

We now have three little girls growing up surrounded by this family of women. I hope to impart upon them the same lessons that my family has taught me -- that to be flawed is to be a person, that your voice is the one thing in the world that is always yours. Although they are entering into a world that is not always kind to little girls or to women, they are surrounded by a group of people that will protect them with everything they have.

As I grow out of my position as the youngest female in our family, I am learning about this overwhelmingly powerful love that has been wrapped around me my entire life. It is not easy to grow up in a world like ours, a world that is harsh and cruel for little girls and women. But when you are surrounded by a family like my own, a family that stands at the gates arm in arm, it makes those growing pains a little bit easier.