Labels: The Woman

Mother.

Wife.

Homemaker.

Working woman.

Businesswoman.

Daughter.

Child.

Grandmother.

Sister.

Friend.

So many labels that society places on women day after day.

My story goes back to 2007, when I became pregnant at twenty-two.

We had not planned it.

But we decided to keep the baby and got married.

At Christmas, my first child was born.

And at the same time, the world around me suddenly became much smaller.

Young.

Winter.

Alone with a baby.

Advice rained down on me about what I “should” do and how I “should” behave.

Meanwhile, my friends drifted away.

Suddenly I was alone.

Cook.

Clean.

Raise the child.

After all, I was a mother now.

There was also my husband.

I should keep him.

Remain a woman.

But how?

Today I have two children.

I would never give them up for anything.

But the road to where I am now was very long.

Around four or five years ago, I began working seriously on self-awareness.

During one exercise, a deep wound suddenly opened inside me.

I do not want to be a mother.

I do not want to be a wife.

That hurt.

Enormously.

I felt guilty.

Why could I not simply be grateful for what Life had given me?

Why could I not step comfortably into all the roles people around me were trying to push me into?

Slowly, one by one, I began examining the labels attached to me.

What did each one actually mean to me?

What did it mean to other people?

And if I felt resistance, where did that resistance come from?

I tried every side of myself.

Sometimes I observed how I functioned as a mother.

Other times, how present I felt as a woman.

I learned where I was strong.

And where I needed help.

My perfectionism did not enjoy that realisation.

But today I accept:

I cannot perform every role perfectly.

I cannot satisfy every expectation.

In some places, I too have to ask for help.

That is perhaps the hardest part.

I became a wife and mother so young that I barely had time to grow into womanhood.

Or rather:

I became a woman.

A responsible one.

But it all happened almost overnight.

Family occupied me.

Everything that happened to us.

My profession.

My life.

And the things I paid least attention to were my appearance, my beauty and my femininity.

Then, not long ago, somebody asked me:

“Tell me, why do you only wear makeup occasionally?

You are beautiful.

Why don’t you own it?

Why are you ashamed of your femininity?”

The question frightened me.

Am I allowed to do that?

Do all the roles I move through every day still permit me to be a Woman too?

What does being a woman actually mean to me?

For weeks, I kept asking myself that question.

What does Woman mean?

Do I have an example I want to follow?

Or should I build my own?

I watched the women around me.

Friends I respected.

Ordinary women.

And above all, myself.

I talked with my mother.

I regularly asked how she had experienced her younger years.

She turns seventy this year.

I began paying attention to my appearance again in the morning.

I tried to bring the outside into harmony with what I felt inside, knowing that the two affect each other.

I opened again.

I began owning my femininity.

Seduction and softness.

Strength and determination.

All of it together.

Honestly.

One morning I woke up with an enormous list of things to do.

Work obligations.

Family roles.

Everything waiting.

But while getting ready, I looked into the mirror.

And the face looking back was not the tired face of everyday responsibility.

It was a funny, flirtatious teenage girl.

I love smiling.

I always have.

That was when I understood:

For me, a real Woman carries all the labels at once.

That is the balance I live in.

Inside me is the child.

The friend and partner.

The romantic teenager.

The determined businesswoman.

The loving mother.

The sexy wife.

If any one of those parts disappeared, the inner balance people often sense when speaking with me would shift.

This is also how I can become an authentic example for my children.

Emotion and tenderness on the outside.

Strength inside.

Joy balanced with serious decisions.

I have not forgotten who I was as a little girl.

As a teenager.

---

As a young adult.

And now, as an adult woman, I have the opportunity to own one of the greatest things in the world:

I am a Woman.

To this day, it bothers me when somebody says:

“But you are a mother.”

Or:

“A wife does not do that.”

Why?

Did marriage and motherhood erase my personality?

I believe that if I completely surrendered to fixed roles and tried to satisfy every social expectation, I would no longer be the person my partner originally fell in love with.

Authentic portrait photography does more than create a flattering image: it reveals character, presence and personality.

Part of the BANHALMI ecosystem

For the professional context and practical side of portrait photography, visit the BANHALMI professional website. Related art series, books and exhibitions are preserved in the BANHALMI ART archive.