The women who shaped us without ever knowing it

International Women’s Day usually celebrates women who lead movements, run companies, or break ceilings, and rightly so because those stories deserve attention.

But today I find myself thinking about another group of women. I am thinking about the women who changed me without ever knowing it, those whose influence often goes unnoticed. In many ways, that feels in keeping with the spirit of Women’s Day itself like a reminder to see the work and contributions that are often invisible.

There was a teacher once who demanded more than I thought I could give. At the time it felt unnecessary, even unfair. But somewhere along the way I learned that sometimes people push you not because they are difficult, but because they see something in you that you have not yet seen yourself. Teachers do that. They correct you when you would rather not be corrected, and they insist on standards when you would happily settle for less. At the time it feels like pressure, but years later, you realise it was belief.

And then there were the school matrons... part counsellor, part disciplinarian, part caretaker. They handled the practical lessons of growing up that never appeared in the syllabus. They taught us how to keep ourselves and our spaces clean, how to wash clothes properly, especially the collars and underwear, how to keep a dormitory tidy, and how to carry ourselves with a little more order and self-respect.

Sometimes they spoke gently, but most times they were firm when we were being careless. But behind that firmness was a kind of watchful care. They were often the people students went to when something felt confusing or overwhelming. At the time we saw them as part of school rules. Looking back, they were teaching us how to take care of ourselves and how to grow into responsible adults.

Then there were the nannies or house helps, the women who helped raise many of us at home, who looked after us while our parents were at work. They fed us, bathed us, chased us around the compound when we were being stubborn, and told us firmly when we were crossing the line. They reminded us to greet properly, to say thank you, and not to do the things children naturally try to do when no one is watching.

Many of the small manners we carry into adulthood were not taught in classrooms but in kitchens and living rooms by women who may never appear in family photos or speeches. They quietly held the home together. They played with us, comforted us when we cried, and made sure we did not burn the house down while the adults were away. At the time they were simply part of everyday life. Looking back, you realise they were shaping us too.

And then there were the neighbours.

In many parts of Africa, it really did take a village to raise a child. The mothers of your friends or playmates fed you when you were hungry, called you to order when you misbehaved, reprimanded you when you had clearly crossed the line. You could not misbehave freely because someone’s mother was always watching, and if she saw you doing something foolish she would tell you immediately. Sometimes you were corrected before your own parents even heard about it. A whole circle of women shaping your understanding of respect, behaviour, and community.

And then there are others...

The interesting thing about influence is that the people who shape us most often do not know they are doing it. They are simply living. They probably do not remember the moment, nor do they know someone was watching, learning, and  taking mental notes.

But that is often how real influence works, through ordinary example. Teachers, matrons, nannies, neighbours, nurses, etc, women whose names may not appear in headlines, but who shape the people we become. And perhaps that is also part of the deeper reflection of Women’s Day: not only celebrating the visible achievements of women, but recognising the work that holds homes, schools, communities, etc together.

Somewhere today, someone is becoming a better person because of something a woman did years ago, something she probably does not even remember. And that, in its own way, is a kind of legacy.

Most of these women will never know the role they played in shaping the people we became. Their names may never appear in speeches, and their work may never be formally acknowledged. Yet their influence remains in the way we greet people, the way we carry ourselves, the way we care for others when it is our turn. 

From where my feet are, one thing I realise today is that we did not become who we are alone.