That night at the theatre, when the lights went down, I had no idea what was coming.

There's a line in Prima Facie. It came from the stage: “A woman's experience of sexual assault does not fit the male-defined system of truth, so it cannot be truth, and therefore, there cannot be justice.” Those words sank into some quiet place inside me.

Later I thought about all those posts online. “Girls are the best creatures in the world.” “Girls are all gentle, all pretty, all caring.” I used to like them too, thought they were praising us. But that night, walking out of the theatre, something felt off. When “gentle” becomes a label for every girl, is it still a compliment? I think, it turns into a ruler. You're not like that? Then you're not girly enough. You're not caring enough? Something must be wrong with you. Praising all girls for being gentle and pretty actually says: as a woman, you'd better be this way.

But I don't think that's why girls stand up for each other.

The woman in the play, she started as a defense lawyer. She stood in court defending men accused of sexual assault. She cross-examined the victims, thought they sounded messy, thought their stories had holes. She thought: as long as I win, nothing else matters. She never wondered if those women might be hurt again by her questions.

Then she became a victim herself. What hit me hardest was that she knew she'd probably lose. She knew the trial would make her relive everything. But she still did it. And when she stood there in court, when she looked up, she saw those women in the audience, those eyes. Some eyes said “I've been there too.” Some eyes just held her, let her know: I'm here, you're not alone.

She stood up piece by piece. Not like those internet stories where someone suddenly “wakes up” and becomes a strong female lead overnight. It was painful. She hesitated. But she stood up anyway.

I've seen those eyes at school too. Like when my period came and I stained my pants. Nobody laughed. Someone gave me her jacket to tie around my waist. Someone pulled me aside during break and said quietly “you've got a little something there, I'll walk with you to the bathroom.” We might not even be that close. We might compete for grades next exam. But in that moment, she just handed me her jacket. That's what Girls help Girls really means to me.

Not because we're all “gentle angels”. But because I know things happen to you too, just like they happen to me. So I've got your back. You don't have to shout about it. It's just natural

That's why I roll my eyes sometimes at those dramas where female friendship is either “queens slaying together” or “plastic sisters backstabbing each other”. That stuff is too loud.

“We cannot unsee, can we?” That's the end of the line. I used to think "cannot unsee" meant seeing the big stuff. Injustice in the law. Biases in the system. Tragedies of the times. Now I think it also means seeing the small things in each other's lives. Seeing she needs a jacket. Seeing she's hesitating to speak. Seeing the pain that flashes across her face for just a second. Seeing those eyes in the courtroom, silent but watching. You don't have to shout about it. It's just there, quiet and steady. Like those eyes looking at the woman on stage.

The movie “Women’s World” is a heartwarming tale that follows Chinese-American dancers in their seventies to nineties, as they travel from San Francisco’s Chinatown to the streets of Havana, Cuba, and finally to China. Before watching, I expected an inspiring story about living life to the fullest and facing aging with grace. But as the movie unfolded, I found myself unexpectedly moved to tears.

One of the standout characters is Yu Jin Qiao, a grandmotherly character who captivates the audience with her pretty and personalized outfits, all handmade and unique each day, complementing her beaming smile. She appears on screen as just a ‘grandma,’ without the more consideration on her age. In one scene, she playfully claims to be 29, which puzzled me until the revelation that she is actually 92. It was a shocking moment that highlighted the joy and vitality she shows despite her age.

Towards the end of the film, the dancers visit the Forbidden City. Yu Jin Qiao, now dealing with heart issues, moves with difficulty. Yet, as she walks down a slope, she can’t help but want to dance. She mentions needing music, but there is none, no spotlight. Not disappointed, she begins to dance on the spot, and the other elderly dancers join in, singing and dancing with her. It’s a scene devoid of drama or sadness, showing the resilience and joy that come with age, rather than the hardships.

The director’s minimal interaction with the dancers prevents the film from being overly objective. Yet, it’s clear that these seasoned artists have a profound impact on each other’s lives.

After watching “Women’s World,” concerns like appearance anxiety, body image, and fashion freedom seem superficial. The film is not just moving; it’s an honor to witness such beautiful expressions of life. Dance is their life, and they love it.