“I don’t speak English well,” said Anne,* apologetically. “I only attended school through primary, so I didn’t use English at home as a child. I only spoke my mother tongue and Swahili.” She communicated in soft tones, twisting a handkerchief between clasped hands and shyly smiling at me with an unwavering gaze.

Trying my best to speak coherent Swahili, I replied, “Unasema Kiingereza kizuri sana!” (“You speak English very well!”) She again smiled shyly. Then, after a slight pause, she rewarded my attempted Swahili by telling me her story in perfect, unbroken English.

For the past four years, Anne has been part of a post-test club group in Mathare, primarily a support group for people living with HIV. Mostly women, the group makes cleaning products at their meetings each week that they then sell in the community. Because of this mutual empowerment and encouragement, Anne and several other members started their own businesses to earn a steady income for their families.

Observing Anne, her words and mannerisms reflected an endearing combination of humility, borne out of her past experiences, and newfound confidence and pride in her work and leadership abilities.

“Being HIV positive doesn’t mean you can’t live a full life,” she said. “Life can be positive when you’re ‘positive.’”

Before joining the group, Anne struggled to provide a life for herself and her son. He didn’t attend school because she couldn’t pay school fees, nor could she buy them food, clothing, shoes, or pay rent to give them shelter. Anne’s husband, who indifferently infected her, continued being promiscuous, seemingly healthy and unaffected by the disease they both now share. Anne was left to care for her son alone. Living the “full life” that she now promotes seemed unattainable then.

“God led me to this group,” she said confidently. “We support each other to keep believing that we can make a life for ourselves and our children.” And they are doing it, despite immense challenges.

“It is changing, but we are still stigmatized and discriminated against by the community,” Anne said. “We seek to change that by showing people that being HIV positive doesn’t mean death. You can continue living well. And people can’t get it from us by just sharing a conversation or being around us.”

Today as we celebrate worldwide the many achievements and contributions to society by women, I think of Anne and countless other women and girls like her, in urban shanties of Mathare Valley and rural, isolated parts of Kenya.

Women, like Anne, battling a disease inflicted upon them, yet persevering alone to care for their children. Women and girls shouldering the collective burdens of their families, neighbors, and friends when resources are scarce or too expensive. Orphaned, adolescent girls parenting younger siblings. Girls bravely attending school despite religious or cultural dictates that inhibit or prohibit their education. Women tackling extreme poverty head-on by personally sacrificing to educate their children, learning new skills to acquire jobs, and starting businesses.

Like Anne, each is unshakably determined to live with faith, love, grace, and hope, finding beauty in relationships and strength in the commonalities that make us women.

*Name changed to protect her privacy