Marina Jo's Place

My husband and I had a large wedding party — 14 people, plus five honorary members.

Nineteen in total.

And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Because at the center of all the planning, DIYing flower arrangements and group texts, there was something truly meaningful: the women in my life.

My big sister stood beside me as matron of honor, offering the kind of love that can only come from someone who’s known you since before you knew that boys didn’t have cooties. Her presence was steady and grounding. In the whirlwind of the day, she kept me connected to my roots — to our culture, our family and a deep sense of self.

Then there was my childhood best friend, my maid of honor who felt like she stepped out of a storybook. One part emotion, one part confetti. She showed up in every way — cheering, crying and checking in. She was the voice in my ear when I needed calm and the voice in my heart reminding me that joy is meant to be shared.

My bridesmaids surrounded me like a constellation — each one a star from a different chapter of my life. With them around me, I felt like the princess of Genovia.

And then there were the honorary bridesmaids. Women I couldn’t bear to leave out. They were the ones straightening my crown throughout the night. Literally. Their presence was quiet but essential and I couldn’t have done it without them.

But this isn’t just a thank-you note to my wedding party. It’s something deeper. It’s about what it means to be held — truly held — by other women. It’s about girlhood, and the way it follows us into adulthood.

The truth is, I didn’t always have this.

As a kid, I was a bookish overachiever. I floated between circles, always a little on the outside.

In college, I tried to find my place. I worked hard to build friendships. And it helped. But it wasn’t until I got older — into my twenties and beyond — that I really began to choose my friendships with care.

And here’s what I’ve learned: No matter what society tries to tell us, it’s never a competition when it comes to women. It shouldn’t be. Real womanhood isn’t about measuring up — it’s about showing up.

When I’m sick, it’s my sister I call.

When I need to fall apart, my friends arrive — arms open.

When I’m uncertain, the women in my life help me find clarity. They offer perspective laced with lore.

Now, I’m often the one who gathers women together. I love planning dinners, crafting nights and creating spontaneous group texts that turn into hours of laughter. I know how precious those spaces are.

To me, girlhood is more than childhood. It’s a way of loving.

It’s asking for help and knowing someone will answer.

It’s crying when you didn’t expect to because your mind feels that safe.

It’s saying “I love you” just because.

That’s what I felt on my wedding day.

That’s what I feel in my life, over and over again.

That’s the kind of girlhood — grown and still glowing — that I hold onto.

And I’m so glad I get to live it in this lifetime.