Strong. Beautiful. Smart.

Every day, I tell my daughters the same three things:
You are strong. You are beautiful. You are smart.
And I say it in that exact order—for a reason.

I start with strong because that’s where everything begins. In this world, especially for girls, strength has to come first. Not just physical strength, but strength of heart. Strength to say no. Strength to stand tall when life tries to knock them down. Strength to walk away when something doesn’t feel right. I want my daughters to know that strength isn’t about being the loudest in the room—it’s about being grounded in who you are and not letting anyone shake that. The world will try to test their limits, question their worth, and box them in. But if they know they’re strong, they’ll move through anything.

Then I tell them you are beautiful. Not because of what they look like—but because of who they are. Because real beauty has nothing to do with filters, angles, or fitting into some made-up mold. Real beauty is in how they treat people, how they laugh without holding back, how they light up a room just by being themselves. I want them to know they’re beautiful because they were made with love, on purpose, exactly the way they are. They don’t need to earn it or prove it.

Last, I say you are smart—because I want them to trust their own minds. To think critically. To ask hard questions. To never shrink themselves just to make someone else feel more comfortable. Being smart doesn’t mean having all the answers—it means staying curious, being willing to learn, and knowing your voice matters. And it’s the last thing I say because it’s the foundation they’ll need to make good choices, lead with intention, and stay one step ahead in a world that sometimes underestimates them.

So yeah, I say those three words every day—strong, beautiful, smart—in that exact order. Because that’s the kind of women I hope my daughters grow into. Grounded. Confident. Capable. And full of love.

Raising girls in this world is not easy. It’s sacred. It’s my greatest responsibility. And I take it seriously—because the way I raise them will shape how they see themselves and how they show up for others. I don’t want them to be perfect. I want them to be real. To be brave. To be kind. To be free.

And no matter what the world says, they’ll always know where they came from—and that their dad is in their corner, forever.