Reported by Yuqing Wang (Class of 2025)

On the evening of May 7th, we gathered at the second-floor screening room of the DKU Library to watch the documentary Woman. Directed by Anastasia Mikova and Yann Arthus-Bertrand, this film doesn’t follow a traditional narrative—it offers no commentary or storyline. Instead, it invites 2,000 women from over 50 countries to simply face the camera and speak. About childhood. About motherhood. About freedom, violence, identity, and dreams. Each story uninterrupted. Every silence respected.

Throughout the hour-long screening, the room remained still. We sat quietly, watching the screen fill with women’s faces—some firm, some tired, some smiling, and some in tears. They spoke of loss, of resilience, of love and anger. Their words felt raw and unfiltered, and at the same time, incredibly gentle. No one whispered. No one moved. But eyes turned red, and heads bowed low in thought. Something deep was settling in the room.

After the film, a few students stayed for discussion, but everyone’s face showed reflection. There weren’t many words—but the shared silence felt heavy and warm. It was the kind of moment where we didn’t need to explain—we simply understood.

Woman wasn’t made to teach or convince. It was made so we could see—see women’s bodies, their emotions, their fears and desires, how they’ve survived in pain, and how they’ve quietly, stubbornly lived on. What lingers most are perhaps those ordinary women’s eyes—honest, direct, and unapologetic.

In a time when everything is fast, scattered, and constantly “explained,” we still need these spaces of quiet witnessing. We still need stories that are simply told.

This wasn’t just a film about them. It was—quietly and completely—about us.