Heather Mason, CEO and Founder of The Minded Institute reflects on honouring the women who came before us this International Women’s Day.
In the lead-up to this International Women’s Day, I’ve been reflecting on the women who came before us—those who shaped us in ways we may not always realise. I’ve been thinking especially about the matriarchs in my own family and want to take a moment to honour them. At the same time, I acknowledge the men in my family and all they have given me, but today is a celebration of the women.
Before the Great Depression, my maternal great grandfather was well-off, but like so many, he lost everything. In the aftermath, my great-grandmother stepped up, opening a haberdashery to support the family. With her resilience, my great-grandfather was able to rebuild some of his career.
On my paternal side, my grandmother was a formidable—if at times frustrating—woman. She never sought to be intimidating, but she was unyielding in her ways, never bending to expectations. In the early 1940s, she studied physical fitness at NYU and lived by its principles for the rest of her life. She worked hard at a department store, ate healthily, and exercised with unwavering discipline. Until the age of 80, she cycled six miles a day and could be spotted power-walking through the streets, arms swinging in quick succession—an embarrassing sight for her grandchildren but one she carried out without a second thought.
She had interests her husband didn’t share, so she simply pursued them alone—eating out, going to films, or travelling abroad to visit her daughter, who was the first in her generation of our family to earn a master’s degree. When my grandfather passed away, my Nana (as she preferred to be called) embarked on an enthusiastic dating life well into her 80s managing at least three boyfriends. At 82, she even staged a rather dramatic rescue—breaking one of them out of a care home at his request, wheeling him out to her car and driving him away. There were consequences, of course, but she remained unfazed, only arguing over why she should do it again.
She had no concern for how others perceived her and did what suited her best, even if it seemed absurd. She would set her hair and wear a shower cap around town to keep it from getting ruined—a habit I’ve regretfully inherited, as I can occasionally be seen in a blue shower cap after a blow-dry. She was unintentionally modern, never seeking to be a feminist, only determined to do as she pleased. Whether it was attempting to join a roller-skating group at 76, applying to be a park ranger at 78, or talking to me about sex as if she were one of my friends (which always made me cringe), she lived on her own terms.
And then there’s my mother. Tiny—smaller than me by a quarter of an inch, which, when you’re five feet tall, matters. When she was just eight, she took on the responsibility of cooking meals and running the household while her mother was ill. She became an extraordinary cook, a meticulous homemaker, and a master of juggling a thousand tasks at once. She doesn’t even realise how remarkable she is, which is precisely why I hope she sees this post. One of the most extraordinary things about her is that she genuinely doesn’t know she’s extraordinary.
She studied fine art at university, became a teacher, then a dental practice manager. When my father left (though he remained a significant presence in my life), she refused to be financially dependent on any man. In her late 30s, she took out loans, went to law school, and consistently made the dean’s list—all while raising two children. She later co-founded a law firm with another female lawyer and is now the senior partner in an all-female practice specialising in trusts and estates. Her daily work extends far beyond drafting wills and legal documents—she comforts clients through some of the most difficult times of their lives, guiding them through probate after the loss of loved ones.
One of the few things I take for granted is my belief that I can make anything happen through sheer will, conviction, and unwavering commitment. I seldom pause to consider how I became this way, but when I reflect on the women who came before me, the answer is clear. Without them, I would have never dared to undertake the steps that led to building The Minded Institute—moving to Asia and living in Buddhist monasteries entirely on my own, relocating to the UK without friends or family, and continuing to study alongside working. Their resilience, determination, and refusal to be constrained by circumstance shaped me in ways I am only now beginning to fully appreciate.
So today, I invite you to take a moment to reflect on the women who came before you. Those who, in their own ways, instilled strength, curiosity, kindness, or even defiance—perhaps in the face of the most challenging circumstances. They are part of us, and today, we honour them.
