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We’re here for another issue, and as always, much has happened.
Back in August, we made the decision to take DWC to print and then to retail. It was a step that required us to rethink how we show up online, who we promote, and, just as importantly, who stands with us. With that shift came the decision to move away from free features and towards paid options, ensuring that the time, creativity, and effort behind what we do are valued in the way they deserve to be.
This change also set other plans in motion. Merchandise is making its way back to the site, and our yearly calendars are already off to print. Those calendars, by the way, taught us more than we anticipated. Despite over 400 people committing to showcase their brands for free, many never showed up. It was a lesson in commitment, energy, and direction - and a reminder that growth requires boundaries.
The website remains largely unchanged for now, though our main focus over the coming months is transitioning readers from last year’s PDF format to our new interactive layout. We’re also putting more intention into growing our social platforms, where conversations and connections continue to unfold.
And as I reflect on the stories that so many women have shared with us — stories of reinvention, courage, and rediscovery — one thought lingers: run. Not away, but forward.
In 2014, advertising agency Leo Burnett teamed up with Procter & Gamble’s Always brand to create one of the most powerful campaigns in modern advertising: Run Like a Girl (known globally as #LikeAGirl). The campaign launched online in late June that year, and within hours, it began sparking conversations across the world. What started as a three-minute social experiment soon became a movement that challenged deeply ingrained stereotypes about what it means to “do something like a girl.”
The premise was simple but striking. In the video, a director asks a group of adults and teenagers to demonstrate what it looks like to “run like a girl.” Most respond with exaggerated, flailing movements—mocking weakness, fragility, and incompetence. Then a group of younger girls, aged around eight to ten, are asked the same thing. They run with full effort, arms pumping, faces set in determination. The difference is both heartbreaking and hopeful. Somewhere between childhood and adolescence, “like a girl” had become an insult. The campaign asked: when did that happen—and why?
The impact was immediate. The film reached millions of viewers online, later airing during the 2015 Super Bowl, marking the first time a feminine-care brand had taken such a prominent stage. It resonated globally because it wasn’t about selling a product—it was about reclaiming an identity. Surveys following the campaign revealed that after watching the video, the majority of viewers said they’d never again use “like a girl” as an insult. It wasn’t just a viral success; it became a case study in how brands could use storytelling to spark cultural change.
Always didn’t stop there. The #LikeAGirl campaign evolved into a series of follow-up videos exploring the challenges girls face during puberty and adolescence. There was Unstoppable, where girls literally smashed boxes labelled with the stereotypes society imposes on them, and Keep Playing, which highlighted how many girls quit sports due to confidence issues. Each new version built on the same core message: to do something “like a girl” is to do it with strength, passion, and purpose.
Fast forward to today, and “Run Like a Girl” has found new life—not through an ad campaign, but through a social media trend. On platforms like TikTok and Instagram, videos labelled “run like a girl” are circulating again, this time set to Paris Paloma’s haunting song Labour. These clips are raw, emotional, and often deeply personal. Women film themselves running—sometimes literally sprinting through empty streets, sometimes running with children in their arms, sometimes fleeing danger, sometimes rushing toward someone in need. The sound of Paloma’s voice—steady, mournful, defiant—turns each clip into a small act of storytelling.
In this modern version, “run like a girl” no longer speaks to athleticism or insult—it speaks to survival. These videos capture what it means to live in a world where women have to run from more than they should ever have to: from violence, from harassment, from fear that lingers even in daylight. But they also capture strength. Women are shown running toward others, toward safety, toward the act of saving someone else. The same instinct that fuels self-preservation becomes the instinct to protect.
And yet, behind every clip, there’s a quiet question—one that echoes the original Like a Girl message but lands heavier in 2025: when do women get to run toward their own happiness, rather than away from threat or toward responsibility? When will “run like a girl” mean freedom, not flight?
This evolution—from the polished 2014 ad to today’s raw social trend—shows how language, once reclaimed, continues to evolve with culture. In 2014, women and girls were reclaiming confidence. In 2025, they’re reclaiming safety. Both moments are about agency, but they reflect different stages of the same journey. Back then, Always asked us to see “like a girl” as a source of power. Now, the women running through these videos remind us that true empowerment still requires a world where power can exist without fear.
Perhaps that’s the next chapter. Not just running faster or stronger—but finally being free to run toward joy, ambition, and peace. To “run like a girl” could one day mean sprinting toward everything she wants, without looking back.