The Label of ‘Warrior’: Do We Need It to Feel Strong?

“You’re such a warrior.”

People say it with admiration, as if it’s a badge I should wear proudly. But what if I don’t always want to be a warrior? What if, on some days, I just want to be a woman with Huntington’s disease who is tired, vulnerable, and human?

When I was first diagnosed, the warrior language came fast and often. Friends, family, and even doctors called me brave, resilient, a fighter. They meant well. But over time, I started to question whether the label truly fit—or if it was more about their need to make sense of my pain than my own reality.

Being called a warrior implies that I’m in a constant battle, and that I must keep fighting no matter what. But some days, surviving doesn’t feel like a fight. It feels like surrender. It feels like resting. It feels like choosing peace over pushing myself past my limits. And those days are valid, too.

There’s also a subtle danger in warrior language it can make people feel like they’re failing if they aren’t strong all the time. If I have a day where I cry, where I can’t get out of bed, or where I feel hopeless, am I suddenly less of a warrior? Am I letting people down?

This kind of framing puts a tremendous burden on those of us living with chronic illness. We are often expected to be inspirational just for existing. We’re supposed to smile through the pain, show up with courage, and never admit defeat. But the truth is, I don’t need to be a warrior to be worthy. I don’t need to be strong to be enough.

What does strength even mean in the context of a progressive illness? For me, it means choosing to keep living in the face of uncertainty. It means asking for help when I need it. It means making peace with my body’s changes. It means allowing myself to grieve. That doesn’t always look like battle cries and armor—it often looks like quiet perseverance.

I know that for some, the label of warrior is empowering. I respect that. There are moments when I do feel like a warrior when I do public speaking, when I advocate for others with HD, when I stand up against injustice in healthcare. In those moments, I feel fierce, and I own that energy. But I want to have the freedom to choose when that label applies to me, and when it doesn’t.

I also want to honor the days when I don’t feel strong. Because those days teach me just as much. They remind me of my limits, of my humanity, of the importance of rest and softness. In a world that celebrates constant motion and grit, choosing stillness can be the bravest act of all.

The problem with framing illness as a battle is that it suggests there are winners and losers. But this isn’t a competition. There’s no prize at the end of this journey. There’s only the life I’m trying to live with as much grace, authenticity, and compassion as I can.

If you love someone with HD, try this: instead of calling them a warrior, ask how they’re really doing. Listen without needing to fix. Be present without needing to label their experience. And if you’re someone living with a diagnosis, know this you don’t have to perform strength for anyone. You are allowed to feel what you feel, without guilt or apology.

So, do we need the label of ‘warrior’ to feel strong? I don’t think so. I think real strength lies in being honest, in letting ourselves be fully seen, messy, complicated, and real.

If I am a warrior, let it be because I choose to keep showing up, not because I never fall. Let it be because I speak the truth of my experience, not because I sugarcoat it to make others comfortable. Let it be because I hold space for both my resilience and my rest.

And let me decide what strength looks like on any given day.

Because living with Huntington’s is already hard enough. I don’t want to carry the weight of someone else’s expectations on top of it. So no, I don’t need to be called a warrior to feel strong. Let my strength be the quiet kind the kind that rises after rest, that weeps without shame, that lives in truth more than titles. Some days I roar, and some days I whisper. Both are brave.