Serena Williams.  Everyone, even the most sports illiterate, knows Serena Williams.  Ever since she hit the professional stage in 1996, she has dazzled the world with her strength, skill, determination, and success.  She won her first Grand Slam at 17, spent 319 weeks—more than 6 years—ranked as the No. 1 player in the world by the Women’s Tennis Association, has held all four Grand Slam titles at the same time twice, and has won more matches than all but 4 women in the history of tennis—and achieved that even though she would often turn down matches for which she qualified so she could focus on Grand Slams.

For me and so many other women, Serena has been not only a great tennis player, but also a very personal she-ro.  As a young woman, I remember watching her, thinking about how amazing it was that she wasn’t afraid to be strong.  She wore clothes that highlighted her muscles, that made her look like a superhero, and avoided outfits designed to be sexy.  She was aggressive on the court and didn’t try to modulate her behavior to fit within a cultural norm of demure femininity.  On and off the court, she was always laser-focused and clear, and as a teenager, I was most struck by the fact that people liked her not because she was trying to be someone else, but because she was comfortable in her own skin and people are drawn to those who have confidence.

Last week, Serena published an article in Vogue Magazine announcing that after decades of dominating the tennis world, she has decided to evolve and will soon stop playing tennis professionally.  The article, titled “Serena Williams Says Farewell to Tennis On Her Own Terms—And In Her Own Words” made me think this was one more classic Serena Slam—a powerhouse woman who was moving on to another powerful vista and chapter of life with confidence and joy.  I was surprised to learn just how much pain and vulnerability is wrapped up in this choice.