What is a real woman? Most of you probably know. I don’t. Never have and I’m still doing research. Let’s find out together, let’s unravel the mystical feminine and let it run free.
Are you a real woman?
-Iron cores and mashed potatoes –
I’ve always been a bit of a masculine woman. Or at least I thought I was. Not exactly a tom boy as a kid, because I did play with dolls and was generally a quiet girl who used to stay inside and read, rather than go out and play. Later on my masculinity developed rather as scorn for the barbified female: I never liked pink, I didn’t have delicate shiny bows, I frowned upon women who consider themselves princesses and have never dreamed about my wedding. At least 50% of my close friends were men. My women friends also had a bit of a masculine energy to them, or at least not the most feminine perspective to life.
By the time I realized this, I decided to put my theory to the test and told people that I’m rather manly. Most of them strongly disagreed and it made me wonder – am I really masculine or not? Nothing seemed to add up: I was obviously very feminine looking, almost always wore skirts, have a degree in interior design and my favorite site is Pinterest! So there was a lot of femininity going on there.
Long story short, since I have a little bit of both, I’ve decided I am the kind of woman you can go to war with! I am also the kind of woman who can whip up the best coconut cheesecake you’ve ever had.
Who is to say what is feminine and what is masculine? Maybe only the people who always have an opinion about anything and anyone and it just has to be exactly their way, otherwise they crumble to pieces.
I don’t know what a real woman is, just as I don’t know what a real man is. From my point of view, if you are born with female genitalia you are a real woman and there is no need to prove it by certain actions like baking or being overly sweet and smiling or giving birth. Also, if at some point you decide you are a man in a woman’s body or the other way around, that is what you are and there is no need to prove it by chopping some wood or hammering up drywall.
I don’t need to know what a real woman is. All I am interested in is discovering the mystical feminine in me and letting it run free, because without even realizing it, I’ve been hiding it for so long. Always trying to be in control. Always appearing tough and harsh. And it is just not who I am inside.
I have a very dear friend – he is the sweetest guy in the world. He is comforting, he is accommodating, he is always there to help, he is made of bonfire roasted marshmallows. But only on the outside! On the inside he has a pit of steel! Iron core! NOTHING breaks him! And I don’t mean the usual not getting along with your colleagues or breakups or the cat peeing in your most expensive shoes. I mean dead serious issues that are not mine to talk about. I, on the other hand, as I suppose most of us do, I am made of iron on the outside, with mashed potatoes on the inside! I am a cry baby. I am a delicate little flower torn from a dewy meadow that a tractor has just run over! However, nobody can see that, because apparently it is carefully hidden behind my warrior woman death gaze. And I am not even trying, it is just there, plastered on my face.
While rejecting the false overinflated feminine of pink bows, I chose the overinflated feminine of red lace underwear. I picked the more sultry side of feminine because I felt it closer to my heart and I am not sorry for it. That is still within me and I accept it as my own. But I rejected another side which was just as much mine: the delicate touch, the soft caress, embracing the vulnerability within.
I want to go more towards my feminine energy just to see what it feels like and see if I feel safe there. Because I just have the feeling that I have never let myself be protected, loved and cherished and I’d really like to see what it feels like, I might even enjoy it. The path that I started on some time ago doesn’t make me more of a woman, it just makes me more myself. It is the path of authenticity and I intend to walk it no matter how difficult it might be. But the goal is to find who I really am and not be afraid to show it. I am still far from there but I know what I have to do: just walk.
So, what is a real woman? You are. I am.