One of my go-to topics of conversation that pops up around my second or third bevvy is the whole feminine/masculine debate. Like, someone might say, “Oh that guy is super feminine–I wonder if he’s gay?” or “That girl is such a tomboy because she dresses so masculine.” And what I like to do, wine in hand or not, is break open people’s minds a bit. Stretch them. It sounds slutty, but it’s not. It’s just me.
If you think I made a mistake with that last line, you’re wrong. I’m just that good of a writer.
My take on it is that nobody has to make a decision and say “Oh hey, I’m a 6 on the feminine scale.” No no no! Okay, wait. I already wrote about this, and I’ll link it up here, and OMG I used to be WAY FUNNIER. What happened? My writing now is LAME AND BORING.
Anyway. I used to be a bit of a man-hater, so I went through this phase where I thought I was a lesbian (leaving out details because my dad reads this), but I’m not, but you can see the picture I’m trying to paint here. I adore women. I love being female. If I got stuck out of my body and saw myself being born with a penis, I’d be really disappointed.
This is supposed to be a Week in Review, hosted by a woman, of course, Meghan from Clean Eats Fast Feets, and so I should probably just write about my week.
Nicole @thegirlwhoraneverywhere posted a treadmill workout and because she’s a bit of an idol of mine, I decided to give her workout a try. I frigging nailed it. But I never would have tried it if I hadn’t first read her post. Women are strong, and inspiring, and hot damn, they’re fast.
I’ve mentioned Marybeth a few times on my blog and that woman’s writing has never ceased to blow my mind. I’m not sure how I scored this, but I get weekly emails from her (I took a course of hers several months ago, so maybe I still get stuff?) and this morning’s piece was ground-breaking. But this was her Instagram post from the middle of the week:
I used to read Denise‘s blog years ago. I think I may have stumbled upon her space when we both had our dreadlocks. You know how there are some people that just soar above the others? Her spirit, her Self, is something just out of this world. She isn’t a person–she’s an experience. I opened up to her, just through messaging, and she held my heart in my words and nurtured me in the way I needed Her most. I am so grateful.
And Kristen, who I went to high school with but only recently became close friends with right after Callum was born, took in my pain too and stood beside me like a warrior, a warrior with a soft inside, you know? A safe love that will fight for me but when I close my eyes, I know won’t fight against me.
I listened to Ali on the Run’s podcast and she interviewed a model, and they talked a lot about self-image and the physicality of being a woman and it just felt like bread and butter to my soul. Their calming conversation settled into my hips and centered my spine like a good shag and a cigarette.
The other night I lay in bed and had a good cry. It was one of those cries that you just know are planting seeds somewhere. Somewhere green, and damp, with bits of sunlight, just enough to nurture without scorching the edges. And while I cried, Andrew rubbed my back but honestly, all I craved, all I imagined, all I needed was to be inside a circle of a tribe of women, faces smudged with the pains of labour, not just childbirth but of lovebirth, the sacrifices that come with femininity, of nurturing the undeserving, with grace and relentless hope and unfailing love.
Katie and I headed over to my sister Lori’s house because they adopted sister cats. My niece had them locked in her room, safe, in predictable surroundings and they settled there, purring and twirling in her lap. I let the girls be and headed to the kitchen to make myself a coffee and I curled up into Lori’s oversized armchair, an Adele book on her table, birds outside the window, and I thought holy shit. Lori’s life is chaotic, but she knows enough to put a chair here, with Adele, and the birds, and she knows that heaven isn’t up there in some unreachable, untouchable place–it’s in the middle of the storm if you squat down and lean into it. It’s right here.
Do you think of a woman when you think of femininity?
List off some descriptive words that come to mind when you think of Woman. Are they stereotypical? Why or why not?
If it’s 5am where you are right now and you’re thinking “For godssake Suzy, don’t ask me questions like this before I drink my coffee,” then I’ll let you break the rules a bit just this once. But you have to tell me if you’ve had your morning poo yet: yes or no?