If you’re reading this, thanks already.
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This week, I was bombarded online with female friendly, feminist, equal rights and independent women slogans. The ra-ra pink confetti surrounding International Women’s Day (Officially on March 8th), had me all sorts of fired up and feeling’ womanly AF.
When I called upon my imagination to create a killer Instagram worthy caption about womanhood, it struck a chord of creativity for me. I began to ponder my own femininity and personal feelings towards being a member of the oh-so-powerful Vagina club.
I always heard that you became a woman the day you got your first period, or maybe, it’s when you lost your virginity, or, perhaps, the day you married your soulmate, or birthed your first child. Either way, this “Becoming a Woman” transition always felt as though it would happen for me instantly.
I now realize, I never “became a woman” in any of these moments. In fact, I still might not totally be there. I don’t believe I will ever go to bed a naive, ponytailed tween and awake a confident hour-glassed sassy female. No independent moment could ever solidify this type of metamorphosis for me.
This shit takes time. This shit takes work. This transition of “becoming a woman” unknowingly continues to take place in an array of moments: as they all assemble together to make me the woman I am still becoming.
I became a woman the day I decided I would learn to ride a 2-wheeler. In 24 hours. My mom ran the streets with me all night. I was determined and bull headed, and I learned quickly.
I became a woman the first time I experienced true heart break. Fuck, that hurt.
I became a woman when I lied and took the blame for a friend in high school. Even if it meant I was banned from Safeway for a decade, I had her back.
I became a woman when I finally stood up to someone who belittled me. I let my anger out in the wrong way, but I was no longer a doormat.
I became a woman when I saved my own money, enough money to fly my teenage ass across the world for an entire summer. I had nothing but a backpack and a drinking problem, but I learnt a lot about myself.
I became a woman the day I stood on stage in a bikini and hoisted a trophy. I also became a woman the day I walked away without spotlight, applause or any recognition. Winning and losing have grown me equally.
I became a woman the day I left an abusive relationship for good. Audios, Crazy. See you never.
I became a woman the day I opened my own business at 21 years old. I had no money, but I had passion to share, and I trusted my gut.
I became a woman the day I learned to say, “I am sorry” and mean it. That type of apology takes balls: and massive courage… and a dash of vulnerability.
I became a woman the night I decided I could bang with the lights on. With body confidence and trust in my relationship, I learned to communicate my sexual desires and feel accepted in my own skin.
I became a woman when I fell in love with my husband. Wanting more for someone then I did for myself was once a foreign concept and is now a feeling that changed me forever.
I became a woman the first time I prayed to God, The Universe, The Something-Greater-Than-Myself: giving power to the larger world is both cathartic and healing.
I became a woman the day I found out I would soon become a mother. I also became a woman the day I found out I would not, yet. In these moments I gained a gift of clarity for my future and a newfound strength I never hope to cultivate again.
I became a woman each time I jumped in an airplane for take-off, starred at a sunset a little longer, hiked the top of a mountain or pushed myself to see more and do more in this world. Cause being adventurous is womanly AF.
I became a woman the day I experienced the death of someone I loved dearly. The world’s most natural experience, yet so unnatural to me. Learning to process death is terrifying and dark and yet somehow beautiful and bonding.
I became a woman the first time I felt grief. The worst emotion in the entire dictionary of emotions. I felt it. I feel it. It continues to wash over me like a tidal wave and I continue to rise with the tide each time.
I became a woman in the smallest of moments: offering to hang a friend’s jacket, showing up unexpected with flowers, gaining trust through compassion and conversation and continuing to do the right thing, even when no one is watching.
So, I guess what I am saying, is this magical transition into womanhood doesn’t happen overnight. You won’t achieve this status with the first use of a contraceptive, or the day you finally learn how to insert a tampon, or because someone decides to make you their wife.
This evolution into womanhood is about trial and error, about showing up and being seen, about learning and un-learning how to love and appreciate ourselves, our physical bodies, our beautiful souls, our genuine hearts, our fellow fierce females.
This ever-evolving change into womanhood is bound to be be filled with frustrations, with “I cant believe I made it” moments, with gut-wrenching laughter and backstabber friends. Womanhood is built through resistance, through having the wind at your face, through tough moments, tight financial struggles and anxiety that can keep you up at night. Womanhood comes from face-hurting smiles, manifestations that become reality and daily personal habits that continue to build your character/
Womanhood is about becoming a better wife, mother, friend, grandmother, aunt, daughter, sister. Womanhood is about becoming a better female- a female so filled to the brim with love and happiness that we have no choice but to overflow onto others.
So if you’re with me on this: support a fellow sister and leave me your email for updates on my blog AND, better yet, hit the “SHARE” button and tell your girlfriends to follow along too.
Now, a short tribute to some powerful chicks:
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