what is being a woman?
what is being a woman?
is it my lacey thong that peeks out of the top of my jeans?
or my luscious red lips that are sewn shut, as to not voice my opinions too loud?
my emotions locked away, never to inconvenience you.
to be feminine, is to be weak.
we are at the bottom of the food chain.
walking the tightrope, struggling to balance.
sometimes too girly, sometimes too manly.
not too slutty but never a prude,
be a girl who can have a good time,
but be home when her man wants her to be.
I am a fantasy, an idea, a shell to fill with your desires,
a carbon copy of who you want me to be.
I am never a being with thoughts or words of value.
I mold myself, bending over backwards to fit you.
I stand in front of the mirror, walls plastered with women I’ll never look like; airbrushed and
starving.
we tear each other down in hopes of climbing the totem pole we will never see the top of.
an endless cycle of being too much or not good enough.
If I yell, I’m crazy, if I cry, I’m too sensitive.
don’t be a pushover,
don’t be bitchy, Grow up faster,
be polite, sit up straight, close your legs,
change your clothes, your skirt’s too short.
too much tummy,
eat more, eat less.
we grow up afraid to take up space in a man’s world.
but fuck that, take up space, be outrageous and loud.
be crude and “unladylike”.
femininity and womanhood can mean so many things.
so what is being a woman to me?
it’s my lavender body wash, and gossiping about boys we’re too good for.
it’s in the art I make, the ideas I have.
it's dancing alone at night with my headphones on,
or writing love letters that will never be read,
caring for my loved ones, and being a little selfish sometimes.
it’s dreaming up outfits I want to wear, sleepovers with my bestfriend or giving a tampon to that
girl in the bathroom.
I see womanhood in my mom.
in her curly hair,
when she decided to go to college,
when she’s dancing to my dad’s music,
or laughing with her friends.
when I hug her and smell her perfume, flowery and sweet.
I remember being told by her; growing up, to be everything I wanted and more.
and like superglue that stuck with me,
I carried that around wherever I went,
I’ve grown up longing for womanhood, to be older and to live by my own rules.
but over the years I've grown quiet, unable to make a wave,
too scared to declare who I was, but I realized that,
womanhood is messy and hard, but it’s also beautiful and worth it.
it’s an array of feelings I'm still trying to navigate.
i’m not done trying to define my womanhood,
and maybe its too big to fit into a poem,
but it’s mine to figure out,
on my own.
— KA
