Stepping into My Feminine Power

in #life6 years ago

Yesterday was girly bliss as my daughters and I walked the mall shopping for makeup, bath bombs, leggings, candy and hair accessories (well, nose rings for me). We took advantage of sales which were conveniently all based off the number three (buy three, get three free!).

Stepping into my femininity was not something I was fully or consciously able to do until having daughters. Having a son seemed straightforward. I knew little about boys, but I identified with them growing up. I never wanted to be a girl. My son's arrival, though, prompted me to seek a feminine strength. I'm not sure I can describe it other than to say it was always denied to me, but I'd be damned if my son would grow up not seeing a strong mother. (And thus my feminism was born?)


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When my second child arrived, I began to get to know my female body in a new way. Her birth was traumatic. She came out fast, cracked my tailbone and then was whisked away from me because she had fluid in her lungs from not being smashed enough during contractions. Maternal instinct kicked in hard, as did self-preservation. Every strength I'd gained after my first pregnancy was obliterated during my second. I also fell into a deep post-partum depression. I had to learn a lot about my physical self to regain strength and health. I had scar tissue in new places as my baby was 10lbs, 3oz and shot out, as she says so accurately, like a rocket.

As for my third birth, it went well except for more tearing and scarring which meant learning to touch myself in a place I'd been told I would go to Hell if I touched. But I had to massage that scar tissue to break it up or choose to feel pain in that area during intimacy. I learned that I was disgusted by my female form, but with every change of my second daughter's diaper, the female body became normalized. I was able to massage out the scar tissue, and I learned that my vagina is not something to be ashamed of.

Hang on. Let me dive into that. For those of you who don't read me on the regular, I grew up abused because my parents were scared of what men might do to me since I was female. You read that right. My parents wanted to protect me from predators, so they beat fear into me and tore me down verbally to assure that I wouldn't show too much skin or incite violence from men. Alas, the violence happened anyway. Largely because I'd been primed to believe I was worthless except for what lay between my legs, which was both my family's honor and every man's pleasure. Predators can see the victim in you. My conditioning to abuse was exploited by men who assaulted me.

So it's no wonder being femme was not my bag. I was a tomboy through and through, until I saw I was truly a terrified woman hiding out in the masculine to avoid the baggage "feminine" carried. I came into both my femininity and my bisexuality at the same time, realizing my equal draw to and fear of the female form had just as much to do with sexual attraction as abuse. It was . . . confusing. It was also a relief. For years, I'd thought I was a pervert, looking at and judging every woman who passed. Judging was a defense mechanism. I have only come out to one member of my blood family because hetero is the only safe way to be sexual. (However, if you've read my poems, you know I don't hide my love for the female form.)

All of this is to say I've finally, finally gotten to a point in my life where being a girl is FUN. I love celebrating femininity, however we choose to express it, with my daughters. So when my son was picked up for a trip to his grandparents' house, the girls and I went to a movie, then the mall. And later, we will go the mall again and then watch a movie, all cuddles and snuggles and ribbons and bows and nail polish.

I am so grateful I have my two girls. They have shown me that being a woman is wonderful. There is so much joy in liking "girly" things. This doesn't make me love sports less. I still hold a title for belching. And I keep my hair pretty damn short, but it isn't so I don't look like a woman. That is not the Shawna I am anymore. It's because it feels good and it's sexy.

How are you stepping into your feminine power?

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I relate so much to this. I don't have daughters, only a son... but I also had an abusive childhood and am now learning to embrace my feminity. Thank you for sharing your story and also inviting us to recognize ourselves in it. You have such a gorgeous way with words that always draws me in.

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