September News
September Newsletter
I Didn’t Want to Be a Woman
I have wanted to write about this for a long time, but I never quite knew when the right moment would be.
Then last night, during one of the legendary “solve all the world’s problems” conversations my daughter and I have while walking, she asked me a question:
“Who started the whole, ‘If a boy picks on you, it means he likes you’ thing?”
I laughed at first and said, “I have no idea.”
Then I thought about it.
“But you realize how deeply flawed that saying is, right?”
She emphatically agreed.
Even in its most innocent interpretation, what are we teaching our children?
We are teaching boys that affection can be expressed through teasing, antagonizing, embarrassing, or hurting someone instead of teaching them how to communicate tenderness, admiration, attraction, or vulnerability.
And we are teaching girls that discomfort may actually be affection.
That if someone hurts your feelings, embarrasses you, or makes you feel small, perhaps you should reinterpret it as love.
Put your head down.
Take it.
Maybe he just likes you.
And when that message is repeated enough, in enough different forms, I wonder what happens when the stakes become higher.
When does “he picks on you because he likes you” become “he hits because he loves you”?
When does “he’s mean because he cares” become something darker?
My daughter looked at me and said, “Exactly! Who started this?”
And suddenly, the floodgates opened.
I told her something I had never really explained this way before.
When I was young, I did not want to be a woman.
Not because I inherently hated being female.
I hated what I saw being a woman meant.
Womanhood looked like a punishment.
I grew up hearing sayings like:
“A man’s work is from sunup to sundown, but a woman’s work is never done.”
I heard religious stories interpreted in ways that suggested women carried some ancient blame because Eve had taken the forbidden fruit.
I witnessed, personally experienced and heard stories of women being controlled, diminished, abused, expected to endure, expected to serve.
And somewhere inside my young mind, I created a definition:
Woman = vulnerable. Woman = servant. Woman = powerless.
I wanted no part of it.
So I became strong.
Tough.
Independent.
I hung out with the boys.
I tried not to need anyone.
I learned how to carry heavy things—literally and figuratively.
I spent much of my life proving that I could do anything a man could do.
And there is nothing wrong with being strong.
There is nothing wrong with independence.
There is nothing wrong with women being ambitious, powerful, capable, loud, courageous, brilliant, or fierce.
But looking back, I can see that some of my strength wasn't freedom.
Some of it was armor.
I wasn't only becoming strong because strength was who I was.
Sometimes I was becoming strong because I was terrified of what I believed softness represented.
Weakness.
Dependence.
Vulnerability.
Womanhood.
It took me decades to realize something:
I never hated being a woman. I hated the story I had been given about what a woman was.
And those are not the same thing.
For years, I wouldn't even let myself truly like the color pink.
It seemed ridiculously feminine to me.
Too soft.
Too girly.
Too easy to identify with something I had spent so much of my life trying to escape.
Today?
My bedroom is pink.
And I love it.
There is something almost poetic about that to me.
Because I am beginning to understand that softness is not the opposite of strength.
Tenderness is not weakness.
Compassion does not make us powerless.
Being nurturing does not mean becoming a servant.
Receiving does not make us dependent.
And femininity does not require us to become small.
I don't want women to become more like men.
And I don't want men to become more like women.
I want us to evolve beyond the idea that equality requires sameness.
Yes, women deserve equal pay.
Equal opportunity.
Equal access.
Equal protection.
Equal seats at the table.
Absolutely.
But equality does not require us to erase every difference between us.
Perhaps our differences are part of what makes the whole stronger.
Perhaps there are qualities traditionally associated with femininity—intuition, receptivity, collaboration, nurturing, emotional awareness, softness—that our world desperately needs.
And perhaps there are beautiful qualities traditionally associated with masculinity that deserve to be honored too.
What if the goal isn't for one to defeat the other?
What if the goal is wholeness?
And this is where I believe we, as parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, mentors, friends, and human beings, have tremendous power.
We get to decide which stories continue.
Some of the ideas handed to us have been repeated for so long that we barely hear what they are actually saying.
“If he picks on you, he likes you.”
“Boys don't cry.”
“Women are too emotional.”
“Man up.”
“A woman's work is never done.”
“Good girls don't…”
“Real men don't…”
Maybe it is time to examine all of them.
Not with shame.
Not with anger toward the generations before us.
But with awareness.
Because most people pass along what they themselves were taught.
Until somebody stops.
Until somebody asks:
Is this actually true?
That conversation with my daughter reminded me that cultural change doesn't always begin in a courtroom, a boardroom, or a protest.
Sometimes it begins on an evening walk between a mother and a daughter.
Sometimes it begins when a child says:
“Who started this?”
And instead of automatically repeating what we were told, we are brave enough to answer:
“I don't know.
But maybe it can stop with us.”
I love being a woman now.
Not because I have finally learned how to fit into someone else's definition of womanhood.
Quite the opposite.
I love being a woman because I am finally allowing myself to decide what being a woman means to me.
Strong and soft.
Independent and receptive.
Powerful and compassionate.
Fierce and tender.
I don't have to choose.
And neither does my daughter.
So perhaps the question for all of us is this:
What stories about being a woman or a man were handed to you before you were old enough to question them?
Which ones have shaped your relationships?
Which ones have shaped the way you see yourself?
Which ones are you still repeating without realizing it?
And most importantly:
Which ones are you ready to stop passing on?
Because someday our children will inherit the stories we choose to keep.
And the stories we are courageous enough to rewrite.
Reflection
What beliefs about being a woman, a man, strong, soft, lovable, desirable, successful, or worthy were handed to you before you were old enough to question them?
Which of those beliefs still shape the way you speak to yourself, choose relationships, set boundaries, or move through the world?
Ask yourself:
Is this belief truly mine, or was it given to me?
And if it no longer serves you:
What would I choose to believe instead?
You might finish by writing:
The story I am no longer willing to carry is ____________. The story I choose to live now is ____________.
*Kyah's Journey & Wisdom*
Hello, today I will be telling you about my experience with my first few days of school. I haven't had a spiritual experience lately. I started school 5 days ago and I was really nervous, I don't know why but I just was, and about a week ago my mom asked me if I was glad that I started in the last few weeks of 6th grade. I said yeah and explained how it felt by saying this, "you know how f1 drivers before every race get to take a lap to see the track, well that's how I felt, I got my 5 weeks/ 1 lap around school so now I can start the race/ year off confidently. " So far school has been going great, and I have a friend in every class except for science. I am doing cross country and tennis which I love. One of my friends have felt kind of distant though so I texted her this morning and said hi, she texted back immediately and just said hi back then I asked how she was doing. The reason I didn't say anything about her feeling distant was because I wanted to know whether it was personal or just, she wasn't having a good day. I would like to talk to her in person but as of now I am trying not to take it personal. I have made a new friend though and she seems really nice. But maybe every experience is spiritual it just depends on how you want to look at it. Thank you and here's to being superhuman.
melody@invokeandra.com 541-291-1240
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