Simone de Beauvoir wrote that one is not born, but becomes – a woman…

I’ve always so admired the writer who can pack so much life – so much meaning into a single line.

It’s never been a gift of mine – short and honest to the point of curt cuntness while speaking, when writing, it’s as if I must explore the thought – knead it like dough, roll in it like silk sheets and meander through it – like forest bathing, wandering through the leaves of language, the branches of words, and before I know it, the pages of my meaning are strewn onto a path hardly short, or straight.

But de Beauvoir could be beautifully and powerfully succinct. And she was indeed a woman.

And I love that I can FEEL what that means as I move on through life – to become a woman.

To know what that journey means – and that it is not one path – but a meandering forest bath.

Complete with turn offs, switch backs, losing your way, finding a new one, and a helluva lot of trailblazing.

To be all of it. To be, as she wrote, the second sex. And yet the first – the first to blame, the first to shame, the first to be damned – and the first to taste – the first to veil, the first to strip, the first to burn – and the first to turn, and stand unapologetically in the face of a future she raised – in the present that saw her erased.

But more than this. She is more than her pain – more than the shallow sketch you drew, in the hopes of killing my depth.

I am a thousand years of strength – the kind that weathers storms, that fall – from the sky and our minds.

I am the divine that WILL not be placed – in the hands of a god that doesn’t believe in me.

I am the joy that dances – the siren song – that can quiet swords, or sew revenge.

I am the hips that don’t lie – that no matter how much they try and hide, restrict and deny, bring life – bring light.

I am the mind – the feminine sense – the witchy, the wise – the intellect and the imagination.

The spirit of mothers, of daughters, of sisters – pulses inside.

I am the future, I am the present – today. And I am all of this past.

 

To borrow some unfamiliar brevity – I am a woman.