Becoming a woman

It was spring; the weather was ripening, gently drawing us towards summer. We were having a lemonade on a terrace. His hands were resting on the case of his vintage camera, his chin resting on them. He was looking at me with that smile in the corners of his eyes, as though he was watching something pleasing, yet intriguing.

I had sunk into love with him a while before, but was still clinging to the shore, pretending he was just a good friend.

“You’re very masculine in your way of being,” he said. And I smiled, proudly. At that time, his sentence sounded like a compliment. It translated for me into: I can use my mind to make myself heard, I can be challenging and confrontational, I can beat a man at logic, I know how to go for what I want, I’m independent, etc.

If I had known how far I was from owning myself fully…
If only I had known how much energy I was losing by prioritising those aspects of me over the ones society attributes to “feminine” energy.

It took me time to see.

And I must say that my interactions with men helped me.

Somehow I ended up understanding that in order to be acknowledged and welcomed, I didn’t have to prove anything — even less that I could be as strong and decisive as they were. In other words: the more I was in touch with healthy men, the more I understood that I was the only one who thought I had to be like them to be accepted.

I progressively understood that my intrinsic strength was never questioned, and that men at peace with themselves really enjoy the presence of a relaxed, glowing woman — not someone trying to soften her edges while shrinking inside a tense body.

It ain’t easy. Because not everyone is at peace with themselves, and quite a few men have no clue how to relate to a woman outside of ingrained controlling patterns. Some believe they must save, fix, or teach us, when indeed the best thing they can do is simply be present — to listen, to feel.

Though obviously it is easier to hear and feel an animal that is not trying to over-adapt, not constantly trying to carve out some space to breathe.

I’ve learned that asking for support doesn’t make me weak or dependent, and that my male congeners also enjoy being listened to and felt, with no goal at stake.

It is so humbling to experience the journey from a constant state of defensiveness, ready to overreact to prove my strength, to a soft resting in my power — allowing myself to be the panther, the snake, or the koala*, whose inherent danger is acknowledged by all in the jungle. And with that knowing, to peacefully rest in my softness too.

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