“Kitten, what do you love about being a woman?” Allan asked. We were sitting on a bench outside of the ice cream shop where we jogged to. I licked my vanilla ice cream while contemplating the question. I don’t recall ever being asked that question by anyone.
“What’s not to love about being a woman?” I asked.
“Women are always complaining about how men treat them badly and take advantage of them. What’s your take on that?” he said.
“A man cannot treat me badly if I don’t allow him, nor can he take advantage of me if I’m not there to be taken advantage of,” I said. “So no. I don’t find that to be true for me,”
I thought about his question after he left.
What do I love about being a woman?
I love that I can give life. And that I’m a nurturer.
I love that I am soft and sensual.
I love the tantalizing curves of my body, and the sway of my hips.
I love that I’m a temptress without intent.
That I can disarm a man with a glance. And stop his heart with my fingertips.
I love my undeniable, undefeatable spirit.
I love that I can, have, and will break through any and all limitations placed on me.
I love that if left to fend and feed myself, I can and will become a hunter with killer instincts and powerful strides.
No one definition can do justice the depth, complexities and strength of a woman...
I wear many faces and play many roles. I bend and flow like weeping willows. I am the embodiment of resilience.
I love that I have it in me to do what's necessary to survive.
I am a lover, sometimes forced to fight. A dreamer sometimes forced to set down the dream. A partner and mother who sometimes give more than I have. Sometimes I lose my way...
But when the time comes to take a step back, I look at the masks I wear, the roles I play, and the things they hide. And piece by piece, I peel them away to stand naked and celebrate what I’ve achieved and who I have become. And I smile.
I was a swan all along.
I was always going to be a butterfly.