I’ve always said I prefer the company of men to women. But, as far as I can remember, I’ve never had a man in my life be totally present with me, support me fully, be there when I need him. In fact, I’ve had far more women do just that. My mom, for one, has loved me as unconditionally as any human can, has never turned away her ear or her company, has supported me and my best interest totally, and has wished me joy. Women healers have unwaveringly been on my side, ceaselessly doing their best for me. Whether their actions, in the end, felt like the medicine I needed or not, I cannot deny their loyalty or the sense that they would climb mountains for me; that they, to the end, knew I deserved to feel healthy—and that they would advocate for me as long as I presented myself in their offices and in their lives.
Women teachers have never stopped rooting for me, or communicating with me. They have taken the time to read and support my writing years after I appeared in their classes.
And fellow women journeyers have come back even when I thought our connection was lost. They have sent emails and reminders across the waves of the Internet, making sure their words travel far enough to reach me. When I haven’t heard from them for months or even years, they come back to tell me, after reading my writing or hearing of some other small endeavor of mine, that I make them proud to be a woman and my friend. They fail to see a quiet connection as a dying connection, and pop into my life with the timing of serendipitous—or synchronicity-imbued—clocks.
This is not to say all women have been friendly or kind to me, but that’s ok. We’re all working across wounds, trying to connect over the gaps and breaks we’ve experienced in our lifetimes or collectively, across time, space, and individuality. And this is also not to say that no man can offer me love for who I am, presence, conversation, unwavering support and advocacy on my behalf. No, what gives me hope is the certainty that he is out there. Many of him, flocks of men who know that to be a man is to be both masculine, strong, and gentle. Men who embrace women—and other men—fully, openly, lovingly. Men who support each other and live in a way that understands how rooted we are in each other’s destiny. Men who send good vibes to all living beings, humans and our non-human companion creatures.
What I’m realizing here is that it’s time for me to embrace my femininity, my womanness. I’ve shunned it too long not realizing what’s possible when I’m in it, what magic, love, and support it holds. I believe that embracing our womanness holds the key to peacefulness in our souls, in our lives, and in our world. And anyone can embrace this—man, woman, child, animal, tree. We cannot repress this aspect of our being any longer; we cannot shrink away from the fullness that being a woman, or embodying womanness, requires.
It is time to savor our womanness, to connect fully, joyfully, satisfyingly to our enduring femininity, our innate sense of peace, care for ourselves and others, love, connection, and support. Savoring our womanness will not only ring the bells of global peace, like a cheering crowd animating each other, one after the other, in a full body wave across the world, but will clang the bells of pleasure, allowing us to embrace who we truly are.