I remember the first time someone called me a woman.
It was my first boyfriend. I was 16.
He was being polite. But I knew I wasn’t.
Sure I had the woman’s body, but I was a girl inside.
I had my first child at 25. I still felt a girl inside. Though the act of birth put me in touch with my woman power in the moment.
Two more babies. Two more touchings of the woman power. But still I felt a girl. At 29 and mama to three. I would think that the neighbours must think I was their older sister
It is only in the past few months I have felt a woman, become a woman, stretched into my woman-skin, inhabited my woman self.
How did it happen? Why did it happen?
I realised that it had happened, in retrospect. I felt like I filled my body fully – my large breasts and swaying hips. I fit my skirts and mama heart. I fit my moods. And I had learned to stake my claim on my own life.
To say: this is what I need. And I DO need it. And it is important. With clarity, with love, with courage, I took my own power in my own two hands and claimed it. I cut the ties I needed to cut, which for years I had trembled to touch, in fear that the world would come tumbling down. I stretched the limits of my reality and possibility. I I marked out the plot on this earth that is mine, and claimed it for my soul. Then flew my flag from the turret to signal to the other women out there that I am here, in the mother-land.
Greetings dear sisters.
When did you become a woman? How did you know you were? What did it take?