To Be a Woman

I was never taught how to be a woman.  It was never a choice I made.  So it was never something that I put much thought into.  Sometimes the word woman even almost makes me cringe when applied to me.  Maybe because the word woman seemed too mature for me, too momish, too much like a feminine adult.  Not that I have any issue with being feminine, I am feminine.  I just have never been able to box myself in with women who life fashion or makeup, or powerful women, or career women, or women leaders.  I don’t even group myself with women writers.  Because I just am a writer.  I just am a woman.

As a kid I was a tomboy.  It was what my mom wanted me to be.  She never wanted me to feel confined to being one thing.  She never wanted me to feel like I couldn’t do something just because boys did it.  I got to play paintball with my brother and his friends.  I got to play soccer and go hiking and ride my bike wherever I wanted.  I could wear silly tshirts with my favorite cartoon and shorts that I found in the boys section.

But I also got to take ballet when I wanted.  And I got to wear makeup and bikinis and carry a purse.  I could have sleepovers with all of my girlfriends.  I could bake brownies and stay up late watching chick flicks.

And I don’t really think either side of the spectrum makes you more or less a woman.  But it seems to have become popular to point out who is more woman or who is less woman or who is the best feminist.  It’s always been so hard for me to care.

I think I thought I had a lot to say.  But maybe I have nothing to say at all.  I am woman.  Hear me… or don’t.

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