Real women breathe new life into old spaces.
And old wisdom into shiny new places.
Real women know that love is the beginning and the end of womanhood.
There is love, or an absence of love and this humble truth tells all.
Real women insist that a real woman needs no surface-level definition.
Before titles and waist measurements, she was. And after, she will be.
Real women do not sit around debating what shape qualifies.
Because even two good eyes can’t spot what the soul sees.
Real women know that anatomy has nothing to do with how womanly one is.
Unless you’re talking about the warmth of her heart, or the flexibility of her mind.
Real women have vaginas, penises and everything in between.
Her choice of vessel is many, an infinite array of physical forms.
Real women have hairy legs and perfectly lined, red pouty lips.
If you can detect her with your five senses alone, you’ve been tricked.
Real women know that body beauty is a thing bound by time and space
But that the feminine and its sacred strength are always, all ways.
Real women see each other with wild eyes of veneration.
She knows that the sisterhood is a force immeasurable.
Real women intuit that our children don’t need definitions and debating.
Young humans become real women when we stop judging and start being.
Real women have curves and real women do not have curves.
Really, real women can hold opposing ideas gently in the same tiny space.
Real women know that what trumps all is the desire to be a real woman.
Do you want to be a real woman?
Then, yes indeed, you m’lady are as real a woman as I’ve ever written about.
Apprentice Editor: Keeley Milne/ Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock