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Our culture degrades women daily, infecting us with ideas that we should be small, quiet, and bite-sized.
So let’s clear some things up—
A woman is not just a nurturing creator. She is not just gentle, patient, and sweet.
We fear death and destruction because it isn’t pretty—but it is nature. It is a part of life. It is transformation. And it is healing.
It is the rotting moss, the gritty heartbreak, the devastating dark of midnight.
It is the sad, brown grass in winter that leads to the fresh, fragrant buds of springtime.
And so a woman is not always cute or pretty—she is messy and glorious as she coasts the lands of her soul.
She is covered in sweat and tears, dirt, jasmine, sex, and wonder.
She growls, purrs, whispers, sings, and shouts.
Why make her small to fit a predetermined definition created by society?
Why fear the beautiful power of her sensuality?
Why fear the dark and complicated shades of femininity?
‘Cause she is not just gentle, patient, and sweet. She is not a perfect wife, friend, mother, or lover.
She is so much more.
She gets angry, scared, and swears sometimes—f*ck, she feels so much.
She cries, and not just composed, delicate tears—but wide, howling sobs—she contains an ocean of unfathomable depths.
She has cellulite, wisdom, and wrinkles, too.
Does that scare you?
‘Cause it’s written in the full-bodied truth of a woman, when she stomps her feet on the ground and lightning crashes because she’s throwing down a boundary.
It’s in the storms of her past pain that cause earthquakes to quiver under her skin and rain to beat down her cheeks in time with the pulse of the earth as she makes what used to hurt into freedom and art.
It’s in her hope.
It’s in her smile, stubbornness, and laughter.
It’s in her ability to care about this world. And herself.
It’s all the sh*t she’s had to face for being a woman.
Look at it.
It’s her honey-flowing lava passion and the rolling sways of her hips that can move mountains.
It’s her laser-like intuition, her grounded calm, her fierce, fiery heart, her brilliant mind, her powerful voice—and the ways she gives and receives.
It’s all of this—a constantly turning kaleidoscope of textures, colors, movements, sounds, and feelings.
Dare to see a woman in her ripe moon fullness. Her wholeness.
She is so strong and brave.
She is glorious.
She is determined.
Yes, her softness is a jewel! It’s precious beyond measure.
But there are so many jewels contained within her.
It’s her quivers as she moans and contacts ecstasy, so delightfully at home in her body because she knows what she likes, oh yes.
It is her dark edges.
It is the light that pours out of her eyes.
A woman is no small thing.
She rises in the face of oppression.
She roars at preconceived expectations.
She loves fiercely.
She cares so deeply.
And yes…she is unafraid to use the word “vagina.”
May she own it all—the badass sensitivity, the curiosity, the boundless joy, the trembling passion, the magic, the sexiness, the howling wildness, the softness, the incredible courage, and the anger.
Every part is wondrous.
It drips with ancient wisdom and speaks in a religion whispered only through her knowing gaze and the thrilling curves of her body.
So no—she is not just gentle and sweet.
She is so much more.