Defensive Femininity and the Burning of Bra’s

Okay, somehow along the way you have forgotten how to be feminine. Your tough, you take no crap. Your ready for whatever slime ball gets in your way. So this my friends is how I have been living lately. Not like I have been wanting or say even realizing I have been going this way. But life as it is ‘Comes at you fast’ at least some large company dictator once said. I have still not quite established something. How can one be kind and controlled but not carry a sign that say’s weakness the size of the b-town Mcdonalds billboard for smoothies? Never-mind. . . It seems though its easy to feel vulnerable, and it is also easy to feel defensive. Or wait maybe it is just me, still dealing with the little monster running from ear to ear. Nonetheless, it is true I cannot for the life of me figure out why I have been so ‘tough’ lately. I think its–don’t laugh, could be the absence of sharing all those say girly feelings. Yanno a true sort of heart to heart. Or maybe I have been living in self defense mode. Surviving on self  instead from the one who made me. In all the toughness I been ignoring the pulls I have on being feminine, yet while its need is unyielding. It goes beyond today. Early in childhood I remember a neighbor girl pushing her stroller and her ‘baby’ around almost everyday. Wasn’t once I remember seeing that girl without her doll. Meanwhile, I was being girly by picking dirt out of cracks in the sidewalk. And I still wonder where is that super mother feminine drive. Where was my doll? No dress-up’s at least as I can remember. Closest thing I ever came to was Barbie. But again I took more pleasure in the Barbie car – strapping a leash to the front and dragging it like a boat through the creek. Finally I have provided you a more accurate portrait of me. Sometimes I wish there were more photos of me that maybe I could try to get into the head of that little girl. Just hoping that maybe finding that little girl will somehow make sense out of this now big girl. And maybe I can fix myself in the process. But you or I cannot go back, its came and went. But it is somewhat comforting to realize I have always been this way. I think I have viewed womanhood somehow very wrong. I still don’t know were I got this. To this day I feel the need to defend being a woman. And today I felt like burning all my bra’s. But what is it am I so afraid of? Is being a woman really that bad? In as much as my head says different I am glad I am what I am. And at least I can be super girly and constructive at the same time. I think maybe its a fear I have. Not being smart or useful enough in a mans eyes and not being subdued enough to be a woman. But to be fully do-it-full is exhausting. And being purely emotional, doubly exhausting. I like being in-between. I might  do things maybe a bit different from the rest. And I think doing things different sometimes is necessary. But I am also afraid of people’s reaction. For example, the best picture of being a mother I can muster of myself is a vision of me with a baby strapped around my waist as I pose above a garden with a hoe. Yep, flattering I know. And spending the day teaching our kids life survival lessons on how to gather eggs, milk a cow, and kill a chicken. Yep, that’s my motherly dream. And its real. And I can’t help but think of that neighbor girl. And how different of a mother she’d be. She would be able to teach her children how to dress a baby doll. A true mother teaching her daughter how to be motherly. And I– she would have to shield her children’s eyes from what I would teach my kids. She could pin her girl’s hair with berettes and I would fasten ours with a braid that would not interfere with the hard playing.
Its true some or should I say best memories as a girl was doing non girly things. Cleaning a fish the first time, camping in a tent at my aunts farm, or capturing snakes. One time my cousin and I captured a water moccasin. I was very proud of our capture and though being so I expected everyone else would be thrilled also. But to my dismay, one glance into the bucket and Grandpa’s stern reply was “Get that outside, then kill it” . Luckily I had my uncle John who seen my sadness in killing such a neat creature , when he took me up to the back forty without my grandpa knowing and help me release it. So maybe my sympathy for the snake was showing through. I could be compassionate.! There must be hope for me! But I think each mother has her own traits thats makes them the best mother for their child. Don’t you think? I wouldn’t expect all daughters to all have the same upbringing. Some may be brought up to love pink dresses, and baby dolls. And some may abhor the baby doll and rather have the Tonka truck instead. But I am fine with being either mother. As long as I can teach that girl or boy that what they are is valuable. And that they are just fine. And to encourage them to be beautiful and covered in mud or handsome and cooking. So I think I did more than brief you on the inner working of my mind today. And I think that the best thing I can do for myself is to work on being more feminine and not to spite the bra, the dress, and the emotion. But to actually learn more about myself and to stop making myself the holding ground for my self criticism. There for me are no concrete answers on my negative thoughts towards being girly, but finding out I have these thoughts is one step in the right direction. And even a step forward to heal all wounds. Known or not.


One thought on “Defensive Femininity and the Burning of Bra’s

  1. Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. We are so lucky to be living in a time (and a country) where being a woman can mean whatever we want it to mean. There is very little that we cannot do and the choice is ours. Be girly or be what could be considered more traditionally “masculine.” The lines are blurring between what’s feminine and masculine. You are perfect as. you. are. No worries. God doesn’t judge you for it and no one else does, either (or at least, they shouldn’t and what does what anyone else think really matter anyway?).

    Oh, and as for mothering… no matter what kind of mother you choose to be, your child will grow into their own person. Your influence only goes so far… If the boy wants to play with the baby doll, or the girl with the truck…

    Love to you!!!

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