Sunday, March 13, 2005

On my 100th post on this site, I simply could not think of a better way to celebrate it than with a post on which I could celebrate the very essence of my being… Happy Woman’s day, for every day is truly ours…

Woman´s Day

A day especially set to remember these incredible creatures that are a part of our lives. I thought of the great women I know, great writers, singers and actresses: women with talent and expression. I thought of the not so famous women such as grandma, mom, my aunts, my teachers and work colleagues: each with their own individual personalities and womanly contributions. Then I thought about all the great women I didn’t know, women that suffer daily in the midst of wars and poverty, career women, poor women, mothers with children to love and feed; women who submit to strict social rules and women who strive for equality and respect. After thinking about all these women: I felt very small in the world.

The most I’d gotten from my male colleagues were grumbling noises about how men should also have a day for them. I didn’t even bother to argue their feeble protests. To me this was just another day, another opportunity for hypocrites to pretend to cherish their women and another chance for many women to once again feel unappreciated and forgotten. It saddened me that even with so much evolution in the world; women are still suppressed and underestimated in society, family and the workplace.

I once sang Britney’s “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman” song with feeling and recognition. I knew then that I was somewhere in between and on this day, I asked myself what it is that makes me so sure that I’m no longer a girl and already a woman?

I suppose I could trust my friend’s judgment when not too long ago we saw each other for the first time in months and immediately he remarked “There’s something different about you, you’re more of a woman”
It felt true at the time but it cannot confirm the answer to my question, so I tried figuring it out on my own.
I pay my own bills, make my own choices and take responsibility for the changes in my life… is this what makes me a woman or is this merely what makes me independent?
There are skirts in my closet, make-up in my bathroom and high heels on my shoes… is this what makes me a woman or what makes me feminine?
My skin is soft and sensitive, my brassiere indicates that I have breasts and the fact that I’m required to visit a gynecologist… is this what makes me a woman or does this simply prove that I’m equipped for mating and bearing children?

What makes me a woman?
Is it that monthly cycle? My long hair? My interest in angels and butterflies? My fear of spiders? My voice, my touch?

I found my answer under the warm spray of water in my shower. It isn’t just the curves I possess, or the physical features that tell the world that I am a woman. It is my soul, the way I see and feel about the world. The way the water runs down my back, sticking my hair to my skin as if I was enveloped by my own soft curtain. It’s the way I feel when I see the flickering of a candle or when I smell the scent of something sweet. When a man looks at a plate, he sees food whilst I see nourishment. When a man looks at a house, he sees shelter and protection, I see a home. It’s not what I see, but the way I see it. It’s not how I react, but how I feel. It’s not what I do, but how I do it… this is where the difference is between the sexes. This is what makes me a woman.

Yes, without a doubt, being a woman is worth celebrating! So I called my mother, my aunt, and my best friends and decided to make it a girl’s night out. The age gap did nothing to upset the amazing woman’s night out. Our conversations involved ripping off the guys and congratulating ourselves for being survivors in a man’s world. It felt great to be in the midst of some of the women I most admired, it was their joy and laughter that soothed my soul. Watching them laughing over a glass of wine and strawberries with cream, I felt honoured to have them in my kitchen and be their presence. Going wild on the dance floor, we cheered each other on forming a big circle of women that no outside male was allowed to penetrate. Letting the music guide our souls, I watched as pure feminine spirit was celebrated and for those hours that I was with them, I didn’t feel so alone in my battles with the world.

In the man’s world that we live in, I’m proud to be a woman.

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