What being a woman means to me

I was recently tasked by someone very dear to me to tell them what being a woman means to me. When I think about that, I think of a lot of things. This time those thoughts came out as a poem of sort.

(mild content warning: mention of suicidality)

I think of the abstract

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of the abstract things that are hard to put into words.

Being a woman means a sense of home to me. I visualize it as two rooms. One is filled with men and the other is filled with women. I can exist in the room that is filled with men, but I can never relax. Not because I am under duress or because I fear for my safety, but because I do not connect with the men since I am not one of them (even though some of them might think so). Conversely, I immediately feel at home in the room with women. I might not know any of them in there at all, but I still know that we have a connection and that that connection establishes a sense of belonging and safety I do not get elsewhere.

I’d like to think that this exists outside of the patriarchal structures we find ourselves in, but I also have no way of verifying that.

I think of the contradictions

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of the contradictions that keep popping up.

I have both always been a woman, and I still have a need to continue my transition. I am already perfect, but I have things I want to improve. I am not doing this for anyone else, but some of the changes I do are to get the reactions I want out of other people. Gender in a way doesn’t matter to me, until it suddenly really does. I don’t see gender as something superficial, but the superficial things that I do to enhance my femininity matter to me greatly. I am at peace with my body, but I am also excited to see what it can do the further I go into my transition.

I am perfect and I love myself, but there are still ways for me to go.

I think of all the things that have made sense in retrospect

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of the past and all the times I should’ve known.

I think of when I was ten years old and I was bullied into joining the girl’s basketball team during recess, only because I had long hair. I did not understand why that was something bad, because to me it felt correct. I think of when I changed my gender on my social network profiles at age 16 and justified it as “I’m being a little troll”, whereas I think I always knew it was something else about it that I liked but couldn’t yet articulate. I think of when I was put in drag for masquerade parties and my friends always told me that I smiled with my whole body and that I shone with a glow I didn’t do at other times. I think of when I slept with a bisexual friend and she told me that I “lick pussy like a lesbian”.

I think of all the signals that were clearly there, and how I was always able to rationalize them away. The notion that I was a woman was always there but it could never land, because I didn’t know that was a path that I could take.

I think of what would’ve happened a hundred years ago

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of the fact that I am alive when I am.

I am forever grateful that I am born in a time where my transition is a possibility that exists. The processes we currently have are incredibly far from perfect, but they are also infinitely more than nothing. I often think of what education means for those of us on the margins, and how even in our age of all the information ever it was still a struggle for me to learn the language I needed to vocalize these intrinsic feelings I had. What would have happened to me if I was born a hundred years ago?

I tend not to think about the past too much since the past tends to contain dark sadness and frustrating confusion, but this is one of the exceptions. I am lucky to be where I am, and I am doing all that I can to value that luck and become the person I have been all along. A hundred years ago, I don’t know how long I would’ve been around.

I also don’t think of some things

When I think about what being a woman means to me, there are some things that are absent.

I don’t think about death anymore. I used to. A lot. In my darkest moments, I visualized myself as floating in deep water, ready to be gone. Just to be a wave that exists in one minute, and then floats out into the bay to disappear forever in the next. I have never been suicidal, and I have never sought to harm myself. But, thinking about death and more importantly - having the pain go away - was enticing and alluring as I was lying on the bathroom floor in tears I had no idea where they were coming from.

Being a woman means that I don’t think about those things anymore. I don’t have to, because they are no longer needed. That pain is no longer with me.

I think of the boy I used to be

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of the boy that I used to be.

He was so tired.

He was tired from all the fighting he had to do, in battles he had no idea how to win or even why he was in them. He tried and he tried, but nothing worked.

He was so very tired.

He lied awake at night, trying to figure out why he was always struggling and why there was never any relief. He knew something was wrong - he knew he needed to fight - but he could never figure out what was needed from him. He helped others, but he could never put the mask on himself first. There was never a mask for him to put on.

He was so so very very tired.

But then, finally, I came along. And almost in an instant it all made sense. The battle was never his to fight. And it was never his fault. So I could step in, and I could give him the one thing he ever really wanted.

He finally got to rest.

He is still with me. He is me and I am him. But he is no longer in charge. I am driving now, and he is in the back seat, sleeping. I still have his memories, and whenever I can I let him see all the things that we are doing together. But, he keeps sleeping.

He deserves that.

I think of where I could go

Lastly, I think of the woman that I want to be - the woman I am going to be.

She is mothering to those who needs it. She makes everyone laugh, and she heals their wounds when they are hurt. She moves through the world with empathy and compassion, and she is not afraid to seek out her joy. She finally uses her body as an instrument of pleasure for herself and those she holds near. She becomes the cool auntie to the children in her life, and she is the sparkle of life for everyone else around her. She builds a home that is steady and safe and warm. She lives her life with passion and she seeks to see the world. And, all the while, she looks amazing while she does it.

When I think about what being a woman means to me, I think of a woman who lives without fear and without sorrow. I already am on the path of becoming her, and I can’t wait to be even more of her.