By: Sheyenne White
Women are often given very little freedom to devote themselves to authenticity. Considering this, what exactly defines a woman?
Is it her beauty? The way her eyes light up when she is talking about something that either fascinates or infuriates her. The way her smile transforms into a laugh when she cannot stifle her joy. The soft skin and curves that adhere to the artifice that plagues society.
Is it her scars? The marks that linger on her skin that beg for their stories to be told. The freckles from hazy days spent under the eye of the sun. The stretch marks that adorn her body and glitter in the sunlight.
Is it her intellect? The paradox of her loud mind and controlled demeanor. The bursting enthusiasm that refuses to be contained. The fortress around her mind that implores to be treasured. The thoughts that make up the fabric of her soul.
Is it her dignity? Her careful composure. Her unwavering confidence. Her disregard of propriety. Her unbending principles.
Is it her empathy? The beautiful acts of compassion that reveal her character. The kindness that is firmly tethered to her consciousness.
Is it her sex? Women are not confined by something as trivial as their biological anatomy. Being a woman is more than possessing female genitalia.
Is it her resilience? Her quiet strength behind her vulnerability. Her stubbornness to carry on despite doubts. Her ability to overcome the unexpected.
Is it her femininity? Her triumph over the assumption of weakness. Her refusal to believe in the incompatibility of femininity and intelligence. Her evolution of the word itself.
Is it her ambition? The ruthless pursuit. The unapologetic tenacity. The passion that fuels her drive. The steadfast conviction that paves her path into the possibilities of the unknown.
A woman is all of these things and none of these things. Womanhood transcends the banality and conventional parameters of language. Rather the composition of a woman is boundless. Womanhood is ineffable.
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