I Am A Woman.

I am not a bitch.
I am not a whore.
I am not a slut.
I do not use my genitalia to manipulate or denigrate another human being.

My sexuality is priceless; my sensuality unrivaled, because it is uniquely mine. I would not seek to compare or compete with another. I am me.
I am beautiful.

I love who I am.
I love my body, my shape and my colors. I love the feel of my own skin, the texture of my hair, the changing hues of my eyes. I move like a woman. I dance softly to the music inside of me, in everything I do. I am frail. I am precious. I am easily hurt. I touch my belly, and remember the warm excitement of a tiny body growing there, the indefinable flutter of another heartbeat resting below mine. I exude femininity; I am soft, sweet. But my soul is unconquerable, my commitment to myself unbreachable.

I Am A Woman.
I Am Strong.
I carry the legacy of generations of women who have endured, and conquered, the injustice of a world that has deemed them inferior simply because of their gender. Women who have stood under the violence of angry and frightened men, who have fought back against the machine that would keep them in skirts and kitchens, who have realized the dreams of their mothers and grandmothers. I belong to a quilt comprised of luminous hope; of rainbowed threads of amazing, wonderful, unbreakable women. I have witnessed the struggles, I have heard the cries, I have seen the fragments of who we are. I am reminded of the compassion, I have felt the love of who we continue to be. I will not turn, I will not submit, I will not die. I have stood in the face of mockery, I have smelled the hot breath of spite, I have seen the glare of indecency. I have felt the blows of hatred upon my body. I have protected myself against a world that would rape me, body, mind and soul. And I continue to love. Because I am a woman.

I love my children tenderly. I wake in the night to soothe their dreams, I sing soft songs, I cradle and rock them in gentle arms. I rise at daybreak, to sweep away the shadows of yesterday and breathe prayers of hope for today. I prepare my children for a world outside my care. I bandage their wounds, correct their mistakes, and support them unwaveringly. I shelter them. Fiercely. My presence, strength and love cover them in the heat of an unkind world. My back is unbending. I am their Mother. There is no greater force.

I love my man passionately. I am there to comfort him when his efforts go unrewarded. I stand beside him, silently, to support him when he is strong, and vocally, when his strength is waning. I touch him carefully, to ease his anguish, to fulfill his dreams, to encourage and appreciate him. I am there, always, to please and honor him. I release my longing to him; my desires are received. I celebrate with him, admire him, burst with the pride I have in him. I have held his hand, and I have held his tears. He holds my heart. He builds me up, and creates a strength in me that cannot be defined or diminished by any other being. I am his alone. There is none other. He is my pillar. I am his Woman.

I live in the whispering memory of my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother’s lives. The wind brushing over my face carries with it the scent of lavender and wheat, the warm reminiscence of American summers built on hard work and love. I shoulder the mysteries of women who struggled in fields, barns, desert shacks, dreaming of another life, but accepting the day; women who kissed husbands and sons bound for war goodbye; women who stood bravely in the truth that those husbands and sons may not return. I come from the battles of the Irish, the Scottish, the Italian women who stood in hot rooms, cooking, cleaning, loving each other with stories and songs and memories. I hear the echoes in my mind of women who imagined, women who walked on, women who stamped their feet in the soil of history. I learn integrity, strength and wisdom from the women whose bloodline I travel. I am proud. I am fortunate. I am beautiful. I remember.

I come from the Earth. I will return. While my feet tread the path, I will plant seeds of life, nurture relationships, and reap unforgettable moments. I will speak kind words, offer my hands, carry the weight of another soul too heavy laden. My spirit will pass from here content and free. I have been a woman. I have felt emotions unexplainable to men. I have had the courage to love and say, “I love you.” I have been beaten, broken, sacrificed and forgotten. But I have endured. And I continue to grow. I have sat in circles with women, feeling the drumbeat of our hearts, for a peaceful future, a softer touch, a quiet passing when our time has come. I have promised to be kind. I have promised to hope. I have promised to remember where we have been, how far we have come. I have promised to keep walking.

I am not a bitch.
I am not a whore.
I am not a slut.
I Am A Woman.