When I began to write as a young child I knew that my life and my experiences would be the one in the center of all of my work. This was simple enough, to write badly rhymed poetry about my loneliness. Without even realizing it I was adhering to the adage Write what you know. As I grew up into womanhood it became clear that my connection to the feminine was strong. I learned about the women of history. I discovered the goddesses. My life’s work would become about something greater than just me. What does it really mean, to be a woman?
Bear with me, as this is very high school research paper-esque, (Merriam-Webster, of course):
female
1 of 2
fe·male ˈfē-ˌmāl
1
a(1) : of, relating to, or being the sex that typically has the capacity to bear young or produce eggs
In a field of milkweed, I watched a female monarch butterfly deposit a single egg on the underside of a leaf.— Tom Tyning
A few months later, she became the highest paid female performer on the Great White Way.—
Susannah McCorkle
(2) botany : having or producing only pistils or pistillate flowers
a female holly
female inflorescences
b : having a gender identity that is the opposite of male
c : made up of usually adult members of the female sex : consisting of females
the female workforce
d : characteristic of girls, women, or the female sex : exhibiting femaleness
composed for female voices
a female name
e : designed for or typically used by girls or women
a female glove
f : engaged in or exercised by girls or women
female suffrage
female political power
g : having a quality (such as small size or delicacy of sound) sometimes associated with the female sex
female castanets
2 of a rhyme : having an unstressed final syllable : feminine sense 4b
a female rhyme
3: designed with a hollow or groove into which a corresponding male part fits
the female coupling of a hose
femaleness noun
All definitions with merit, but today, this is the one that strikes me the most:
b : having a gender identity that is the opposite of male
In this lifelong quest, I can dive down into those words and completely grasp the complexity of their meaning. We are in opposition to the male sex, at the very core of our identity. Our bodies, our life experiences, the way we walk the earth, all of our differences do not just make us different, they make us opposite. We are not them. And they, they most definitely are not us.
And the basis for my life’s work was the belief that all other women on this planet understood that meaning all too well. That we were kindred from the roots of the earth to the hair on our head. We shared a language unspoken.
Sometime in my thirties, after having children and living through #metoo and the fall of so many, I thought that what I had to say, my intrinsic and, in many ways, spiritual understanding of my sex didn’t apply anymore. The cat was out of the bag. The point was moot.
But this is November, in the year of our Lord 2024, in America. And now, I’m not so sure of any of that. The Tyrant is coming, and I have yet to understand the how let alone the why. Why did we not unite? Why the common ground was not that deeply rooted, kindred womanliness, but more likely the price of eggs. I’m realizing now the irony of that choice, “eggs.”
The belief in these early post-election days are that the Democrats failed to message on kitchen table issues, like the price of gas, and cost of living, and the never-ending saga of egg prices. One could argue for or against this notion (and we know how much a conservative stance loves to argue these days), but the idea that this came down to the simple concept: It’s always about the money.
That’s another deep dive, the misconception about who is more capable of helping Americans achieve economic success, but the thing that I have realized in these past few days is how much that pains us. That realization once again that half of this country doesn’t hold our morals, or beliefs or issues in the same realm. Not our circus, not our monkeys. I don’t want to convince you my candidate has the best plan to bring those eggs back to $.79 a dozen. I want you to look beyond that. I want you to feel in all sincerity why we were all created equal. Why men are not above women. Why woman should completely have autonomy over when she chooses to start a family, or not. Why racism is wrong. How Jesus wanted us to love others, not hate them. Or deport them. Or belittle them.
The numbers, as they came out, real or otherwise, have forced us to a point. The black community in America stood in solidarity. The rest of us went our separate ways. How do we reach one another? Let’s face it, the Dems over here, we pretty much thought we had the answer. It’s up to us to figure out how to fix that message, but in the meantime, America, we need to talk.
And for me, I’m going to sit over here and do my part. So follow along.
My Voice In This 
Leave a comment