I put it in a frame and look at it from afar. So majestic and sublime, I’m full of wonder at the sight of it, taken aback by everything that’s invisible. The strength and the confidence in every gesture, so natural and yet so precise, it makes me feel warm.
I want to get closer, understand and grasp it, but once I step into the picture, it’s the heat of defeat, the inability to live up to something I‘ll always admire but will never posess. I‘m left with broken glass.
Do I feel feminine? What is femininity anyway? And what does it mean to me?
It‘s hard to come up with a definition, so I did what I always do: go with the feeling. And I guess feeling is something society attributes as something feminine, which is as problematic as ascribing it to weakness. But when I think about it, those are the the only features I really identify with – when I think of other people‘s femininity, I think of their strength. When I think of mine, I can‘t help but feel weak.
Someone once told me if you want something to be changed in the world, just act as if the change has already happened. So in order to reframe femininity, you have to do the hardest thing: start with yourself.