It’s okay to be a woman. To say you’re a woman. To believe the basic science we were taught from kindergarten to college and beyond. It’s okay to love all your pieces and parts, and reject anyone that says otherwise.
As we disappear into the unknown, and hang back from all the news, computers, plastic, and overcharged male dominance, it feels good. We are safe and loved and happy.
We sit, we wait, we observe. We enjoy our sacred ancient rituals under the moon and stars. We revel in the knowing that our womanhood remains undefined, yet so defined. We enjoy our sisterhood and are happy to eject the men who try to pierce our circles.
Men have always overpowered us and managed us and dominated. We are used to this; it’s nothing new, it’s just a new twist.
We ground ourselves further. We plant ourselves deeper. We love ourselves more.
We keep swimming, running, competing, studying and fighting to keep scholarships, accolades, and our voices. We are stronger, wiser, and more resilient than ever. We have nothing to prove. We are women. We are being women. That is plenty.
We keep fighting for our own femininity and for Mother Earth. We keep studying to be architects, builders, business owners, politicians. We keep working to be in power and bring in the era of matriarchal hierarchy. So that we can save our Earth and society before it’s blown up with the push of a big boy with a button, before more of us are killed for senseless wars.
Rosetta Malf 