The pleasure of being a woman

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My draft inbox is filled with many unpublished writings. Scrolling through some, (fifty in total!) –  the content certainly puts smiles upon my face . While other blank posts – such as this one – with poignant titles, make me wonder what it is exactly that I was experiencing emotionally at the time to inspire them.

As a child, I always kept diaries. In fact, it is a habit that I fed right through to my adolescence, which has now culminated to writing on digital platforms. When I think about it, writing always came more naturally to me than speaking. To date, my anger and anguish are best expressed through my fingers; the type of person who – dare I say it – gets too anxious when confronted face to face to utter anything comprehensible ( I blame that on maternal inherited character traits ) –  but passionate, emotive and articulate when handed a pen and paper (CAPITAL LETTERS READY!).

This has equipped me with the ability to dissect situations that I may find myself in, in a unique way: bird’s eye view, process view, top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top, logically, chronologically, wide-angled view (yes, that exists!), side-view (that too!) face-palmed (yup!), side-eye (totally!). To say the least, I have honed the skill of ‘perspective’ – unequivocal, unshaken, unbeaten and proud.

the coockiness in me is a shared entity

Perspective is, in my opinion, one of the most useful tools when you are a woman. It is the one common thread that we have as females regardless of our background or values , which permits us to discuss the same darn topics with our girlfriends or sisters for hours on hand without getting bored; whether you are the First Lady of a country or Plain Jane trying to figure out your place in the world. Those are pleasures of being a woman.

There is a certain comfort that I have, in knowing that the coockiness in me is a shared entity; not only that, there is something about being a female that allows you to connect with other women in a way that men will never comprehend. Those sentiments of sisterhood, created from fragmented connections – of beauty secrets, career quests, milestones and bedroom diaries – are inherent to complexities, yet rich and satisfying. Can men boast about the same abilities to form relationships with complete strangers as women do? I think not.

The pleasure of being a woman, is being whole yet defiant in my individuality. An ease and reiterated confidence that comes with age, of unspoken sex-appeal and zeal exuded in one’s stride. In defiance to conform to gendered societal roles – while seeking to re-construct traditional [African] ideals of womanhood; it’s a balancing act, but so what? I’m a woman!  I can be outspoken about a bottomless topic  at dawn, then unapologetically change my mind by dusk – proudly standing by my newly found convictions.

As women, our abilities to own our imperfections and the things that make us interesting should be celebrated, refusing to be put into a box that define what a woman should be, how she should act, what she should say, permeate the narratives of womanhood…. What a pleasure!

What’s pleasurable to you as a woman?

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