MC, (2016), Superia 800 film

For a long time, I conceived of femininity as a defect, a blight which gave rise to of all of the weakness I despised in myself and eschewed in others. The flaws which left me vulnerable to sharp tongues and cruel intentions, to the chorus of voices whispering, shouting, proclaiming my lack of worth. The frailty which emboldened those who would seek to own me; to fill me with their ire, their filth, their sadness- to discard me once depleted. The raw sensitivity to the heedless whims of a broken world.

Over time this resentment has lost its edge and been smoothed over by a respect for the power of the feminine: the threads woven through us which entwine to build a home, a vessel in which to store ourselves and carry others for a time. The deep well of quiet patience and forbearing grace; of the hard-won wisdom, which allows us to be our own mothers, our own lovers. 

I have since worked to create a space to manifest this feeling. A haven where the things I need and the things I love can be safely harbored. Where I have learned to greet my feminine self, and revere its soft resilience- which can swell with tremendous strength.