It's all right for a woman to be, above all, human. I am a woman first of all. Anais Nin
I am a woman. Do you see that? I have long pretty hair, though I keep it tightly bound in slender braids there is always the hint of movement, the idea that it could be loose and flow about my small shoulders and they are small, my shoulders, the slope gently to my arms. Strong arms, sure arms. Arms that can pull and tug and shove.. and hold and sooth and hug. My hands are slender, slightly long, my fingers tapered. I take care of my fingernails no matter what work I have done. I want to have soft hands, touchable hands. Feminine hands.
I am a woman. Do you see that? I have long pretty hair, though I keep it tightly bound in slender braids there is always the hint of movement, the idea that it could be loose and flow about my small shoulders and they are small, my shoulders, the slope gently to my arms. Strong arms, sure arms. Arms that can pull and tug and shove.. and hold and sooth and hug. My hands are slender, slightly long, my fingers tapered. I take care of my fingernails no matter what work I have done. I want to have soft hands, touchable hands. Feminine hands.
My smile is soft, it teases the corners of my eyes. My smile speaks the words of women, the mystery of my sex. The very thing men want to capture, step upon, pick apart and make sense of. Being free means they cannot. Being free means I am free to fustrate them with my smile, with the glimmer of something more in my almond eyes. When I demurely look away I am suddenly a woman and men can only chuckle at themselves and wiles of a woman. Because I am free, I cannot be captured.
I have breasts. Oh I keep them tightly wrapped, hidden from the eyes of others, for I am a modest woman, a feminine woman. When I worry, when I fret, my breath with deepen and grows audible, a little hushing sound though my lips that causes my breasts to rise and fall and remind you.. I am a woman. I am feminine.
My belly slopes, curves into my hips. I have grown life there, inside of me. I have been heavy with child, I have proven again that I am a woman, I am feminine. I am lightly scarred there, marks that will never fade, will never leave me like my children one day will. Now and then I will draw my soft hands over my belly and you might, by accident, shamefully, glance there and recall again.. I am a woman, I am feminine.
My hips are flared, slightly widened with the efforts of child birth. Still they are small, a mans hands can fit there comfortably. My hips rock tightly when I walk, unlike a slaves easy saunter, my gait is more controlled, less feminine. But it hints, as do my hips, that I am a woman, I am feminine.
My skirt is long and heavy, but slit on each side so you may see, now and again, the shape of my calf, the muscle there, the strength I possess in my thighs. Because although I am a woman, and I am exceedingly feminine.. I am a Tuchuk woman and I have known work. True.. I have often had not been forced to work but that never meant I did not. I have never greased an axle and this seems to really, strangely, bother people. The fact that I , Asria of the Year keepers, spent more time raising my children and tending to the fires then getting dirty, or greasing axles because slaves can do it just as well as I. This has torn at my friendships, put wedges between me and those I care about it.
It hurts. And it hurts because I am a woman, I am feminine. My friendships mean everything to me. I need the connections of other women in my life, even more then I need the connection of a man, right now. I am incapable of understanding why, in order to be 'a good Tuchuk' I must get dirty? Why is it so terrible to allow a slave or, shockingly, a man to see to the more.. well, manly things that need to be done? When my wagon wheel breaks I will always ask Fonce to fix it for me. I will offer him a drink while he does it and perhaps a meal. When I need meat for my children I will always depend on a Hunter, most often a man, to get it for me. And if he offers to cut it up for me? I will not object to being spared that ugly task either. I am a woman, I am feminine.. but Skies help me if one more person implies that my feminity alludes that I am weak or unintelligent.
Since I have been brought to the first fires, by Fonce, so many.. many.. many..many months ago, I have been held back because of my feminity. Because I allow men to see to my needs. Because I accept that I am a woman, I am the fairer, weaker, softer sex. It takes strength to accept this, you know. I am not weak for knowing who I am. I am strong for understanding, accepting and dare I say.. relishing my place in a world of men.
I have always sought out Fonce to guide me when things like this upset me, bother me. But this time? This time I do not need his advice and I am rather sure I already know what he would say.
"You are fine just the way you Asria." And he would grin.
I have breasts. Oh I keep them tightly wrapped, hidden from the eyes of others, for I am a modest woman, a feminine woman. When I worry, when I fret, my breath with deepen and grows audible, a little hushing sound though my lips that causes my breasts to rise and fall and remind you.. I am a woman. I am feminine.
My belly slopes, curves into my hips. I have grown life there, inside of me. I have been heavy with child, I have proven again that I am a woman, I am feminine. I am lightly scarred there, marks that will never fade, will never leave me like my children one day will. Now and then I will draw my soft hands over my belly and you might, by accident, shamefully, glance there and recall again.. I am a woman, I am feminine.
My hips are flared, slightly widened with the efforts of child birth. Still they are small, a mans hands can fit there comfortably. My hips rock tightly when I walk, unlike a slaves easy saunter, my gait is more controlled, less feminine. But it hints, as do my hips, that I am a woman, I am feminine.
My skirt is long and heavy, but slit on each side so you may see, now and again, the shape of my calf, the muscle there, the strength I possess in my thighs. Because although I am a woman, and I am exceedingly feminine.. I am a Tuchuk woman and I have known work. True.. I have often had not been forced to work but that never meant I did not. I have never greased an axle and this seems to really, strangely, bother people. The fact that I , Asria of the Year keepers, spent more time raising my children and tending to the fires then getting dirty, or greasing axles because slaves can do it just as well as I. This has torn at my friendships, put wedges between me and those I care about it.
It hurts. And it hurts because I am a woman, I am feminine. My friendships mean everything to me. I need the connections of other women in my life, even more then I need the connection of a man, right now. I am incapable of understanding why, in order to be 'a good Tuchuk' I must get dirty? Why is it so terrible to allow a slave or, shockingly, a man to see to the more.. well, manly things that need to be done? When my wagon wheel breaks I will always ask Fonce to fix it for me. I will offer him a drink while he does it and perhaps a meal. When I need meat for my children I will always depend on a Hunter, most often a man, to get it for me. And if he offers to cut it up for me? I will not object to being spared that ugly task either. I am a woman, I am feminine.. but Skies help me if one more person implies that my feminity alludes that I am weak or unintelligent.
Since I have been brought to the first fires, by Fonce, so many.. many.. many..many months ago, I have been held back because of my feminity. Because I allow men to see to my needs. Because I accept that I am a woman, I am the fairer, weaker, softer sex. It takes strength to accept this, you know. I am not weak for knowing who I am. I am strong for understanding, accepting and dare I say.. relishing my place in a world of men.
I have always sought out Fonce to guide me when things like this upset me, bother me. But this time? This time I do not need his advice and I am rather sure I already know what he would say.
"You are fine just the way you Asria." And he would grin.
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