the underside of womanhood

and to those who have experienced it

A few weeks ago, friends were due for a meetup. We were excited. Almost everyone I loved would be at arm’s length. It’s not often this becomes my reality, but there’s hardly ever a moment I didn’t wish it was.

We gathered as expected. All in the same building. Different seats. Different outfits. Different dates. I was eager to meet the people my friends had chosen to share the night with us. But by the end of the night, I was saddened by the disconnection between my core group and the new arrival (date).

Her energy is unwelcome.

That was the summary of my thoughts that night, but it’s deeper. It always is. On the surface were big, pretty brown eyes, a flawless smile, carefully applied makeup, and that good, soft skin. Internally, a war was raging.

And I couldn’t help but wonder–

Who hurt her?

I’m not referring to men. If she lined up her entire backlog, I’m almost certain they’ve all had a hand in hardening her core. But that’s with them. It’s hardly that way with us.

Girls.

We’re safe spaces. We’re confidants. We’re magicians. We’re girls. We’re allies.

So, the question lingered all night as she avoided conversation, chose not to laugh even when everyone was doubled over with sore jaws, and sighed every few seconds. Because it wasn’t her reality that I was most interested in. It was the reality of all the girls like her.

The ones who are uncomfortable around women. The ones who are intimidated by other women. The ones who immediately activate their guard when another woman crosses their line of vision. The ones who don’t trust other women. The ones who don’t love other women. The ones who maintain a distance from women. The ones who view women as threats… not allies.

It’s disheartening. And it leaves me to wonder how many women have experienced the underside of womanhood. The side that hardens their core and shifts their gears the moment new women are in proximity.

Curiosity led me to write the words of this article. Because that mug on her face and those ignored questions and that silence didn’t affect the incredible time I had with friends. It affected the wholeness of my womanhood.

It magnified the ugly truth. It dirtied my lens. It ripped away my bandage. And it made me face the fact that there is another side of womanhood where there’s no whimsy, no allegiance, no community, no kindness, no love, no softness, no smiles, and no connection.

And as a result of experiencing that part of womanhood, one is left scarred. Damaged. Hardened. Unhappy. Traumatized. Forced to protect their heart, peace, and sanity by avoiding eye contact, switching into defense mode, twisting the features of their pretty faces, and disapproving of any connection proposed –temporary or not.

Frankly, that must be exhausting. Carrying the weight of the pain that was never supposed to be yours. Dealing with the pressure of liberation in a room full of faces that resemble the ones who have caused you turmoil. Wanting to be a part of something that you know can be glorious, but your heart won’t allow you. Being reminded of what that hurt felt like each time you hear a woman laugh or speak.

So to the women who are feeling the strife of the underside…

I apologize, girl. Though I am not the one who hurt you, I’d love to be part of the committee that heals you.

I apologize for the discomfort they forced onto you. I apologize for the nasty words they said to your face and behind your back. I apologize for the gossiping. I apologize for the physical altercation. I apologize for the betrayal. I apologize for the lies. I apologize for the sneakiness. I apologize for the hardships they caused. I apologize for the secrets of yours they told. I apologize for the joy they stole.

This is your journey, and I can’t tell you how to steer the wheel. But I would be lying if I said I don’t wish you could experience the other side of womanhood where there’s growth, maturity, a village, loyalty, consideration, respect, evolution, laughter, genuineness, whimsy, softness, joy, and sisterhood.

We can’t wait to greet you. It’s incredible over here. Come when you’re ready. Come healed and come whole if you can.

If you loved this post, you’ll love my snail mail club, The September Letter. Every month I send a letter to women all around the world. Every piece of mail includes a letter and a poem.