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<\/a><\/h3>\nI\u2019m sitting here listening to the sounds of my husband giving his mini-me a bath—our daughter.<\/h3>\n
I often \u201cjoke\u201d that looking at her must be like looking into a mirror for him.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a constant reminder to me that we are people, first and foremost, before we are men and women.<\/p>\n
That said, we live in a world of gender inequality and gender stereotyping and I, for one, am a huge proponent of advocating that we look beyond gender and into the hearts, souls and minds of the individual.<\/p>\n
Still, I\u2019m a woman<\/a>\u2014and I\u2019m proud to be one.<\/h4>\nWhile I\u2019m fully aware that not all little girls want to wear dresses (I didn\u2019t as a child), I\u2019m equally more than aware that some do (my husband\u2019s mini-me\u2014my daughter\u2014for example).<\/p>\n
So, the thing is, I\u2019m going to also be a proponent for being allowed to be proud that I\u2019m a woman and of everything that this means to me, even if I\u2019m also suggesting that what being a woman means to me is, and should be, vastly different than what it is for someone else.<\/p>\n
And I want to be able to loudly proclaim my pride about both my femininity and the strength and ferocity that I equate this gleaming title with.<\/em><\/p>\nI\u2019m a woman. I love tall boots and tight jeans.<\/p>\n
I love long hair blowing in the wind and short hair, freshly chopped off.<\/p>\n
I love both my small breasts and my swollen, pregnant ones.<\/h4>\n
I love wearing my husband\u2019s shirts and form-flattering dresses.<\/p>\n
I love shiny rings and sweaty skin.<\/p>\n
I love reading a book and then watching the movie.<\/p>\n
I love my aggressive attitude and my tender heart.<\/p>\n
I love throaty, head-tilted-back laughs and seductress glances that come from the pit of my stomach.<\/p>\n
I love a new bra and a worn-in t-shirt.<\/p>\n
I love gold-flecked lipgloss and four coats of black mascara.<\/p>\n
I love fresh-faced mornings in a sexy cotton robe and talks that could go on for hours.<\/p>\n
I love sex. I love my body (after a long time of hating it and teaching myself how to love it).<\/h4>\n
I love that my body is preparing to give birth and the way my skin hangs differently from having my first child.<\/p>\n
I love my independent spirit.<\/p>\n
I love the way writing makes me come alive<\/a>.<\/p>\nI love my bare nails and believe that nothing can have too much glitter.<\/p>\n
I love raunchy humor and subtle smiles.<\/p>\n
I love perfectly placed exclamation points and unexpectedly blunt periods.<\/h4>\n
I love everything about being a woman and, most of all, I love that female readers will probably bombard this post with raging comments that this is not a woman, to them, at all\u2014because we are all unique and self-defined.<\/p>\n
But, I\u2019m a woman.<\/em><\/p>\nAnd I love my gender, my sexuality, my femininity and my rebelliousness against it too<\/a>\u2014and I want to celebrate these things just like we want to celebrate other facets of self-identity that are less categorical and likely to offend.<\/p>\nYet being a woman isn\u2019t something that\u2019s black and white.<\/h4>\n
Take this story about Indian sprinter Dutee Chand.<\/a><\/p>\nChand is being told she can no longer compete as a woman because her testosterone levels tested too high.<\/p>\n
Yet Chand is a woman. She celebrates being a woman.<\/em><\/p>\nActually, she\u2019s currently fighting this definition that just because her body looks stereotypically different than a \u201cwoman\u2019s\u201d and because her naturally occurring testosterone levels are supposedly not low enough to be a woman, that she is still a woman and deserves to compete as one.<\/p>\n
Her options, if she wants to compete under current athletic regulations: take drugs or have surgery to suppress the testosterone that her own body makes.<\/em><\/p>\nSo, yeah, being a woman isn\u2019t black and white.<\/p>\n
Some women prefer white cotton panties while others prefer red lace (and some go commando).<\/p>\n
Some of us drink our coffee black and some with milk (and others not at all),<\/p>\n
But being a woman is something to be proud of; it\u2019s something to be so proud of that we refuse to let others define what being a woman should mean to us\u2014and what it shouldn\u2019t.<\/h4>\n
So I\u2019ll slip on my new black booties and my snug jeans. I\u2019ll rub my hands over my rounding belly that houses a growing child for possibly a few more days.<\/p>\n
And I\u2019ll celebrate being a woman.<\/em><\/p>\n
I\u2019m a woman. I love tall boots and tight jeans.<\/p>\n
I love long hair blowing in the wind and short hair, freshly chopped off.<\/p>\n
I love both my small breasts and my swollen, pregnant ones.<\/h4>\n
I love wearing my husband\u2019s shirts and form-flattering dresses.<\/p>\n
I love shiny rings and sweaty skin.<\/p>\n
I love reading a book and then watching the movie.<\/p>\n
I love my aggressive attitude and my tender heart.<\/p>\n
I love throaty, head-tilted-back laughs and seductress glances that come from the pit of my stomach.<\/p>\n
I love a new bra and a worn-in t-shirt.<\/p>\n
I love gold-flecked lipgloss and four coats of black mascara.<\/p>\n
I love fresh-faced mornings in a sexy cotton robe and talks that could go on for hours.<\/p>\n
I love sex. I love my body (after a long time of hating it and teaching myself how to love it).<\/h4>\n
I love that my body is preparing to give birth and the way my skin hangs differently from having my first child.<\/p>\n
I love my independent spirit.<\/p>\n
I love the way writing makes me come alive<\/a>.<\/p>\n I love my bare nails and believe that nothing can have too much glitter.<\/p>\n I love raunchy humor and subtle smiles.<\/p>\n I love everything about being a woman and, most of all, I love that female readers will probably bombard this post with raging comments that this is not a woman, to them, at all\u2014because we are all unique and self-defined.<\/p>\n But, I\u2019m a woman.<\/em><\/p>\n And I love my gender, my sexuality, my femininity and my rebelliousness against it too<\/a>\u2014and I want to celebrate these things just like we want to celebrate other facets of self-identity that are less categorical and likely to offend.<\/p>\n Take this story about Indian sprinter Dutee Chand.<\/a><\/p>\n Chand is being told she can no longer compete as a woman because her testosterone levels tested too high.<\/p>\n Yet Chand is a woman. She celebrates being a woman.<\/em><\/p>\n Actually, she\u2019s currently fighting this definition that just because her body looks stereotypically different than a \u201cwoman\u2019s\u201d and because her naturally occurring testosterone levels are supposedly not low enough to be a woman, that she is still a woman and deserves to compete as one.<\/p>\n Her options, if she wants to compete under current athletic regulations: take drugs or have surgery to suppress the testosterone that her own body makes.<\/em><\/p>\n So, yeah, being a woman isn\u2019t black and white.<\/p>\n Some women prefer white cotton panties while others prefer red lace (and some go commando).<\/p>\n Some of us drink our coffee black and some with milk (and others not at all),<\/p>\n So I\u2019ll slip on my new black booties and my snug jeans. I\u2019ll rub my hands over my rounding belly that houses a growing child for possibly a few more days.<\/p>\n And I\u2019ll celebrate being a woman.<\/em><\/p>\nI love perfectly placed exclamation points and unexpectedly blunt periods.<\/h4>\n
Yet being a woman isn\u2019t something that\u2019s black and white.<\/h4>\n
But being a woman is something to be proud of; it\u2019s something to be so proud of that we refuse to let others define what being a woman should mean to us\u2014and what it shouldn\u2019t.<\/h4>\n