These last weeks I spoke to you about the masculine energy and its beauty as well as what it could bring when integrated. My journey towards inner unity is a little like the seasons, it’s a continuous molt, a sequence where an awareness leads to another. As I wrote the last lines on this masculine energy’s beauty, the news announced the death of a woman; murdered simply for being born female and having chosen to live her passion: caring for others.
While inner peace was settling in me, I heard my femininity crying. Suddenly, I saw all those childhood moments where I heard “you can’t, you’re a girl” rise to the surface as if it were being a sub-race. All those times my own family echoed how much the woman was greedy, manipulative, good for nothing, lying, profligate.
These words darted into my flesh like a shame to be a woman, because I didn’t see myself to be all that. Then came adolescence, with its features that appeared when I turned twelve and these men who through salacious jokes, whistles or mimes of sexual acts left me in a state of permanent insecurity. I started hiding to avoid feeling that desire energy coming from outside; this energy that appeared far too early in the life of a girl who was not yet a woman.
Then there was the media with commercials that showed women who were either damsels in destress, nincompoops or witches. Commercials displaying our buttocks to sell a car or other things… Words from men, fathers, brothers, cousins, teachers who in a completely unconscious language conveyed how much the woman did not deserve respect. The actions of these unknown men who gave themselves the right to touch my breasts or my buttocks anonymously while passing by me in a market crowd, or a crowded bus, camouflaged by the crowd and yet giving themselves the right to do so. The list of inappropriate words and gestures is so long…
I am not a feminist activist, but my femininity cried.
She could have been crying for the humiliation conferred upon women and, if I stayed at the surface of her tears, that’s what I would have seen. But she cried for me, for us. For all those years I hid her thinking I was protecting her. She cried and whispered, “Let me out, I don’t want to die.” Because that’s what I did and many women do, kill their femininity to ensure their safety.
While peace settled in me alongside my masculine energy, its feminine counterpart was finally able to speak safely. She told me about her desire to dance, to express herself, to exist, in all simplicity. She told me about her dreams and ideals. I listened and it was beautiful. I listened and chose to release her, to let her be, to give her back her life.
It took the death of one woman to awaken another. It’s sad. Terrifyingly sad.
To those men who have chosen the barbarians’ language, I reply with a big NO. No, I will no longer bow, no I wouldn’t bury myself internally anymore for you to feel superior.
To the men who already have respect for us, I say thank you and thank you for educating your sons to respect humans, regardless of sex, religion or ideals, thank you for educating your daughters with the dignity of who they are.
As for women, I invite you to be and to live your femininity without shame, without fear. I invite you to educate your sons with the notion of respect and equal rights so that your daughters can proudly embrace who they are. Because we are also responsible for not appearing as submissive, maids, victims or objects, so as not to be treated as such. For millennia, we receive the energy we emit; would it not be time to change? So let’s change our energy, our positioning, to change the world.
As my feminine energy cried, the masculine gave way. Today they advance in unison.
It took the death of one woman to awaken another. It’s sad but I thank her for enlightening me.
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Author: Christel Mesey
Website: www.joywhisperers.com – www.christelmesey.com