We were discussing the difference in our romantic history when she said that she has learned much from how I carry myself with men. That I am a blueprint for how she now moves in this world.

We have always been polar opposites. For over 27 years, she has never been single, and this was done without discernment. Meaning, any man would suffice. There was no standard and there was no demand but for a male body. Her value was rooted not in how she saw herself, but rather in how men saw her sexually. More to the point, it was in who men wanted her to be. Conditional; it has always been conditional. She believed she had power because she was deciding when she “gave it away.”

I would always support her, and tell her how much I loved her while asking her repeatedly if there is really any power when the driver is seeking validation and value from men (due to unhealed childhood trauma wounds), or if the power comes only when we recognize that we are whole, and value-full without the approval of (wo)men?

Because how is it that women (especially women, as we are the ones who give final consent) still don’t understand that there is nothing easier than getting literally fu(ked? That the value isn’t in having a man throw himself into us when he would (because almost all of them will ) throw it into anyone, but rather in understanding that this is how we make low-hanging fruit of ourselves?

I have always been the opposite, and I am absolutely undeniable. My power is in knowing who I have always been and the gifts I bring into the lives of men. My value rests within me and it has never once hinged on how a man sees me or whether a man has liked me or not. And men always treat us as we treat ourselves. When we degrade ourselves into a hole, guess how men will view and treat us? When we make our bodies available without the requirement of commitment, without the requirement of care and love and gentleness, what do we attract? What have you always attracted, my love?

And though you have convinced yourself that it’s only sex, is it? Check in with your heart and tell yourself the truth, without the delusion that your body is separate from your heart and soul. Without the delusion that you can walk away after getting laid, and shrug it off.

How is your heart, my darling, after you get physically fu(ked and are left to clean your legs up as he immediately turns away to look at the woman who demands he elevate himself from his physical body?

My girl finally figured this out. After almost 55 years, she has pivoted. She has finally told herself the truth, and in so doing, she has finally come into her own. The challenge now is for her to forgive herself for never before demanding more; to forgive herself for making a masturbatory space for any man who looked at her with lust.

My God my body is physically sick with the thought.

One of my sharpest memories from high school was when a friend was devastated that some bro didn’t want to have sex with her. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why this had shaken her to her sobbing-in-the-coffee-shop core while chain smoking and eating toast and drinking terrible coffee. Like some kind of demented surveyor, I genuinely asked Wouldn’t it have been worse if he said you weren’t interesting?

She looked at me like I’d  sprung a second head. I never received a straight answer.

Sidebar: Let me put the marker down that I was a chubby little chunk in high school. I didn’t care what I looked like, I was too busy absorbing information and reading books and daydreaming to care about boyfriends. I didn’t have my first kiss until university, and no man ever told me I was beautiful until my first boyfriend also in Uni. (I nearly vomited when he said it because I’d never heard it before, and it genuinely confused me. We laughed all of the time; why didn’t he tell me he thought I was funny? Isn’t that more important?, I thought to myself.)

Yes. He was gorgeous (still is). 6’2”, sandy brown hair and the warmest green eyes on anyone I’ve ever seen. He did (still does) this thing with his eyebrows that turns his face into a cartoon and it still makes me belly-laugh.

I came into my own looks in university, and it only got better from there. I understand and acknowledge the beauty privilege I have, but none of it matters if my energy is ugly. So my focus is there more than my looks. Also my shoes.

Back to the point of this article which is that I hope every single woman stops seeing her value in the gaze of men. Stops seeing her worth in whether or not a man fu(ks her. Again, and a million times always, ain’t nothin’ easier than getting fu(ked, Sis. But does he respect you? More importantly, Do you respect yourself?

When you are standing before God, after the veil is lifted and you are to answer for your choices. When all of your secrets are disclosed to every single human you lied to, most especially those who loved you most, will you be able to hold your head up high? Will you be able to declare to them: I was honest with myself. I loved and respected myself enough and that was reflected in the love and respect, honesty and care I showed you?

Will you be able to say this with a clear and full heart to those whom you lied to, yourself being the first one to make this very demand of you?

As mentioned above, my girl is in her mid fifties. It took her until her early fifties to begin this shift; to look for value in her own eyes and in the woman looking back at her in the mirror, rather than in the eyes of men.

Which is to say that it’s never too late. It’s never too late. Patterns are made to be recognized and then broken. It is never too late to remember that your worth isn’t in how hard you might suck his di(k, but in how hard you believe that you are value-full and worth the intimacy of genuine in-the-Sun and out-loud adoration. That you are not a dime a dozen in the women he shrugs off, but rather are the one for whom he wants to show up as the best version of himself, with care, integrity, the best behaviour, and the fullest heart.

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