Howdy family!
It’s Thursday, so I’m posting on the blog as usual! I was writing an entirely different post and decided to scrap it. My heart was in the wrong place. I much more enjoy writing authentically candid pieces that roll off my fingers as I type versus trying to write something catchy or thought-provoking.
Take a guess which one this is.
It’s March, and in honor of Women’s History Month, I want to share my own history. You already know what time it is: storytime.
This is a story about a little girl who grew up into an angry man. You read right; I skipped a grown woman and went full butch. But seriously, I once read a quote, “If you’re raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house.” Let me explain how I grew to be that angry man, but I’m not transitioning.
I let my life experiences, my circumstances, and the world turn me hypermasculine. My entire life, I have seen women be the heads of households. My aunties moved dressers, built furniture, and did the grilling for the 4th. My Granny once told me she had never had a man pay her rent in her life. She was married (and divorced) five times. This is not to discredit any woman mentioned but to highlight that within my family dynamics, women were expected to do and be everything for themselves. They brought home the bacon and cooked it, too, so I felt like I had to play both roles. Besides, I didn’t have many positive male figures in my life to show me otherwise. The men around me were serial cheaters, abusers, womanizers, and hobosexuals. And angry. They were always so angry. I remember when I tried breaking it off with my eldest daughter’s dad, and he blacked my eye because of it. I was in the 10th grade. Or the hole my father punched in the wall when his mother shared the news that she was expecting my uncle. That’s after he already had me and she was a grown ass woman. Where did all that anger come from, and why did I let it become me?
I became, in many ways, a man in my own life. I was a go-getter, grinding after what I wanted. Since 14 years old I worked a job, at times two jobs because I was such a “hustler”. Hyperindependence prevented me from letting anyone help me. It kept me supervigilant, on edge, ready to make the first move before someone else did. Avoidant attachment and commitment-adverse, I strung multiple suitors along, sexing them like a man would. Never caring for the impact I was making on my psyche. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a romantic at heart (or so I’ve heard), and my authentic interior is soft and supple. After all, I am a Cancer rising; nurturing and mothering energy oozes from me. But just like the crab that Cancer represents, I have a tough exterior shell. And I tricked myself into thinking that it was really me. It caused me to be out of touch with myself and at odds with my own emotional nature.
I hated being sensitive; I was taught that this was a weakness. Another thing I’m learning is sometimes, we’re taught things covertly. The words are never explicitly said, but the intended outcome is implied. Why would it be out of the ordinary for a little girl to cry? When that little girl became a mother, her masculinity went into overdrive. Wouldn’t that be counterintuitive? How so, when that was the only form of womanhood, much less motherhood I’d known? Women were the breadwinners, the fighters, the protectors, the decision-makers. And while all those things are valid, the reasoning was due to survival, not instinctual feminine nature.
I’m all grown up now, and I’m going through the change. I’m allowing the angry man in me to die so the intuitive woman in me can be born. That rushing, hustling, aggressive self, that’s not even me. It’s a running joke between me and Papa that it’s Ross (my dad) coming out when I get like that. And he’s not wrong.
There’s no excuse of not having an example anymore. Learning my Human Design has helped me realize I am here to set an example for my younger self. She’s still alive, deep within me, probably reading this blog with tears of pride. The grown woman in me moves slowly, receives help, creates with love, honors her cycles, and is in tune with her emotions. She is powerful, spiritual, and still me. I learned that I’m not an angry man but a Divine spiritual being having a complex human experience, worthy of devotion and care. I realized it’s okay to be soft; it’s my duty to rest, and I deserve to receive support. It’s easier said than done, but it’s been liberating for me to accept. The feminine energy is truthfully the embodiment of that acceptance. Acceptance of what is, what was, and what will be, and the grace to find peace throughout. Know that this energy resides in all of us, men and women alike.
We’d greatly serve our society by embracing the yin within.
With love always,
Cousin Lex
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