The Cross of the strong independent woman
The Cross of the strong independent woman!
Now, before you dive into the following letters and well thought after paragraphs, please know that this is my opinion, story, thought, and first-person narrative of the ordeal. You don’t have to agree with each line, but please read it with a warmer glass of water.
I can’t recall how many times I’ve heard “you’re strong and independent” in the light of a compliment – one that explains a woman who is goal-oriented, strong-willed, and has all the things she would never need another human for. The strong independent woman who has her own, built her own, and owns all the right to her gold.
They don’t tell you that being strong and independent is often created from a series of events that lead you to make a solemn decision to fight and conquer until the end. They don’t tell you that being strong and independent could stem from a decision not to relive traumas or resist the desire to be soft, vulnerable, and feminine. They don’t tell you that being strong and independent could be a curse, some heavy cross—one as bright and strong as the thread our grandmothers made with their hands.
I’ve been told you’re strong and independent; I’ve felt every need to prove a point, a point that translates to not needing anyone but myself. To prove I’m more than enough to cater to and, most importantly, never let anyone come close to hurting me. To cover up the feelings because the rest of the world that didn’t hurt me might most likely choose to do me wrong at some point. An unfair judgment, but that’s the story behind my strong and independent chant.
Could I blame it on being responsible for myself too early or learning too soon that people would kick you right where it hurt and make you beg for a hand up? Perhaps I could throw blames on failed relationships, betrayals, and childhood traumas that have kept me fighting. I can’t tell if it was getting burned twice in a row by the ones you loved that finally got me reciting, “I would never let anyone hurt me again.”
Let me tell you what that line meant; it meant that I would work my butt off, push myself too far, be too hard on me and not let anyone too close cause I have trust issues that are now full-blown in adulthood. But you know the truth, people want to feel needed, and people need to feel needed, and my ideology so far has been wrong.
While some have moments that changed them, like experiencing bullying and abuse, my strong and independent flag resulted from the pain no one talks about. A friend recently said, you know you’re a tiger; no lion would come close. In the past, that would have been a compliment with me beaming of joy and fulfillment that I was a force to reckon with, but right now, today, it’s not so. I painstakingly realize that I want to be vulnerable. I need to be vulnerable, to stop pushing, and allow myself to feel. I want to explore the path of being soft and feminine. To apologize when I’m wrong and let the tears flow if it hurt too much.
I’m very young in this journey, and maybe I would disappoint a few who have admired this tiger’s strength and ruthless independence, but I want to unlearn the lies about strength and independence. I want to stop fighting. I’m tired of fighting. I want to stop with barricades and signs that read, “you can’t touch me.” Well, touch me here; I want to not care for being a tiger. How about I take a better form as the lioness, some very thought-after balance of feminity and strength.
I’m learning and unlearning, and taking in the proper doses should help me embrace myself. Yes, I might be yet to understand the full scope of being feminine, but I’m on this path, and I’ll walk it through. The learning process is a mix of both—a rebirth of feminine and vulnerability. I’m not sure I have enough rights to speak on the latter, but I will stop by again to let you know how it’s going.
I’m not against being strong and independent. But herein lies my truth, and it’s nothing but love and light from me.
With daisies and sunshine,