Oh, To Be Feminine

Mother’s Day 2026 was the first time in a really long time that I actually felt feminine and beautiful.

Don’t get me wrong, I often feel beautiful. I am often treated like a woman by my peers in public and private. But a piece of me has questioned my relationship to femininity more often than I’d like to. 

I didn’t have many examples of what it meant to be feminine growing up. I was the oldest daughter in a single-mother household, and almost every woman in my family was either single or settling in a relationship with a lazy loser. Every woman in my book of preloaded role models existed in survival mode or something similar. That was normal to me. So when I was barred from returning home on college breaks, forced to come up with the remaining tuition money myself, or set up to sleep in a van on summer nights, it felt normal to me. Struggle and hardship were part of the general experience of womanly existence. I rarely had the chance to be soft or relax. 

And no, femininity is not just about being soft. There is strength in being a woman, from hormonal fluctuation, emotional regulation, and giving birth, but the alternate side of femininity was inherently hidden from me. There was no softness. There was no relaxation. There was only pushing through, getting by, fighting for, and fighting against. It is a mindset I’ve carried with me well into adulthood and parenthood.

Imagine my surprise to be living a life where I can redefine my idea–and relation–to womanhood and femininity. Initially, I felt like I was checking boxes. Motherhood? Check. Relationship with a tall man who presented as a strong provider? Sure. Shaved legs, plucked eyebrows, clean coochie? Check. Emotionally intune and intuitive? Check.

Check, check, check. And even still, with all of those imaginary boxes checked, I questioned my womanly identity. 

When in the room with other Black women, I found myself comparing us. Not in a way of jealousy, low self-esteem, and hatred; out of curiosity and a desire to grow and match their energies. 

How did the woman next to me present her womanhood? And how did she carry herself? Do I come across the same way? Do others think I am woman enough in these spaces? 

I’ve come to learn that there will always be a woman who is out-womaning you. And there will always be someone who is more feminine, who checks more boxes. And so what? I’ve learned I can’t rely on outside perception and how others treat me to define my feminine energy. It’s embedded within.

Every Mother’s Day, I expect something grand from the people in my life: to make my day blissful. Buy me breakfast. Get me flowers. Write me a card. Let me be at peace and absolve me of parenting responsibility. Make me feel like a woman, whatever the hell that meant. It’s almost like I expected others to define it for me through their actions. And though every Mother’s Day so far has been beautiful in its own special ways, I always felt like something was missing. I felt like I wasn’t being treated enough like a divine being, a woman. 

This year, I decided to take a different approach.

I was already in a space of diving into shadow-work and trying to deconstruct my weird relationship with womanhood. To rewire one’s brain, we must make different choices and approach things differently than before. So I did. Instead of relying on others’ actions and responses to me to determine my womanhood, I decided to define it myself. I asked myself what makes me feel beautiful. And to my surprise, it wasn’t even elaborate and grand. 

All I wanted to do was take a long shower, put on something breezy (with no undergarments, of course), eat some fruit, write a lil’ something, and smoke a lil’ weed outside. I promise I have never felt so much like a woman in my life. This shouldn’t have come across as a surprise, because I already knew those things made me feel womanly and at peace. I realized I’d always overshadowed–or maybe ignored–their gravity. I was chasing more when what I needed was always within grasp. My identity within femininity was already here. 

I don’t take this lightly. Femininity and womanhood do not consist of any checkmarks. There are no boxes to tick, no standards to uphold, no expectations that will shun us if we don’t meet them. Femininity is doing and existing in ways that make us happy. 

Femininity is slow mornings, a hot cup of tea, and a schedule review. Femininity is a journal entry, time on the Xbox, a twerk session in your bedroom, and a cuddle session with women you love. It’s card games with your daughter, time on the patio, errands on a busy weekday, and selfies in front of the city skyline. I have been existing within my own realm of womanhood this entire time. Instead of working to define womanhood, I should have been leaning into my own definition of it.  I should have been expanding my experiences as the woman I am.

Only now do I feel slightly selfish and foolish that I questioned my proximity to womanhood at all. I’ve always been a woman. And in recent years, I’ve been a happy, free one. Mother’s Day 2026 reminded me that simplicity is everything. And it reminded me that I can create a little slice of heaven all on my own. I am a feminine woman, and a damn good one. A damn happy one. A damn evolved one. And I will only keep evolving.