Tessa Renken
I am constantly mourning the little girl I used to be.
I carry her with me wherever I go,
and I don’t think it’s so true that I am not her
as it is that she
was a version of myself which was pure me incarnate.
Full of hope and joy and recklessness.
I am not her and I mourn her,
yet I am her and forever will be.
I am the in betweenthe everything of my experience.
I wholly know I am a part of woman;
I know Her aches and pains,
I thrum with the very nature of Womanhood.
And yet I feel a disconnect.
Not that I am Woman
but that a woman is whatever I make it to be
whatever I am.
I am a woman,
but I feel my form does not align with my spirit.
Nor am I Man,
though I find myself at times resonating with that creature.
I am myself,
an entity I fear may never match my face or this world
but feels more strong to me than any face could.
I am ineffable and shifting,
I am me.
I am not Man
but I am not without man
I am woman,
but I am independent of what you view as a woman.
My womanhood is not defined by you as a viewer,
but by whatever I am.
Yet I am not solely a woman.
I am also other.
Not a contrast to femininity,
but a statement to my nature.
Do not look at me and say,
“That is a woman, take her example.”
Instead drink me in and say,
“God, how free they are.”