My fingers weave webs. A sticky tangled mess of my understanding of what it means to be a woman, of what it means to carry Eve in my palms and to carry my mother in my skin and to one day carry a daughter in my womb. I have been weaving my youth further into age. In doing so, I have been attempting to unravel my frustration from these vines, the aggravation that I experience when I feel as though my emotions are too much to be harbored within these bones. In a clash of passion and pain, the war of anxiety ensues, and I feel a lack of remedy to bring an ease.
My mother birthed me to be a moon, yet I was not so prepared for the eclipses that would take place. My body being sexualized. My forbidden fruit being explored at too young an age. My emotions being suppressed. My identity being shaped at the hands of society. Existing in the body of a black woman has taken me through many trials.
In times now, I have been practicing coming to a terms of peace with my experience with womanhood. This road has not always been easy, but there is more beauty to the journey of getting to know the strength that has been produced from such tribulations.
As any woman, we all expect the other to help us understand the stronghold that Eve’s biting of the apple has passed down to each generation since. Every woman since Eve has had the chance to break the chains, or at least soften the hold they have around our wrists. Every woman has had the hopes of not passing down such treachery of life to her daughters.
I know that as much as she may have wanted to, my mother couldn’t protect me from the snake whose duty was and is to deceive. She could only teach me and hope that I had the discernment to know which fruits to not sink my teeth into. I hope that one day I carry such wisdom to teach the same lesson.
I am on a journey now of growing to love and appreciate the brown moon that I am. In doing that, I am learning how to heal my wounds and soften my pain so that in the day that I bring a daughter into this world, she won’t have to bear the weight of the wars that her mother did not fight. I will teach her that womanhood is beautiful and that there is nothing questionable about being a moon. I will teach her to rise and rise and rise again. Until then, I will continue to rise on my own, as my own woman.