the woman’s woman

i spent years trying to be a “girl’s girl.”

which, apparently, means being agreeable enough to make everyone comfortable while shrinking yourself into something non-threatening and endlessly palatable.

smile bigger.
be sweeter.
don’t intimidate.
don’t outshine.
don’t say the sharp thing out loud even if everyone is thinking it.
pretend not to notice hierarchy.
pretend not to notice power.
pretend not to notice when women are being sacrificed to make rooms easier for mediocre men.

a “girl’s girl” has become branding.

an aesthetic.
a performance.
a pink bow wrapped around silent competition and curated solidarity.

because let’s be honest.

some women say “girls girl” the same way corporations say “we’re family.”

usually right before they ask you to tolerate something insane.

i am not interested in performing womanhood to make people comfortable anymore.

i am a woman’s woman.

which is different.

a woman’s woman tells you when there’s lipstick on your teeth and when the man you love is dimming your light.

a woman’s woman does not secretly enjoy your downfall because your beauty made her insecure.

a woman’s woman understands there is enough air in the room for brilliance, motherhood, softness, ambition, rage, intelligence, sensuality, leadership, grief, and reinvention to coexist.

a woman’s woman knows women are not strongest when they are most agreeable.
they are strongest when they are most honest.

and honesty is not always pretty.

sometimes honesty sounds like:
your husband is emotionally unsafe.
sometimes honesty sounds like:
you are disappearing trying to save everyone else.
sometimes honesty sounds like:
you do not actually want this life anymore.
sometimes honesty sounds like:
i love you too much to lie to you.

girlhood is performance.

womanhood is discernment.

and i think part of becoming a woman is realizing not every soft voice is kind and not every sharp woman is cruel.