The Gender of Champions

“When a woman rises up in glory, her energy is magnetic and her sense of possibility contagious.”
― Marianne Williamson, Woman’s Worth

That’s just so beautiful, so powerful and was SO freakin’ hard for me to learn.

I’ve been feeling SO incredibly proud of women these days.
In our groups, the Wednesday group, the Divine Feminine and others, we are reinforcing our connection to each other.

Women Empowering Women.

Shit! Talking about Marianne Williamson, she just ran for congress and Hillary may have a good shot at the presidency.
We are “in the arena” as Brene Brown would say.
Boy, are we ever!

This post is about the power of the feminine. 
Sorry guys.
The word vagina may even be bandied about.
You can either celebrate us, or take your balls and go home. ;-). I can say that because, for many years, my boss and everyone around me, swore I “had a pair.”

I kicked ass in a predominately male oriented business.
I was a fierce and ferocious negotiator. I could go toe to toe with the most grizzled, experienced diamond dealer, and he would finally call UNCLE, pay MY price and walk away, balls in hand.

Men were terrified of me.
I was all lipstick and lashes, but that was just to disarm them; then I’d go in for the kill.

BALL BUSTER was my middle name.

I used to swell with pride when I heard that. That was my admission to the boys club, whose glass ceiling I was determined to shatter.

I was also the enforcer.
Men would get that damp upper lip and lower their eyes when they saw me walk up to their booths at shows, to collect on their past due accounts.
They knew I would stand there until they provided me either a check or a credit card number. No excuses accepted.

I was not well liked. But that was alright by me. I was respected and I didn’t care if people liked me, I was there to do my job. To make money.
In our unspoken, boss/employee, good cop/bad cop routine, I was happy to take the fall.

That did not bode well for my romantic life.
I was killing it at the store, but it was crickets in the bedroom.
Great quality men have since told that they were intimidated by me. Flirting was OUT. OF. THE. QUESTION. too vulnerable. (which is hilarious, because now, I LOVE to flirt; just try to stop me)

In my world, surrounded by a sea of men…NOT ONE ever asked me out. In almost twenty years, I never dated anyone in the business.
I dated younger men because they didn’t mind my tough exterior. For some reason, I didn’t scare them.

They did all have one thing in common, every one of them had an extremely well-developed feminine side. WAAAAAAY more than me.

I actually learned a thing or two about sensitivity from them.
THAT is the kind of man who is attracted to a woman who has a highly developed masculine side.
Makes sense…

After living my thirties as a man……

I decided to soften up. To feminize.

At first it felt fake and contrived. I wore my vulnerability like a straight jacket. One size does not fit all. And, I felt like a weak suck; but I was determined to “fake it until I could make it”
Often I went overboard, as you tend to do before you swing back to the center. I know I did. Thank God there was no social media around then to capture any of that shit for posterity.

I took numerous seminars.
I drummed and chanted in all female prayer circles and sweat lodges. I laughed, cried and divulged all my secrets at weekend retreats in Big Sur.
At one evening class that was recommended by a “friend”; twelve strangers practiced nude hot yoga and were then given hand mirrors to go into a tent to look at our vagina, and report back our observations. A minor detail this friend had omitted from her endorsement of the class.

I’m pleased to report, contrary to popular belief, that NO balls reside between these legs.

For the love of all things holy……There I sat, in our discussion circle, naked and in full “church laugh” mode, (silent, with just my shoulders violently shaking) thinking this had to be, hands down, the craziest night I’d ever spent, and what a great cocktail party story this was going to make.

That is, until two women who were rape survivors spoke. That was one of those moments.

It was the start my deep ADMIRATION of women.

Year after year, my studies continued. I read SO many great and enlightening books about getting in touch with my inner Goddess. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant was one of my favorites, I read it three times….in a row.

With time, I began to soften my approach, my tone, my hair color, my clothes, EVERYTHING.
Slowly, l let my guard down. I learned to smile and even laugh at work. I have Sally and Steph to thank for that.

“A queen is wise. She has earned her serenity, not having had it bestowed on her but having passed her tests.
She has suffered and grown more beautiful because of it.
She has proved she can hold her kingdom together. She has become its vision.
She cares deeply about something bigger than herself. She rules with authentic power.”
-Marianne Williamson

Authentic power is rooted in collaboration, compromise and kindness.
The wise woman, the Queen, has authentic power. The princess, not so much.

That was the problem, I was still a girl…whose misguided thinking…led her to try to be a man.

What struggles have you felt trying to balance your male and female? What helped you to find that balance?
Please join the conversation, I’d LOVE some of your insights.

With love,
Xox