Confessions of an Ex-Man-Hater.
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That’s right, I used to hate them. Who did they think they were, using women’s goddess energies for their own selfish needs?
Non-reciprocating love-mongers who gobbled up women’s love to fuel their own engines because they couldn’t fuel their own otherwise. I saw them as users. Manipulating selfish pigs who couldn’t stay faithful to anyone, let alone themselves. Sucking up women’s vaginas as if trying to climb back into their mothers wombs. Refusing to deal with their mommy issues. Projecting them all over the rest of us.
Verbally vomiting everywhere and leaving women to clean it all up. I saw men as violators of the sacred Divine Feminine heart.
I despised how they would walk into this sacred holy temple worthy of all your kindness, caring, love and humble attention, and see none of its beauty. Instead, they would leave a wake of garbage, assumptions, abuses and shit everywhere.
How dare men trash the feminine temple! Seeking nothing but self-gratification to deem themselves worthy in a fake society filled with women selling their over-sexualized Barbie-doll faces to anyone who shows them a shred of attention. No wonder men do it! They are socially trained to, and they watch and learn, just like women.
I hated men who enchanted a woman’s spirit with no intention of loving her. How dare they wake women’s ancient myth-worthy hearts for only their fanciful pleasures! I saw men as sexually selfish, with an armor-like double standard that protected them in an all-boys manly-man club, which believes in We can fuck anything we want, but she can’t! Who were they to tell me who I spread my legs for?
I’m the sole guardian of that sacred portal. I deem who is worthy.
I resented their moral code. Because it stole women’s energy and put it into pretty glass bottles on their collection shelves. Perhaps to be admired again someday in a hauntingly disenchanted way leaving the feminine energy on a tightly controlled string. I’ll play with you when I’m in the mood asshole kind of way. I hated the men who did that to me and my sisters. It felt like an energetic rape.
Them taking what was mine, and instead of nurturing it to grow and bloom on its own, trying to mold and shape and control it for themselves. A violation of my rights as a multifaceted multi-dimensional woman.
I hated the men who never apologized for hurting me. Those who left me all alone in the dark, laughing as they closed the door, screaming from the other side, “I got what I want!” Yet they never got me completely, because they were too scared and I hated them for that.
I wanted them to stand up and be the superpowers they were, the ones I saw deep inside of them. The ones I nurtured with my love and honored with my body. But they were too afraid to be that much of a full manifestation, and they weren’t ready. I hated them for that too, because I could sense that potential within them and they failed in the quest to birth that. I hated them so much I hurt them back.
Wielding the sword of Joan, I tried to slay the demons coming for us, but I failed because I no longer believed in the love, which clouded my vision. It had faded away, past the stage of dying embers. I hated them for not bringing it back to life and saving us.
I hated men for not seeing this pain. For not holding space to enable an expression of those deep emotions rising like ocean waves. They left me at the shore. Waving goodbye as the depths overtook me. I hated men for seeing women as crazy, writing them off as insane because it was easier than listening to her wisdom.
When I realized a part of me had allowed all of this pain and began to take back my power by taking back what belonged to me, it all changed. When the goddess lays down the sword of Joan, and stops being a martyr for the pain, and stops blaming everyone else for her misery, the spell lifts and clarity settles in.
I recovered from my painful vision. Even though this had been my experience with men thus far, I could’ve changed it at any time. I just wasn’t ready. Hating men was easy. When I chose to not be a man-hater, I suddenly became very sensitive to when other women do it. I quickly realized it is a common choice for many. Even men can be man-haters. Just like women can be women-haters.
Being a man-lover now allows all the pleasure in that I was denied before. Flooding the feminine heart and washing her chambers clean. A rebirth of love. Now the men in my life pay attention to what is important. Because I do too.
Honoring the feminine temple means being humble in your approach. Asking permission before entering, and accepting the No without resentment or being bitter. If it is a Yes, bear offerings of kind words, authentic smiles and plan to stay awhile. She requires your full attention. Distractions dilute the power that is possible between a man and a woman who do not hate each other.
I had to learn to bring offerings to his temple.
Since giving up my man-hating ways, my intimacy is deeper. I have no problem saying No or Yes. I am surrounded by male energy which respects that. My experience has changed from hating to loving, and I have learned that within that love is a powerful gateway to places far more fantastic than any power-playing man-hating head-trip. And now I attract exactly what can open that.
Life is good. I am an ex-man-hater who now loves them. In all their beautiful glory.
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Hillary Raimo is an award-winning photographer and artist, founder of Love, Breathe for Earth (a project dedicated to aligning human love, art and meditation), author of Life According to An Unknown, eternal Earth Advocate, and Lover of Life. You could contact her via her website.
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Confessions of an Ex-Man-Hater by Hillary Raimo | Hillary Raimo
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