I’ve been ogled at, cat-called, and groped in ways that left me feeling small, ugly, icky, angry, uncool, too sensitive. I think it’s enough to say, #MeToo.
When we begin to strip away the Dysfunctional Masculine that we inherited and absorbed from the culture at large, we often uncover our Little Girl cowering beneath all that armor.
I couldn’t love you without judgment the way every little girl, daughter, beautiful woman, child needs to be loved, because I was so busy judging and not loving myself.
To disappear didn’t necessarily mean to die or be ridden of life; it meant to live within its pockets, where no one could see me or disturb me. This was a place I could be airy, like a winged thing, hovering over all and seeing all.