I haven’t donned a swimsuit in public since I was 13. The following summer, I experienced a growth spurt, shooting up five inches in just four months and jumping from a size zero to a size six. Suddenly, I felt like my body was out of sync with my self-image. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that my hips had developed in a way that resembled the golden arches of a fast-food chain.
I assumed my body was misshapen and opted for baggy clothing to hide what I saw as flaws. Growing up as the only girl among four brothers, discussions about womanhood were nonexistent. Eventually, someone mentioned my “birthing hips” as a positive trait, implying that a woman’s worth was tied to her ability to bear children.
My mother often protested against churches that offered daycare services, believing they encouraged women to seek careers outside the home. It was ingrained in me that I would eventually marry and have children to care for at home. Honestly, I hardly entertained thoughts of career ambitions or traveling, as those pursuits were deemed selfish, and I felt pity for women who chose them.
Over the years, I came to understand that being a woman is not defined by a singular act or milestone. Now at 28, I’ve never experienced pregnancy, yet I confidently embrace my identity as a woman. If anyone inquires about my children, I’ll proudly recount my adventures across 17 countries, traveling solo with just a backpack. I don’t feel the need for a partner to validate my womanhood through procreation. My family, however, might not share that view. My sister-in-law frequently sends me articles about the risks of having children later in life, as if that should somehow make me feel regretful for not having children yet. On my 25th birthday, she even shared a statistic about the dwindling number of viable eggs in my ovaries, likening them to burnt bits of quinoa stuck at the bottom of a pan.
It’s not that I dislike kids; in fact, I’m the “Best Aunt Ever” and do hope to become a mother one day—just not right now. I’ve struck a deal with my boyfriend that for every year past 32 that I don’t have a human baby, I’ll be entitled to a baby animal. A kitten would be lovely, and baby goats are irresistibly cute, so I believe I have plenty of time.
When I eventually do have kids, especially if I have a daughter, I won’t pass on the narrow definition of femininity I once received. Being a woman is extraordinary—whether you’re pregnant, raising kids, still trying, or have chosen a different path. No single experience elevates one woman above another on a hierarchy of achievement.
Watching my nieces, full of spunk and intelligence, reminds me that we’re born with a sense of our potential, but this awareness is often stifled by societal expectations. I wouldn’t trade my journey for anything, but if I could revisit my 13-year-old self, I’d share insights about the true essence of womanhood, borrowing some of the wisdom I now impart to my nieces and, hopefully one day, my daughters.
For those exploring the journey of motherhood, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination from Healthline. Also, if you’re considering self-insemination, learn more about the home insemination kit that can help you along the way. And for those interested in intracervical insemination, this article provides useful information.
In summary, the experience of being a woman transcends traditional definitions and societal expectations. It encompasses a wide array of experiences and choices, affirming that every woman’s journey is unique and valuable.