I am becoming, becoming me, becoming who I always knew I was but felt it unsafe to be.

As I embrace my journey towards menopause as a positive, empowering transformation into the wise, older woman with a twinkle in her eye, the one I always looked up to, I feel the fear, the fear passed on through my gender, but this time I walk through it.

Women are carrying generations of fear-based messages reminding them that they have been and will again be cut down for being she. The witchcraft trials in Europe killed thousands and thousands of innocent women, female babies have been and still are killed at birth in China, India, and other Muslim countries merely for being feminine, and of course, the list goes on.

The term femicide that means the killing of women for being female was first coined in 1801 in England to signify the killing of a woman. It was then used by the American author, Carol Orlock, in the 1970s to try and highlight the crimes that women endured just because of their gender.

We must realize that a lot of homicide is in fact femicide. We must recognize the sexual politics of murder. From the burning of witches in the past to the more recent widespread custom of female infanticide in many societies, to the killing of women for “honor,” we realize that femicide has been going on a long time. But since it involves mere females, there was no name for it until Carol Orlock invented the word ‘femicide.’ (1)

As women, we are carrying an internalized, historical (and actual) fear that reminds us that by our gender alone we could be in danger of death.

The feminine energy in our world is rising, rising from the earth and rising both in women and men — it is a matter of survival. I am committed to bringing this to the forefront. Women and men need to find that pulsation that is feminine. It is not easy to allow it to manifest, to be felt. We have not been educated to give it space, recognition, or a voice.

The masculine both in men and women will continue to run out of control without this wisdom. The feminine wisdom is earth-based, it vibrates with the hum of the earth, it is cyclic, receptive and at home in the dark.

What I need to express is crying to come out, be heard, vocalized, and expressed. My belly is aching with it, filled up with it, screaming from within.

Since young womanhood, I have been confronted with a phenomenon that has deeply hit me, a phenomenon that up until recently I would turn against myself and say, “There must be something wrong with who I am,” and I would try to be otherwise, someone else, someone acceptable.

I have always felt passionately about women’s issues, be it breastfeeding, natural birth, equality, women’s safety, women’s empowerment, etc. When these subjects or related come up in conversation, I feel a surge of energy rising within me, it isn’t coming from me but through me. It feels like a power surge, it is passionate, authentic, and strong.

It is not anger but feels like a muted voice that has found a source of expression, that is finally free and safe to articulate — not just the words but the energy that has been so long held down. I feel its authenticity, its fluidity coming up from the earth, from the feminine, and joining in the dance of life. I am empowered, strong, connected, happy, and me.

Then suddenly the guns come out, the resistance has arrived, I stand there naked, unveiled, guilty, hands up, face against the wall, this is not acceptable. The safety, freedom, newfound place of expression is suddenly no more. I am too much, my words my energy, my passion, my voice are not welcome here.

Once more I made a mistake, I am in danger and the worst is that those holding the guns are those I hold dear. “Your voice is too strong, too loud, shut up,” they say, and then turn the whole thing around and tell me, “I am being like a man,” there is no way out, I am surrounded, I feel suddenly very alone.

In the past, this would hit me in the belly with such violence, I would be emptied of life force, forget I had the right to exist, I would belong nowhere, no place was home, I would need to change. I would tell myself that it was not acceptable to bring this energy to the world, I need to be calmer, softer, gentler, I am bad, undesirable, unlovable, improper, offensive, and worst of all, guilty. Guilty for being me.

But now, something has changed, and it is the powerful transition of menopause that is giving me the strength to finally become me, I am birthing myself. I no longer need to make deals with others to be accepted, I accept myself. I no longer need to listen to what others say about myself, I listen to myself. I no longer need to believe others, I believe in myself.

And so, when the guns come out and aim at the Rising Feminine as they did this morning, I hold my space, I hold myself, I feel the deep fear in the belly and I thank those holding the guns for pushing me further into becoming. Becoming what I am, becoming who I am.

I am still frightened as the fear is real and belongs to us all, but the fear has become a powerful ally pushing me to hold it, walk through it and go beyond it. I step through the fear, I feel the Rising Feminine. I embrace her, and she embraces me. I am whole and I am strong, and I am safe because I belong.

Article by~Cathy Skipper is a writer, healer, and life coach. She lives in New Mexico and works internationally. 

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