Why The Rise of The Divine Masculine May Actually Be What We’re After
Growing up was about tiptoeing around the uncontrolled aggression of men as to not provoke their hands. Most moments required dimming down a sense of aliveness as to not call attention to oneself which could provoke their desires. Some moments were about running from anger because anger was out of control, and anger hurt, and the patriarch is an angry god who hurt. Under these paradigms, the matriarchs who exemplified these rules of life to us were women who’ve stuffed their own anger not because they didn’t have access to it, but because they didn’t trust what they’d do if they let themselves actually feel it. They’re fears of all things associated with not being good enough to stand out as worthy to the patriarchal system. This keeps them invisible as women, so they’ve rejected their own visibility, stayed hidden and viewed visible feminine women as provocative, risky, and to be caged for the crime of being attention seeking.
Under these paradigms, well-intended women dim the lights of others because they’ve bought into an idea that they had to dim their own just to survive in a world that told us our bodies are ornaments and our minds, the property of men. If we wanted to keep either, we must stay silent. The only way to skirt out unscathed, was to stay invisible, rejecting all parts of ourselves to stay that way, which fueled the patriarchy (collectively speaking) and minimized the matriarch.
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When Being Invisible Backfired
All of this acquiescing for the sake of safety from the man didn’t actually work. Women are silently taught that a woman is to bear the secret sins of the patriarch as to not defame his image. It’s a hush-hush thing that you only know, when you know.
She must be the jailhouse of his sin, and the keeper of the keys to it if she wants to be loved, and if he has chosen her to be it. At a time when women were supposed to stay invisible and silent as to not wake the sleeping dragon, I’d gotten radically uncomfortable in the quiet anger that enveloped the atrocities I’d been staring in the face of by the time I reached my adolescence. I put up a big fuck you to the idea that a worthy man would run such a disordered system under his patriarchy. I’d choose better when I grew up, I was sure of it. I’d teach my children better. I promised myself. I hear so much about the rise of the feminine as a collective as of late and I can’t help but wonder, what if it’s the other way around?
Value of the Masculine
What if it’s that as individual females, we’re not rising up against the atrocities we’ve met as women and young girls, or to gain retribution for our ancestors before us in some feminine phoenix uprising, but we’re actually stepping into our own masculine in a strength that doesn’t need to rise at all to know it’s power, but stands firm right where it is? Both masculine and feminine, patriarch and matriarch are gorgeous; sensual, sexual, powerful, blessed creators.
As women, we’ve been taught by women who bought into faulty belief systems to mind the patriarchy not because they were right but to avoid their wrath. We’ve been taught not to trust ourselves with our feminine, let alone, our masculine power. The patriarchy, as it’s wobbled to sustain its shifty image of power, has been held up by one thing only: the buy-in of every matriarch before us that went invisible just to stay safe in a “mans” world. The generational ideals of a patriarchal system that’s been passed down to us hasn’t only affected us and our daughters, it’s stolen aspects of our sons.
I also speak for the lost boys inside of masculine men that aren’t allowed to touch their own vulnerability for fear of a fallen image of strength. I speak for the boys who’ve been raised too softly by women who fear masculinity, who aren’t in touch with their own masculine because they’ve been taught to tiptoe around it and make it invisible for fear they can’t be trusted with themselves because their mothers taught them not to trust their own gender. The patriarchy as it stands isn’t an expressive description of the divine masculine in each of us, and in truth, I don’t want to see anything fall without something else to catch it, already in place.
Both masculine and Feminine Within
I don’t think this is a men versus women, or an us versus them thing the way a lot of people do, but I will not uphold old patriarchal paradigms the way my foremothers did; as if masculinity is some external force not be reckoned with.
The masculine in me, female friends, acknowledges the masculine in you. Let us speak for our silenced and be visible for our possibilities as women, not the pleasures of men. I don’t see a rise of the feminine as a collective the way most people do. I see us as matriarchs in individual pursuit, rising to meet our masculinity so we can teach the tools of visibility, of voice, of power, of truth from a place of vulnerability, of beauty and ownership of our sensual female bodies to our sons and daughters.
Balance isn’t contingent upon them, but upon us.
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