My relationship to my body has been a rocky one most of my life. From emaciated ballerina in my teens to the “fat 20’s,” as I used to refer to myself, to the circus-like game of inflate, deflate inflate, deflate of my 30’s as my body created two entire human beings changing shape so drastically that the skin on my stomach has since looked like a weathered old balloon.
My body and I have been through a lot. There were times when I loathed my body. Times when I abused it. When I starved it. Cut it. Exhausted it. Ridiculed it. The most dire times, I just downright tried to off it.
Oh, I was a brutal bitch. I believed my body was my biggest liability in life. It wasn’t beautiful enough. It wasn’t flexible enough, thin enough, curvy enough, tan enough, tall enough, soft enough, strong enough, young enough, old enough, talented enough.
Every frustration in my life I blamed on my body. If it weren’t for whatever new body issue I dreamt up that day, I’d be more successful, more loved, more rich and on and on.
It took me twenty five painful years of all the aforementioned abuses before I became conscious of a deep seated truth. It wasn’t my body that was my greatest downfall. It wasn’t that I was a woman that sucked. I wasn’t the problem at all.
My revelation came from doing a film where I played a stripper in a gentlemen’s club, Dancing at the Blue Iguana. It wasn’t until I danced in my scenes of a particular nature, curving and swerving and touching and caressing my body, truly allowing my body to move to her fullest capacity in all directions, that I realized that my body was perfect.
It was not me, but the world in which I was living and still live, this masculine world with its masculine rules and sensibilities, was the problem. The revelation: I was a feminine creature trying to thrive in a world built for all things masculine.
A masculine world that valued my body as just a thing to find pleasure from. A masculine world that demanded crisp control over how I could safely live in my body. A masculine world that shut down the full expression of my body. Dictated where and when I could express my full body movements.
Shamed me from the natural shapes and forms and sensuality that my body released and yearned for. A feminine creature in a masculine world is living an almost schizophrenic existence. How far we as a global feminine community have come from a safe sisterhood where full expression of our bodies is natural.
When I first found my way back into my body through what would soon become the S Factor feminine movement, I discovered I had innate feminine attributes that had, for my entire life to this point, been dismissed by the masculine world.
These attributes I refer to as the 5 feminine geniuses:
Curve of Movement