What is a real woman? How do you tell? Does she move like an Amazon, staring down at all the fake women that hang their heads, knowing they do not meet her height or the thinness of her waist? Or does she possess hips so thick that when she moves, the jiggle makes every fake woman around her quiver in the putrid stench of their faux womanhood? Do real women wear glasses? Or do fake women have poor eye sight? Real women must have a vagina right? Or are we not the sum of our genitals?
Would you know a real woman from a fake woman? Could you tell if a real woman shaved her vulva by looking at her on the street? Or do real women let their bush grow freely? Do they play with the designs? Is her inner labia suppose to be super small? Is she suppose to be a virgin? How could you tell this about your boss? Your sister? Your Aunt, you neighbor, your friend – are these real women?
Do real women have sleek blonde, brown, red, locks that reach all the way down to her ass? Do only fake women shave their hair off? Do only fake women crop their hair and dye it blue, pink, blonde, yellow, orange, purple and so on? Is our womanhood based in the roots of hairs all over our body? Every hair that sprouts on tit or chin, underarm or leg, do real women shave and pluck it off? Or is it suppose to be there? What would a real woman do?
Is a real woman, the woman that has one sexual partner? Or do real women rebel against these notions and won’t stay with a partner for more than two nights? Do real women date only men? Can a real woman be asexual? Would you know, if she was fucking another woman? Would that make her a fake woman too? What color should a real woman be? Black? White? Brown? Yellow? Which ones are fake?
So what is it? What is a real woman? All of these women are real women. It is a shame that we have forgotten that women are not to be defined or categorized into systematic boxes forged from a catastrophically bleeding system that leaves out so many women. We are emotionally and physically changing. No two women are the same. We are separate by our difference. Our scars, invisible or not, make up who we are. Women are not made one way.
A real woman is a woman. We are all colors. We are all shapes and sizes. We come from all backgrounds and histories. We are the women that work at night clubs or Hooters or 9 to 5 office jobs. We have worked jobs from the age of ten to support our siblings. We have never worked a job in our life. We are hated. We are loved. We are envied. We are house wives with one, two, three, six children. We are women who choose sex over relationships. We are straight. We are lesbian. We are asexual. We are pansexual. We are queer. We are intersex. We are bisexual. We are trans. We are cis. We have long hair. We have short hair. We have giant breasts. We have hand-sized breasts. We are poets. We are mathematicians. We are artists. We are mechanics. We are mothers, daughters, sisters, cousins. We belong to no one. We are independent and dependant. We are strong. We are perfectly flawed. We are beautiful the way we are. We are not made for labels.
We are all plenty REAL enough for anyone that is concerned with our Womanhood and there isn’t a person on this planet that has the right to tell us otherwise.