Real Woman

This past Tuesday we had an event called The 6th Hour. I think I wrote about the last one but basically it is just a big open mic night for students to perform, well, anything they want. At our last open mic night my friend Luke performed a spoken word poem called 'Manly Man' by the poet Bradley Hathaway. Now seeing as I like poetry, I thought it would be cool to perform a female response or side to this. So, I actually found a poem by a girl named Kristi online entitled 'Womanly Woman', which was a direct response to Hathaway's poem. However, not all of it was quality material so I did a bit of writing, a little adjusting, and came up with my version called: Real Woman.



Here are the lyrics:
I don't want my curly hair (yes! these are natural curls), big brown eyes, slightly a-symmetrical top lip, Vans, booty don't shake too much when I walk confuse anyone. I am a real woman.

I am always dressed to kill, while out shopping, at work, or preparing a meal. I must have at least two pairs of shoes for each outfit. Hair is done, makeup on, nails, a hit.

I am always courteous in public. I smile and greet, confidence is my trick. Never will you see me fart, burp, or spit. The words won't even form on my lips. I am a real woman.

My house is perfectly kept, on top of the chores, have never overslept. I always look good, smell good, taste good for my man. He comes home each day to his biggest fan.

My heart is touched by any love story. When my man neglects me, I start to worry. I try hard to control my monthly emotion, but if you don't back down, I'll start a commotion.

I don't fight or fuss if I don't get my way, my word's enough, it holds much sway. I live out the qualities of Proverbs 31, to make my mark for when my life here is done. I am a real woman. Or am I?

Somedays I don't want to paint the fake face on, sometimes sweats and tees are all I don.
Puppies and bunnies are not that cute, the title mommy I will never recruit.
I'd like a man to journey through life by my side not a step ahead. I believe that bambi was made for us to be fed.
I intend to age gracefully and naturally allowing my gray fro be for all to see the beauty and pain God has trusted to me.

Society tells me all day long that I have defined womanhood completely wrong. But you ask any honest man and he will agree. Ask any honest woman and she too will see that I am a real woman.

Here is Bradley Hathaway's original:

I don’t want my long hair, pretty green eyes, with ( no! I do not have on mascara. ) eyelashes, skinny figure, undersized t-shirt, hip shake too much when I walk confuse anybody. I am a manly man.

Within this sissy frame, obviously rib laden chest lies a heart that beats to the drum of a native American ritual dancing wildness. It pumps an ever cascading supply of untamedness that a herd of wild mustangs have yet to grasp. If danger lurks about, I will seek it out. If adventure abounds, there I will be found. If a damsel be in distress, I will show her who is best. I am a manly man.

Because I don’t flush, and I leave the lid up.

I drive a 1988 Ford Pick-up truck. Girls don’t break up with me, I break up with them first. ( Except the last time, it didn’t really work out like that… ) I don’t shave the hair on my face ( Because I still can’t grow facial hair yet… ) But when I can, I won’t, because beards are tough.

I fart, burp, and spit when I want, not caring who’s nearby. Disrespect my momma, and I will punch you in the eye. I am a manly man.

Or am I? I tell my guy friends that I love ‘em. And sometimes, sometimes I even hug ‘em. Not because I’m gay, but because I love ‘em. And when I watched Bambi, I cried. And when my Mema gets mad, I still run and hide.

Like David, I wanna be a man after God’s own heart. And I’m not there yet, but I’m past the start. And when people talk, I try to listen. A spirit of compassion, that’s my vision. Surely I am a manly man. I want to be loved and have love and give love.

And not just that romantic kind either. Although I am looking for that beauty.
Not helpless, but wants to be rescued. The damsel in distress, man, woman, myth, true. I will fight for her, climb the highest tower for her, love her, share with her, delight in her, be her warrior, her protector.

She will be my crown and I will be hers. My masculinity will be passed down and affirmed to my sons. And each of my daughters will know they are lovely, and deserving of authentic romance.

Society tells me all day long that I’ve defined manhood completely wrong. But you ask any honest man, and he will agree. You ask any honest woman, and she too will see, that I am a manly man.