Awakening the Wild Woman Within
I come from a long line of wild women. Women who took no shit because they couldn’t afford to. Strong woman who went hard for their families and always bet on themselves. My lineage taught me to watch out for the “ol’ country gals”. They’ll take all your money playing spades on Friday, drink whiskey on Saturday, go to church on Sunday, and cuss you clear out on Monday. Despite my mother’s best efforts, because of my heritage, I was born knowing how to cuss real good. For a while, the wild woman spirit lay relatively dormant inside me, only coming out on special occasions. Yet as I approach my twenties, I can feel her waking up. I’m eager to become acquainted with the Wild Woman within.
When I was a young girl, I spent half of nearly every summer riding around in my grandmama’s little burgundy car. It was my grandmama, Elizabeth, who gave me my first taste of a wild woman’s spirit. According to my mother, having grandchildren changed her, but because I was her namesake, she made it her mission to ensure that I carry on the legacy of having the spirit of a wild woman. Wherever she went, I went and she didn’t let my mother’s protests get in her way. I have fond memories of her sneakily putting me on a little lipstick before we went out. “What ya’ mama gonna do? Put me in time-out? I’m everybody mama in this house”, she’d say as she meticulously dabbed the same shade of M.A.C lipstick she was wearing that day on my lips. We’d briskly walk out of the house giggling while my mother was preoccupied with something else. On those drives, she told me all the wonderful wild woman things I should do. Some days she talked about the importance of keeping God in your life, other days consisted of her telling me to never let anyone try me or my family. My favorite lessons were about putting on makeup and styling clothes. I marveled at how she and her tight jeans turned heads no matter where we went. The Williams sisters were the OG hot girls, and my grandmama never lets anyone forget it. My mother nurtured me. She baked cookies, took me to dance lessons, and planned family outings to the science museum. For Christmas, she bought me encyclopedias and educational book sets. In my free time, I recited poetry and played the piano. It was my grandmother though who made sure that I would be as tough, confident, and headstrong as she is. I admit her methodology was unorthodox, but it worked and for that I owe her everything. As time went on and I’d stand in front of her and all her fabulousness with glasses, braces, and middle school acne, she’d still hold me by the shoulders beaming as she said, “Elizabeth you are gorgeous honey, you look just like me!” (I did not look like her at all in those days and we both knew it.)
As I embark on the next chapter of my life, all the little things Elizabeth told me finally make sense. I now understand that the “take no shit” attitude I inherited from my ancestors wasn’t to make me cold, but it was to protect and guide me. Independence has rooted itself in me and is now about to have its first real blossoms. Traits of daringness, confidence, and ambition shine through. I go hard in everything I do because the women before me did the same. I don’t come from a long line of debutants, social club members, or political pioneers. I come from bootleggers, sharecroppers, domestic workers, and real hustlers. “Ol’ country gals” who had hardly any resources, but a lot of people depending on them. I can confidently say that my heritage has served me well. Most importantly though, I come from praying women who never wavered in their faith. Despite all odds, they kept pushing and made it happen. I am here today because of their strength. I owe it to them to keep the Wild Woman spirit alive and that is exactly what I intend to do. Take care of yourselves and nurture the wild woman within.
Love,
Claire Elizabeth
