I Am Not A Soft Woman: A Tale of Non-Compliance

Apr 25, 2025

Last night I fell asleep on the thought that love was a nutrient of the soul. An ingredient so ironically fundamental to the human experience yet on such short supply. I often dwell on a thought before bed and let my brain chew on it in my sleep. I wake up with a clue in my mouth and then I speak. My clue this morning was…touch as love.

Historically, I never considered myself one of those “My love language is physical touch” type of people. How could I be? My history is filled with touch that steals, takes and demands.

Touch has meant violence in this body of mine. Before I learned the word boundaries I contorted my bones and gave my self away. My world told me that’s what it meant to be a wife and a woman.

“Open your legs and shut your mouth.”

That was the ugly message lurking underneath commands to my femininity to be submissive, nurturing and soft.

Don’t have boundaries…that’s not soft.

Don’t say no…that’s not feminine.

And here’s a direct quote “Live quietly”.

I internalized the belief that my body was meant to be a soft receptacle for a man’s stress. I was meant to be clay in the shape of a woman…compliant, moldable and defenseless.

How then, could I not flinch at the idea of touch?

If you too have experienced sexual violence perhaps your skin aches as you drink in my words. Touch was stolen from you and from me. It now feels safer to exist as armor than it does to be soft. Here is my invitation to myself and my invitation to you.

Soft is a word I’m taking back

Not soft as performative sweetness

Not soft unchallenging defenselessness

Soft as sensuous

Soft as the storm

I am terror and tenderness

Keep your submission

Keep the dance you do

Tighten your bones and call yourself soft

I will be the ocean

I am water

Not pleasing