My female individuality is from a heart that wants to protect, care for, and, for lack of a better description, birth. If I had to compare it to masculinity in my own eyes, I would say that my own masculinity is tender protection, while my femininity is protective tenderness.

The artistic, physical manifestation of my femininity is not pink, but it is lacey. It is not meek, but it is still. It is fierce, but it is not violent, especially against oneself. It is the hair falling to the nape of the neck, pearls dangling in the crevice between the clavicles; it is reading glasses on a woman’s mature face and the veins that peak from the hand of a woman who has worked hard to earn all that she has and yet shares it all with anyone in need.

To me, feminine beauty is peaceful, but not inactive. It is being alone and falling in love with oneself, while giving in vulnerability of spirit to another in such a way that allows a lady to share love freely, fully, mercifully, and most importantly, unconditionally. It is nurturing in the most raw and pure sense. “Beauty nourishes. It is a kind of food our souls crave.

A woman's breast is among the loveliest of all God's works, and it is with her breast that she nourishes a baby- a stunning picture of the way in which Beauty itself nourishes us. In fact, a woman's body is one of the most beautiful of all God's creations” (Eldredge 38).