Notes from Bali, on Women

 

I thought manipulation was an unhealthy masculine energy.

 

Strategic, calculated, moving pieces around a board. It seemed to fit. Masculine energy operates through action and outcome. It shapes circumstances. So manipulation, with all its orchestration, felt like it belonged there.

 

 

And feminine energy, by contrast, is honest. Vulnerable. Open. It asks for what it needs directly, trusting that showing up as itself is enough. Manipulation felt like the opposite of that. So masculine by default, right?

 

But then I reconsidered.

 

 

Because toxic femininity isn’t masculine. It isn’t strategic confidence either.

 

It’s something else entirely.

 

The “shadow” feminine.

 

 

The “shadow” feminine. Shadow, as in the part that doesn’t get to stand in the light. As in the version of her that was told, in a hundred small ways, that her wanting was inconvenient. So she buried it. And buried things don’t die. They just learn to move differently.

 

It’s that version of feminine energy that was wounded into believing its direct desire wasn’t welcome. That it wasn’t enough to simply ask. Directly. Bluntly. Out loud, to the person meant to hear it. Not hinted at, not performed for an audience, not buried in subtext hoping someone would dig.

 

 

 

So instead of asking, it learned to maneuver. Instead of expressing, it implies. Instead of being seen, it orchestrates from the background. That’s not masculine energy wearing a feminine mask. That’s feminine softness that learned to survive by going underground.

 

 

 

Manipulation, in this light, isn’t power. It’s what happens when someone stops believing she’s allowed to want things out loud. Explicitly, without confusion, without shrinking. Fully trusting that when she names what she needs, it will be received.

 

 

 

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Nature, music, life, and spirit find their way into everything I make, whether digital or traditional. If a piece calls to you or you’d like to create something together, reach out at writeme@lheanstorm.com