Who’s that girl?

The door opens. Confident steps make a sound of a person approaching. However, this does not sound like a regular person. Their walk has the sound of boldness. Their presence has a hint of assertiveness and it sure commands respect. It is clear that a different — formidable and steadfast — person has entered the room. Eager eyes turn towards this being. It’s a girl, she turns out to be. A very small girl. Not in terms of height, but stature and yet…Yet she walks with such purpose and gumption. Not the disrespectful kind. The ‘I know who I am, and I know why I am here’ kind. The ready-to-take-on-the-world kind. Her presence is striking in all sense of the word. Her physical beauty only adds to the fact that no one could ever doubt her competence in anything. Her presence exudes power. She is a powerhouse. A lioness. To some, she may even evoke a sense of insecurity. She lifts her head and stretches out a breathtaking smile on her already gorgeous face. She takes centre stage and begins to speak with gallantry that inspires courage to anyone who would dare listen to her. Curious noises murmur ‘who’s that girl?’, they wonder. That girl is me. I am that girl.

If you were to ask the people around me to describe me, you would get words such as ‘confident’, ‘intimidating’, ‘assertive’, and ‘strong’ as a response. For some weird reason I can never fully understand, my mere existence commands respect and is synonymous with leader of the pack. I promise I am not making this up. One of my clinical teachers said that I possess such natural leadership ability, it is clear that I will be a boss wherever I go. If I had a dollar for every time I heard such narratives, I would probably not need a job. I will not lie: there are elements of truth to these statements. I am very assertive. I say what I mean and often mean what I say. I am domineering, courageous and possess qualities that are often described as ‘masculine’. I am incapable of subscribing to the soft femininity rhetoric. I am also a problem-solver, and I rarely freeze under pressure. If anything, challenges excite me even though I know that they frighten my counterparts. It also does not help my case that I am audaciously opinionated and I seldom back down from a confrontation. That — I know about myself. Nevertheless, the fact that I never get described as nurturing or caring strikes an insecurity that I never knew I had.

Hearing statements such as ‘I was afraid of you when we first met’ may sound like a confidence booster, but to a girl who simply wanted to be part of the inner circle, it is isolating. I associate being intimidating with being repulsive. When you are afraid of someone, it means that they are not safe and must never be approached. That kind of assumption actually breaks my heart because you have not even given yourself the opportunity to assess the validity of that assumption and you deny me the chance to show you that I am just a human being who has the universal desire of being seen, known and loved. In fact, if you dare come closer to this lioness you will soon find out that she is simply a harmless cat. The sad part about this narrative is that it has painfully affected me relationally. The brave ones who do take the risk of coming into my circle admit that they wish they had ignored the fear and approached me sooner. I grieve when I hear this because it means that my personality robs me of certain relationships. As such, I gave this narrative more power than it deserved, and it birthed an insecurity of belonging.

Because I was insecure about standing out too much, I compromised on who God made me to be and I quenched my authority and leadership. There would be times when I would shy away from taking charge, lest I be accused of being tyrannical or aggressive. Such is the conclusion about females because if I were a boy and acted decisively, I would be applauded for being a brave leader. However, because my ovaries clearly did not produce the preferred flavour of oestrogen that would make me palatable, I got condemned for having sense at the right time. I then took this condemnation as gospel because if many people are giving a similar testimony about me then it must be true. There must be something wrong with me. Something repulsive. Something unsavoury. No sooner after I internalised this fallacy did the enemy come to set it ablaze and further stifle my authority in who God so intentionally and meticulously made me to be. Therefore, I hid in the faux sanctuary of being liked and accepted. However, in my hiding, I became despondent because deep down, I knew that I am rebelling against God’s grand design of me being a force to be reckoned with. Instead, I became a fraud to get along with. My living beneath my greatness was not a noble act at all. It was cowardice, and I despise cowards.

So, I had to face the real issue: Self-hatred. I thought I hated myself and the person God allowed me to be. Turns out, I do not hate myself. I simply bought into a lie that something is innately wrong with me, and I allowed the insecurities of others to be the soundtrack of my thoughts. But I do not hate me. I hate that being my true self will sift out my social circle until it is a dot, and I have to make peace with the fact that I am an acquired taste. Nonetheless, there is nothing wrong with me. At all. When I function at my highest domineering self, things move in the right direction, and I feel like I make God smile when I embrace who He made me to be. Does it come with unpopular decisions? Yes. Yes it does. However, that is the by-product of being the trustee of such great dominion and possessing a treasure in earthenware. I do not have to be liked. I am not an Instagram reel. I do have to be faithful and steward all the authority that God has given me with care. I am a leader who has great insight and visionary acumen that cannot be taught but was clearly divinely gifted to me. I possess great fortitude, and I am able to traverse through tumultuous seasons with great strength and resilience. And…I also bleed when I am cut. I become sad when insulted or rejected. My heart breaks when people leave my life. I mourn endings with floods of tears. I laugh until I weep. I am hilarious. I am not either/or. I am and/also. I have to hold the tension of being all of that. Soft and domineering. Fragile and courageous. Kind and confrontational. Sweet and decisive. No one else has to hold the tension for me. No one has to live this life for me, but me. I am also not responsible for people wishing that I could dim my light so that theirs could shine brighter. Marriane Williamson once said ‘As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence actually liberates others.’ Therefore, I know that when I move like the boss babe that I am, I inspire others to do the same. My highflyer self provokes the highflyer in you and is that not the reason God made us for? To carry each other and ensure that we do not live beneath our assignments? So, that has liberated me from shrinking myself and it has added a few extra hints of audacity in my steps. Who’s that girl, they ask. That powerhouse who is a trailblazing bootstrapper is me. I am that girl!