How Divine Nature Saved My Life:
Divine Nature was always my least favorite value. Most of the requirements involved scripture-reading. She is more precious than rubies and thank you for comparing women to inanimate objects while reinforcing the idea that women are possessions. No.
But then I found out that I’m apparently going through early menopause, at the age of 22.
And while I’d always believed that being a woman wasn’t tied to one’s reproductive capabilities or reproductive organs, that thought had never been challenged. And I started to worry about whether or not I could call myself a woman when I was menopausal. Post-menopausal. If I had to get my uterus or ovaries removed, or all of the above. If I had to be on artificial hormones the rest of my life.
Of course. Of course I can. Of course anyone can. Of course people with or without or in-between these places can call themselves women if that is who they feel they are.
Of course, is the answer. But I worried nonetheless. And it was overhearing the words “divine nature” that made the worry stop. Divine nature.
I don’t believe in divine nature. But I believe in identity. And my identity gets to be “woman,” as long as I feel the proverbial shoe fits.