The Wild Woman

We are the last of our kind — let’s make sure the line doesn’t end with us

Not so long ago, we were an endangered species. Our numbers were rapidly dwindling. There was no way of knowing whether or not our species would survive.

Even today, sightings of our kind might be rare. We are hidden behind the more polished of our sisters.

We might have wild hair. Maybe we’re not wearing makeup. Maybe our feet are tucked into boots instead of high heels.

Who are we? We are the wild women.

The wild woman…

…never worries about being perceived as beautiful. She’s always beautiful because she’s so engaged in the present moment and so in touch with joy.

…isn’t a slave to beauty standards and will wear tank tops even if it’s been a while since her armpits have seen a razor.

…lives by the light of her own intuition, no matter how many naysayers stand in her path.

…would never negotiate her worth with bosses or boyfriends.

…isn’t worried about losing a lover over his standards for feminine beauty and sexuality.

…knows where she is in her menstrual cycle on any given day. (She knows the current phase of the moon, as well.)

…doesn’t wash her hair every day.

…might have some dirt under her fingers or plant matter in her hair. (It happens.)

…isn’t disgusted by menstrual blood and respects her period for the miracle that it is.

…knows the Latin names of common herbs and can identify medicinal plants in the wild.

…would rather sit on a log in the woods than watch shows on Netflix.

…knows all the favorite hangouts of the local coyotes, hawks, owls, and badgers.

…would rather sleep for an extra half hour than use that time to curl her hair and put on makeup.

…prefers to smell like plants or food rather than commercial perfumes.

…loves to make her own beauty products because she doesn’t need expensive formulas created by corporations that don’t actually care about women’s beauty, health, or empowerment.

…allows herself to express her sexuality in any way she wants.

…knows and celebrates all the old holy days.

…hasn’t dyed her hair in years.

…is sometimes very loud and accused of being “too passionate.”

…has lots of opinions.

…grows feisty when she feels she’s not being heard or respected.

…isn’t afraid to be single.

…defends her fellow wild women with ferocious loyalty.

…loves her friends, family, and partner(s) fiercely.

…dreams about dancing naked under the full moon. Or really, dancing naked anywhere.

…can take care of herself, check her car’s oil and tire pressure, operate power tools and build cool shit with them, clean out the sink drains, bring home the bacon, and give herself plenty of orgasms.

…doesn’t care about other people’s opinions of how she dresses.

…isn’t afraid to get dirty.

Don’t get complacent. We wild women are still in danger. There are still people — and even institutions (like the beauty industry) — that want to see us tamed.

We’re still in danger of losing our freedom. Our claws. Our dignity. Our sovereignty. And what we lose, our daughters might not be able to reclaim.

Don’t let yourself get captured, wild women. Don’t let yourselves be tamed.

As long as we are running free, we’ll inspire others to do the same.

Author’s note: I want to be clear that I know a lot of wild women who wear makeup, dye their hair, wear high heels, etc. Some of this is just poking fun at myself for always being the one in my group of friends who was called “earthy,” or “natural,” while everyone else was called “pretty,” or “sexy.” There are lots of ways to express one’s wildness.

© Yael Wolfe 2019

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