Hey there, dear soul. 🌟
There’s a gentle ache in the way we speak of masculine and feminine—as if they are distant realms to conquer or roles carved in stone. But what if they are not opposites at all? Imagine them as harmonious notes in a symphony, currents flowing together in the same river. Masculine and feminine are not about gender; they are about energy—the kind that dances through all of us, free from labels and constraints.
I’ve encountered men who felt crushed by the belief that tears made them “less manly,” and women who concealed their tender hearts behind jokes, fearing that warmth might appear weak. The true heartbreak lies not in feeling these energies, but in being taught to lock away parts of ourselves to fit some outdated script. Masculine isn’t about stoicism; it’s about the courage to stand in your truth. Feminine isn’t just nurturing; it’s the daring act of softening when the world expects you to be hard. Both? Total acts of rebellion.
Let me share a story. There was a father I knew, raised on phrases like “boys don’t cry” and “provide, don’t feel.” One day, his daughter handed him a simple, scribbled drawing. His voice cracked as he whispered, “It’s perfect.” In that moment, his “masculine” instinct to protect met his “feminine” wonder. No battle. Just a man, whole and trembling, letting love rewrite his very being. That’s the magic we’re missing: Energy isn’t something you possess—it’s something you flow with.
We’ve confused things, thinking feminine equals passive and masculine equals dominant. But picture a forest after a storm. The mighty oak (masculine?) stands tall, yes—but its strength comes from the soft, nurturing soil (feminine?) that holds its roots. A river (feminine?) carves through rock with relentless force (masculine?). Nature doesn’t choose sides. It blends. So why do we? The people who inspire me most aren’t “balanced”—they’re unapologetically both. They command attention with quiet confidence and break the tension with a joyful laugh. They set firm boundaries and bake cookies at midnight.
Vulnerability is where these energies meet. It’s not “feminine” to admit fear—it’s human. It’s not “masculine” to stand up for your truth—it’s alive. I’ve seen fierce warriors sob in grief and gentle healers roar with fierce passion. The moment we stop deciding which energy is “allowed,” healing begins. A friend once told me he’d never hugged his son because he thought it might make him “soft.” I asked, “What’s softer than strength that bends without breaking?” He cried. Then, he called his son.
This isn’t about trading one label for another. It’s about letting go of labels entirely. The feminine isn’t something to “embrace.” The masculine isn’t something to “master.” They’re like two breaths in the same lung, rhythms in the same heartbeat. A mother working late to support her family? She’s embodying both. A dad braiding his daughter’s hair before school? He’s dancing with both. These energies don’t care about gender—they care about your capacity to feel.
So here’s my invitation, from my heart to yours: Forget “being” masculine or feminine. Just listen to what your soul needs. Maybe it’s the fierce courage to set a boundary. Maybe it’s the tender grace to forgive. Maybe it’s the wild, untamed truth that doesn’t fit any box. Let these energies move through you—not as rules, but as gentle whispers. They’ll show you when to stand tall and when to lean in, when to speak up and when to simply be.
You were never meant to be split apart. Reclaim your wholeness. The world doesn’t need more “real men” or “strong women.” It needs humans—brave enough to be gloriously, beautifully, messily themselves.
With all my heart,
— Lee 🌿 Still dancing in the in-between.
