When did I become a Woman? It’s not that today was the first time I saw these curves staring back at me, naked in the mirror. But today was the first time I loved them.   …Even the belt of softness around my hips. …Even the hole above my belly button where a piercing used to adorn. …Even the dimples on my thighs.   And I asked…   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t the first time I bled. Or had sex. Or made love. But, the first time I lucidly dreamt of my own child suckling at my breast.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I was raped. Or harassed. Or heartbroken. Or hurt. But, when I was willing to admit I had been victimized.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I fell in love with a man or a woman. But, when I had the gall to own my fluid sexuality.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I put on a dress. Or a bra. Or had a manicure. But, when I felt beautifully human.   When did I become a Woman? It wasn’t when I learned about feminism in school. Or history. Or was rallied by my friends. But, when I realized on my own as I sat reading current events just how much the movement meant to me.   When did I become a Woman? When I realized I was graced by power not weakness. When I chose to be a Woman.