Learning to Make Space for My Feminine Side

Written by Jessie Keller, May 30, 2025

A few years ago, I showed a Cuban friend a video of one of my favorite female dancers.

As he watched, he said something that caught me off guard.

“Her movements are masculine.”

My first instinct was to disagree. I loved this dancer. I loved her creativity, confidence, and the way she took up space on the dance floor. But instead of dismissing his comment, I stopped and listened.

That conversation stayed with me for years.

Eventually, I understood what he meant. He wasn’t saying that her dancing was bad or that women must move in one particular way. Her movements were powerful, sharp, and grounded—qualities he associated with masculine energy.

I still love watching her dance. His observation did not take anything away from her creativity. It simply gave me a new way to look at movement—and at myself.

I have realized that teaching the leader’s role often feels easier to me. The movements are direct. I can explain where to step, where to place a hand, and how to guide a partner.

I also love dancing as a follower, but teaching the fluidity and softness of that role feels much more vulnerable.

When I am dancing socially, some of it happens naturally. But when I slow everything down and try to demonstrate grace, flow, softness, or sensuality, I suddenly become very aware of myself.

Where does my hand go?

Was that graceful—or did I just look like I was swatting away a fly?

Why does something that feels natural at full speed feel so uncomfortable when I have to break it down?

The more I explored this, the more I began thinking about masculine and feminine energy—not as rigid rules about how men and women should behave, but as different qualities that can exist within all of us.

We can be strong and soft.

We can lead and receive.

We can take action and remain open.

We can create direction while also responding to what is happening around us.

In partner dancing, I often experience the leader’s role as offering direction and the follower’s role as listening, responding, and adding personal expression. Neither role is more important, and neither one is easy.

Following can look effortless, but good following is incredibly difficult.

Choreography tells you what is coming next. Social dancing does not.

A follower must remain present, listen through physical connection and structure, respond to a movement they did not plan, maintain their balance, stay connected to the music, and somehow make the whole thing look beautiful.

That is not passive.

That requires awareness, self-trust, skill, structure and strength.

And perhaps that is part of what I have been learning outside of dance, too.

For a long time, I absorbed the message that strength meant independence. A strong woman should build a career, support herself, need no one, and never rely too much on anybody else.

My mom was a stay-at-home mother. When I was growing up, I did not fully understand what that meant or how much she gave to our family.

Then I had my son.

Suddenly, I saw her differently.

I began to understand the countless meals, the constant interruptions, the emotional presence, the patience, the repetition, and the thousand small things she did that nobody applauded.

She was doing work that did not come with a title, a promotion, or a paycheck. Much of it probably looked like “nothing” from the outside.

But it was not nothing.

She was creating the environment in which we grew.

As a young woman, especially during high school and college, I received messages that made staying home with children seem less valuable than building a career.

Cooking for your family could be viewed as old-fashioned. Depending financially on someone else could be seen as weakness. Wanting to nurture a home did not always sound like something an ambitious woman was supposed to admit.

Motherhood changed the way I see those choices.

Now, I understand that caring for a child requires tremendous strength. It asks you to be present when you are tired, patient when you are overwhelmed, and responsive when you would really like five uninterrupted minutes to drink a cup of coffee while it is still hot.

I have also learned that children often ask for connection through their behavior.

There was a season when my son seemed increasingly upset and demanding. I was frustrated, and he was frustrated. The more overwhelmed I became, the more he acted out. The more he acted out, the more overwhelmed I became.

We were caught in a cycle.

Eventually, I began taking things off my calendar and giving him more of my undivided attention. Gradually, he seemed more settled and secure.

That experience reminded me that presence can look unproductive while doing something incredibly important.

Being a mother has taught me a great deal about giving. It has also taught me that the more give, the more I receive. The more I am present, holding space and creating routine, the more presents are returned to me.

There are days when my son needs more than I feel capable of giving. I still have to show up. When I do, the benefits are 10 fold.

In fact, being supported allows me to give from a healthier place. Like following in dance, receiving is not the same as doing nothing. It requires self-trust. It requires presents. Sometimes, for those of us who are used to handling everything ourselves, receiving energy from a partner can be harder than giving.

We have t remember that our presents is our gift.

I feel incredibly grateful for my mother and the way she cared for our family. She made sacrifices during a time when staying home was not always respected or celebrated. She gave us her presence, attention, and love, and those gifts helped shape the adults we became.

Now I find myself wanting to create that same sense of safety for my son.

I want to be present with the people I love. I want to create space where they can open like flowers. I want to nurture them without feeling ashamed of that desire or believing it makes me less strong.

I want to give my feminine side more room. I want to honor the part of me that is gentle, receptive, grateful, vulnerable, and deeply caring. I want to give so that giving comes back to me in ways I could never imagine.

And yes, I want to bring more of that softness into my dancing.

I can still do the big, playful, slightly crazy moves that make me happy. I can still be powerful and confident. I simply want to explore what happens when I add more grace, patience, and flow.

To be completely honest, I do not yet know what that will look like.

Maybe that is the point.

This is not about forcing myself into someone else’s definition of femininity. It is about becoming curious about the parts of myself I may have pushed aside because I thought strength had to look a certain way.

I am learning that softness is not weakness.

Following is not less important than leading.

Receiving support does not cancel out independence.

And caring for the people I love is not something I need to apologize for.

Maybe growth is not always about becoming more.

Sometimes it is about making space for the parts of ourselves that have been there all along.