“Masculine Energy, Feminine Energy” Or Maybe We’re Just Washing Our Dishes.

We’ve heard it all: we’re too assertive, too structured, too in control. As if being organized is a threat to our femininity. As if setting boundaries, making decisions, or choosing not to wait around for someone else to take initiative means we’ve wandered too far into testosterone territory.

Honestly, I don’t think I’m in my masculine. I think I’m just tired. Tired of the boxes they keep trying to squeeze us into.

They say we should “lean back.” Let the man lead. And the irony is, I want that. I really do. Most of us do. We want to feel secure enough to step back and trust that someone else can take the reins. There’s a kind of peace in knowing that we don’t have to always be the one making all the decisions, holding all the weight. We want someone who can step up, take charge, and make us feel safe in their leadership. But I’ve leaned back so far, I almost disappeared. I’ve waited. I’ve paused.

It’s not that I don’t want to give up control, it’s just that I need someone who’s actually capable of taking it when the time comes. I’m not asking for perfection, but I am asking for direction. It’s not about relinquishing all control, it’s about trusting that they’ll step in when needed, with a sense of certainty and a clear sense of purpose.

And yet, there’s always someone who says, “Lower your standards.” As if somehow, wanting someone capable of leading me, someone who knows what they’re doing, is asking for too much. They tell you to lower your expectations, to stop waiting for a partner who’ll meet you at your level. They’ll tell you that you’re too demanding, too unrealistic for wanting a man who doesn’t just show up, but shows up with intention and strength. They’ll tell you to take what you can get, to settle, as if contentment can only be found by dimming the lights on your own desires.

A man who can lead doesn’t diminish who I am. He enhances me.

What frustrates me most is how we’ve turned basic, everyday responsibility into something mystical and overly complicated. Like showing up for yourself, making thoughtful choices, or having a structured routine suddenly requires a spiritual explanation. We’ve dressed up common sense in silk robes and called it energy work. We’ve made discipline sound like a rare alignment of the stars, and maturity something you need a webinar to unlock.

But if we look back, the women who came before us didn’t need to brand their strength. Our grandmothers didn’t call it “masculine energy” when they managed households, raised entire families, taught in classrooms, ran small businesses, or held their communities together. They weren’t chasing balance between sacred feminine and divine masculine, they were living. Fully. Gracefully. With grit and tenderness in equal measure.

They didn’t need mantras to validate their worth. They didn’t need reels telling them to romanticize their lives. They had little choice but to be resilient, and they did it without over intellectualizing what came naturally. They were strong when it was required, soft when it mattered, and grounded even when the world around them was unstable. No labels. No language gymnastics. Just presence. Just doing what needed to be done.

So no, I don’t think doing the damn laundry makes me energetically imbalanced. I think it makes me responsible. And if that responsibility looks a little too “masculine” for some people’s comfort, then maybe it’s their definitions that need fixing, not me.