To all my Spicy Spirit Sisters,
There’s no judgment for a skirt that doesn’t measure 3/4s an inch below the knee. Modesty is not a saintly prerequisite validating the pure heart you wear on your sleeve. Your worth does not stand on taut measurements or firm flesh, nor is it tied to the history of your bed frame. You are such a fucking lady, and it has nothing to do with manners or posture, or proper pearls. Agreeable, dainty, passive, demure. Those are not words of guidance as you shift your hips and permeate the air with your presence. You love and honor others, and treat them with kindness and respect. Your prayers need not be patriarchal in pattern. Your spirit is genuine, and your connection to source is direct. You are a free spirit who knows well enough that you don’t need permission to delight in any of your delicious desires nor do you need to seek forgiveness for sins that are not.
You are nasty. You are sacred. You are fierce. You are life. You are a raw authentic goddess instigating discomfort wherever you roam; insecurities ever fragile underfoot. As you shake up the world you create cracks and sow seeds of love that heal across lifetimes. You hold on your tongue venom and the vow that truths will no longer be swallowed or silenced. A woman’s place is where ever the fuck she feels like taking up space, and you own every room you enter. You twerk in the kitchen, as you bake your pies, and the power of your rhythm pulsates through generations of feminine shame. You are loving and unapologetic as you gesture to your ovarian essence, and throw that energy to the sky so that it may rain down on all of our sisters who have not yet learned to love themselves without question. You are so nurturing and generous with the candied wisdom of your path, but never push it as the only rainbow flavor that will lead to the pot of gold. You follow your heart. You follow the moon. You follow the laws of the Universe and throw middle fingers to man and the laws of his ego. I know the brand of beauty that radiates from your smile. It can only be captured when the depths of hell kiss your soul but the bitterness cannot hold to your lips. The fire you have walked through has polished you to a gem, and you charge spirits as you share your story.
I have so much respect for your strength and how gracefully you wear the weight of your crown. I admire how you own your sexuality and throw it about the room. You refuse to yield and I am in awe of how you stand in your power. You are a fiery, feisty, fearless Queen, and I am so grateful for your beacon of beautiful light. You are utterly amazing and I fucking love how you spice your way through life!