“They won’t tell you fairy tales of how girls can be dangerous and still win. They will only tell you stories where girls are sweet and kind and reject all sin. I guess to them it’s a terrifying thought, a red riding hood who knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in.” -Nikita Gill

A few days ago a friend posted the above poem as a caption to her photography. When I read it I couldn’t decide if I wanted to embark on some grand adventure or weep.

There’s something about this poem that has resonated very deeply with me. Made me question what it means the be the one that invites the wild in- to make your own fairy tale.

To be brave and daring, and a little unfettered.

For me, it created this image of a little red riding hood who was opinionated, and unapologetic for being the loudest, messiest, most authentic version of herself. A little red riding hood with curious eyes and messy hair. A fairy tale female that was an outspoken, fearless thinker.

Fairy tales always seem to have the same themes of beauty, courage and bravery, but the picture painted above is one that challenges most folklore. It rebels against the Grimm Brother’s carefully crafted character- the damsel in distress. It challenges the idea that the girls made for fairy tales are mythically beautiful, quiet and never seem to say the wrong thing- trait’s I’ve never been able to relate to.

I was 21 the first time I really fell in love. It was the first real relationship I had, and it was good. It was loving and vulnerable and challenged ourselves to be authentic and sincere.

It also took me about 21 years to take real ownership for who I was as a person. It took 21 years and finally being confident in myself to attract someone that saw the same traits in me- someone that was worth taking a chance in love with. And just as hard as it was to learn my own beauty, it was just as easy to let myself settle into having someone. Settle into someone else taking ownership of my beauty and believing it to be true because they said so. It was so easy to forget my worthiness existed independently of someone telling me so every day.

I think like most people do in serious romantic relationships, I lost part of myself. Don’t get me wrong, I think in a healthy relationship there are pieces of ourselves that we have to tame or let die in order to make room for new pieces of yourself in conjunction with another person, but I think where so many people (women especially) go wrong, is they let too much of their essence go. They lose sight of what it was that made them an individual in the first place, and they wake up one morning when it’s all said and done and realize they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be solo.

I’ve spent half a year trying to remembering my independence, my essence. Processing what qualities and traits I admire in others and believe to be true in myself. Half a year remembering what it means to be confident, to be beautiful.

I was reading an article the other day where Payton Sartain from Hustle and Halcyon describes confidence as “knowing your brain, your heart and your soul. It doesn’t come from your shell… I possess traits that mean so much more than beauty, and those things make me feel powerful.”

I love her definition of confidence, focusing on more than external factors, merging all aspects of a person’s character, but why do strength and beauty have to be mutually exclusive? I think that’s one of the things about Nikita’s little red riding hood that captured my imagination. That she could be both lovely and daring.

So I asked some of my closest friends “when do you feel the most beautiful?”

“After I finish a hard run in the rain”

“When I’m laughing with my friends”

“Traveling alone through the airport”

“In the morning before I put on any makeup, while I drink my coffee”

And then my same friend who posted the poem wrote me this: “When I feel the most authentically alive, surrounded by people I love or doing things I feel passionate about, that makes me feel my truest version of myself… therefore the most beautiful.”

These answers are powerful.

They are raw, unapologetic emotions that reveal the most authentic version of the person behind them. They show the willingness to let go of who they think they should be in order to be who they truly are.

No one tells you how daring it is to be the most honest and truest version of yourself. How courageous it is to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, to be seen.

I think there are times in our lives where we have the chance to take risks. To make questionable choices and explore the parameters of our own character, and if I’m being completely honest the last few months I’ve felt a little unhinged. Rebellious. Resisting my previous thoughts and needs about love and relationships and embracing experiences a little more spontaneous and rough around the edges.

I’ve made some poor choices with my heart and emotions, but I don’t regret them. I wish somethings would have turned out differently but I won’t apologize. I won’t feel bad for the way I’ve shown up to my own idea of romance these past few months. I’ve been a little reckless, and some might not understand, but it’s what I’ve needed.

I invited the wild in.