The line between femininity and submissiveness is a blurry one, at best. The idea of receptive empathy, the softer side of things, all reconcile with the things that a submissive exhibits. Compassion, care, tolerance, deference; however negative these social connotations when it comes to the treatment of women throughout history, there is no denying quite how well they fit the mould of the submissive.
Femininity isn’t gender specific, as counter intuitive as that idea might be. Women can be masculine, and men feminine, to varying degrees. It’s just bad luck and millennia of reinforcement that’s meant that we associate one with people with dangly genitals, and one with those of the neat and tidy variety. That and the etymology of the words, of course.
Regardless, it’s the femininity that I want to exaggerate, draw out and emphasise. To push you into a world of ribbons and lace, find you in a getup that’s so unmistakeably feminine that you’ve got no choice but to defer. No one can get bossy in knee highs and a pair of mary janes.
Well, no one can get bossy in knee highs and a pair of mary janes and be taken seriously. So it’s better just to simper and smile, and I’ll just laugh and tell you to get on your knees. Much better that way.
I adore being a whimpering little dove.