Crone with a Machete ~ Women, Can We Step Back and See the Attack?
Narayan *Women, Can We Step Back and See the Attack?
Okay, women. I don’t know if you’re seeing this.
I don’t care where you stand on the current trial. I don’t care where you stand on abortion, reproductive rights, right to life, or any of the language surrounding it. I don’t care whether you believe an adult who wants to transition is right, wrong, good, bad, liberating, or destructive.
I have my opinions on all of these things—and plenty of others. Oh I left out big harm ya !
But our individual opinions are not the point.
What everybody seems to be missing is the larger attack on women.
Let me be clear: I am not some raging feminist. I happened to grow up in that little pocket of history where I was young enough to watch the women’s movement unfold during the 1970s and old enough to enter the world as a young woman by 1980.
I grew up on a street where nearly every mother stayed home. I think there may have been one working mother on the entire block.
Even as a child, I watched that life of the women who stayed home and thought, That is not what I want.
Not because I dislike children. I love children. I enjoy their company. I love learning from them, listening to them, and watching the way they see the world before we have programmed the magic out of them.
It wasn’t the children I didn’t want.
It was the institution surrounding motherhood. The other mothers. The judgment. The criticism. The surveillance. The endless measuring of one woman against another.
And now, all these years later, women are still being baited into the same battle.
The girl boss against the stay-at-home mother.
The woman with children against the woman without them.
The conservative woman against the liberal woman.
The biological woman against the transgender woman, transgender's need their own sports alliance, restrooms and such. For the record I am very clear on what a woman is.
One woman’s choices against another woman’s choices.
Pick your category. Pick your weapon. Pick your side.
And yes, some of what we are seeing may be a psyop.
But let’s understand something about a psyop: even when you recognize the manipulation, it still reveals something about the consciousness of the people participating in it.
It shows us how quickly humanity chooses a side.
How quickly we abandon the full picture.
How quickly we turn another human being into an enemy.
And how easily women can still be provoked into attacking one another.
Whether the situation is organic, manipulated, exaggerated, or some combination of all three, it is showing us something.
The question is: are we willing to see it?
When male bodies are admitted into environments created specifically for female bodies, can we at least be willing to ask whether women themselves are being erased?
You do not have to hate anyone to ask that question.
You do not have to deny another person’s humanity to recognize the distinct realities of a woman’s body.
You do not have to join a political party, adopt an ideology, or scream at strangers on the internet.
You simply have to be willing to look.
Now pull the lens back even farther.
Look at what is happening planetarily. Look at the alignments. Look at the movement into what some call the photon belt. Look at the transition into the Age of Aquarius and the movement toward a different kind of feminine leadership.
But it is not the feminine leadership we have been shown.
It is not simply women behaving like men while wearing better shoes.
It is not domination with a prettier face.
It is not the girl boss, the tyrannical mother, the wounded princess, or the perpetually enraged teenager being handed a larger microphone.
Yet look at what is being displayed before us.
Women as irrational.
Women as unhinged.
Women as vindictive.
Women as emotionally unstable.
Women as incapable of controlling themselves.
Women who will destroy a man, destroy another woman, destroy a family, pull the trigger, burn down the village, and call it justice.
These are accusations that have been placed upon women for centuries—and now women are being baited into performing them publicly.
Hook, line, and sinker.
But here is the piece we cannot afford to miss:
This isn’t simply about getting us to choose the wrong women.
It is about discrediting women so completely that we willingly turn the controls back over to the patriarchy.
It is about making women appear so reckless, unstable, emotional, manipulative, and dangerous that society concludes, Well, apparently women cannot be trusted to lead.
And then the masculine steps forward again—not the sacred masculine, but the old patriarchal masculine—and says, See? This is why you need us to take control.
This is how the feminine voice is silenced.
Not necessarily by dragging women out of the room, but by destroying the credibility of women so thoroughly that no one wants to hear what they have to say.
Even worse, women themselves begin to distrust the feminine.
We begin to believe that feminine leadership is inherently chaotic, irrational, indulgent, and incapable of making difficult decisions.
So we reach back toward the very systems we were attempting to evolve beyond.
We hand the authority back.
We ask the patriarchy to restore order.
And the feminine voice disappears—not because it had nothing to offer, but because its most wounded expression was placed center stage and presented as the whole of womanhood.
Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that this is an agenda.
Let’s say the intention is to make women appear so unstable, irrational, and emotionally volatile that no one will trust us in positions of authority.
You can’t put a woman in charge. What if she’s on her period and presses the nuclear button?
You know—the same tired shit women have heard for generations, repackaged and placed back into circulation.
Women are too emotional to lead.
Women are too erratic to govern.
Women cannot be trusted with real power.
So hand the controls back to the patriarchy. Put the masculine back in charge. Silence the feminine voice before she has the opportunity to become fully conscious of her own authority.
Fine.
If that is the agenda, then it is up to us as women to flip the fucking table.
This is where coyote medicine enters.
Coyote takes the situation that was meant to deceive, diminish, or destroy and turns it inside out. Coyote reveals the trick hidden inside the trick. What appears to be working against us becomes the very thing that awakens us.
That is the medicine available here.
We take the spectacle that was intended to discredit women and use it to expose what still needs to be healed within the feminine.
We look at the rage.
We look at the manipulation.
We look at the need for attention, vindication, punishment, and public destruction.
We look at the wounded teenager and the inconsolable toddler.
We look directly at the shadow—not to shame women, condemn women, or hand our authority back to men, but to retrieve the sacred feminine from underneath all of it.
We turn the table.
We take what was designed to move us backward and transform it into forward momentum.
That is coyote medicine.
The trap becomes the doorway.
The weapon becomes the mirror.
The attempted destruction of feminine credibility becomes the initiation through which the sacred woman remembers herself.
But only if we are willing to see what is being shown.
Only if we stop defending every expression of the feminine simply because it comes through a woman.
Only if we are courageous enough to admit that some of what we are witnessing is the wounded feminine—and that the wounded feminine cannot lead us into the new era.
This is how we shift the shadow into the sacred.
This is how women take back the narrative without becoming trapped inside another battle.
This is how we refuse to hand the controls back.
We do not defend the dysfunction.
We transform it.
There is no movement into greater light without the darkness being revealed. We cannot move into a more advanced level of consciousness without first confronting what has been hidden, denied, suppressed, and excused.
So look at the dark, ladies.
Look at it.
Men, you look at it too.
It is being laid out directly in front of us.
The question is not whether we can identify the villain. The question is whether we can step back from the battle long enough to recognize what the battle is doing to us.
Can you stop choosing sides for five minutes?
Can you stop screaming at the person who disagrees with you?
Can you stop allowing an algorithm, a headline, a courtroom, or a political party to tell you where to direct your rage?
Can you see the attack on women?
And can you also see the shadow of the feminine?
Because that shadow is being shown to us too.
Real shadow work does not mean pointing at somebody else’s darkness and announcing that you found it. It begins when we admit that some expression of that darkness also lives within us.
That is the first step: admitting it is there.
Can you watch these women and recognize any part of yourself?
Have you ever become so triggered that you were no longer listening?
Have you ever needed someone else to be punished before you believed you could be free?
Have you ever wanted justice so badly that your desire for justice became another chain connecting you to the person who hurt you?
What part of you is being activated?
I’m going to cut to the fucking chase and tell you.
It is the angry teenager.
And she isn’t merely angry. She is mad.
There is a difference between anger and madness.
Anger can be clear. Anger can show us where a boundary has been violated. Anger can rise cleanly through the body, deliver its message, and move.
Madness cannot move.
Madness circles.
Madness obsesses.
Madness demands an audience, a confession, an apology, a punishment, and a public execution before it will agree to loosen its grip.
What we are watching—whether organically produced, manipulated, exaggerated, or all three—is the madness of the wounded teenager.
And our society, as a whole, is not much more evolved than a mad teenager.
The mad teenager is inconsolable.
You cannot rationalize with her.
You cannot reframe the situation for her.
You cannot massage, balm, flatter, or coax her into calming down.
And some of what we are watching is even younger than that. It is the toddler throwing herself onto the floor because reality has refused to obey her.
Both the toddler and the wounded teenager want the same thing:
They want justice.
They want someone to pay.
I understand this because I have recently had to confront it in myself. I wanted justice. I wanted to see justice done. I believed I was entitled to it—and perhaps I was.
But even when our position is righteous, the need for justice can remain hooked into the heart.
Eventually, we have to unhook it.
Not because the other person deserves to be let off the hook, but because we deserve to be released from it.
Unhooking ourselves from the need for justice does not mean we condone what happened. It does not mean we become silent, passive, or unwilling to act.
It means we stop requiring a particular outcome before we allow ourselves to be free.
That is the work.
And this is where the attack upon women becomes particularly insidious.
At the exact moment women are being called toward a more mature form of leadership, we are being publicly represented by the most reactive, wounded, adolescent expressions of the feminine.
This does an enormous disservice to the credibility of women.
And no, I am not saying that motherhood is somehow lesser. I believe being a mother is the hardest work on the planet. I believe it may be the hardest work ever asked of a woman’s heart—and I say that as someone who consciously chose not to do it.
But women are not here only to be mothers.
We are here to have a choice.
One woman may be destined to raise children. Another may be destined to become a CEO. Another may become the greatest basketball player in the world. Another may be an ice skater, an athlete, an artist, a writer, a filmmaker, a dancer, a scientist, a beauty boss, or a real-estate mogul.
She may be an herbalist, an alchemist, a farmer, or a healer.
She may be many of these things over the course of her lifetime.
And it isn’t only about choosing what she does.
She has the right to choose how she does it.
She may want a nine-to-five job with a steady paycheck. She may want to be self-employed. She may want to build a business while raising a family, work part-time, live close to the land, practice her craft from a kitchen table, or create an entirely different way of working that does not fit neatly into any existing category.
I understand this because I have been self-employed since I was twenty.
One of the reasons I entered the beauty business was because it gave me the freedom to choose how I wanted to work.
I did not want a nine-to-five life.
I wanted to be self-governing.
I wanted to determine the rhythm of my own days, make my own decisions, follow my own creativity, and allow my work to evolve as I evolved.
That is also part of feminine sovereignty.
A woman has the freedom to create the kind of life she wants to live.
Create is the word.
The feminine is the creative force.
She does not exist merely to squeeze herself into structures built by somebody else. She has the capacity to imagine a life, bring it into form, and continue reshaping it as she grows.
And when she creates through the sacred space of her heart, she is not creating only for herself.
She is creating for the micro and the macro.
She is creating a life that serves the woman standing in front of her while also affecting the greater field around her.
Her choices move through her family, her work, her community, the land, and the generations that come after her.
This is not selfishness.
This is the sacred feminine in motion.
A woman may become all of those things—or none of them. The point is that she gets to discover the shape of her own life and then participate in its creation.
But what we are being shown now is a false choice: either return women to a narrowly prescribed role or hand power to the most wounded, reactive version of the feminine and call that liberation.
Neither one is feminine sovereignty.
The feminine era cannot be led by the wounded teenager.
But it cannot be led by the cold, disconnected, hypermasculine woman either.
It must be led by the sacred woman.
And before we can be led by her, we have to remember who she is.
The sacred woman is fierce—and she is kind.
She is love—and she is discernment.
She is receptive, but she is not passive.
She is compassionate, but she is not gullible.
She is vulnerable, but she is not weak.
She can nurture, and she can say no.
She can hold you—and she can cut you loose.
She is not sloppy, mushy, chronically indecisive, or covertly manipulative. Those are not expressions of the sacred feminine. They are expressions of the wounded feminine pretending to be powerless while attempting to control everything around her.
The sacred woman does not need to manipulate.
She knows.
She sees.
She chooses.
Her mind is as sharp as a sword, and her heart is as vast as the ocean.
Those two must come together for true feminine leadership.
The sharp mind without the vast heart becomes cold, brutal, calculating, and tyrannical.
The vast heart without the sharp mind becomes porous, sentimental, easily deceived, and incapable of discernment.
The sacred woman embodies both.
She is the sword and the ocean.
She is discernment and love.
She holds the clear boundary and the open heart.
She does not abandon her intelligence to prove that she is loving, and she does not close her heart to prove that she is strong.
She is both.
She is the woman who has retrieved her wounded child.
The woman who has faced the fury of her adolescent self.
The woman who can feel anger without allowing it to possess her.
The woman who can hold a boundary without needing to annihilate whoever crossed it.
The woman who can recognize darkness without becoming it.
The woman who can enter the sacred space of her own heart and see beyond the bait, beyond the sides, beyond the performance, and beyond her own need to be right.
She is not without emotion.
She is able to feel emotion fully without handing it the controls.
She is not without anger.
She has learned how to turn anger into clarity, boundaries, creation, and forward movement.
She is not without wounds.
She has entered those wounds, listened to them, retrieved the pieces of herself trapped within them, and turned the wounds into wisdom.
That is the feminine they are afraid of.
Not the hysterical woman.
Not the compliant woman.
Not the girl boss.
Not the obedient wife.
Not the woman screaming into a camera while an algorithm feeds upon her rage.
The sovereign woman.
The sacred woman.
The woman whose mind is clear, whose heart is open, and whose discernment cannot be purchased, manipulated, or shamed out of her.
The woman who can see.
The woman who cannot be baited into surrendering her authority.
The woman who refuses to be divided from herself—and therefore cannot be so easily divided from other women.
The darkness is being laid upon the table because it must be seen.
So look at it.
Look at what is being done to women.
Look at what women are doing to one another.
Look at how the spectacle is being used to convince us that women cannot be trusted with authority.
Then invoke coyote medicine and turn the whole thing over.
Take what was intended to humiliate women and use it to reveal what needs to be healed.
Take what was intended to silence the feminine and use it to awaken the sacred woman.
Take what was intended to push us backward and turn it into forward momentum.
The trap becomes the doorway.
The weapon becomes the mirror.
The shadow becomes the initiation.
Then look for the wounded girl within you who still believes she cannot be free until somebody else is punished.
Take her into your heart.
Listen to her.
Love her.
Retrieve her.
But do not hand her the keys to the kingdom.
She is not ready to lead us into the new era.
The sacred woman is.
Her mind is as sharp as a sword.
Her heart is as vast as the ocean.
And we had better remember her before the controls are quietly handed back to those who never wanted the feminine voice heard in the first place.
