The best warriors are those brave enough to feel it all.
The best warriors are flawed and human and vulnerable as hell. The best warriors know pain, have tasted tears, and kissed darkness a thousand times. The best warriors have fallen to the pits of despair, but will never stay down.
The best warriors—are goddesses.
The ones who have been broken, but dance boldly in the flames of all the sh*t that didn’t work out.
The ones who burst up like a lotus flower—rising valiantly and more beautiful than ever—from the muddiest mud in spite of it all.
The ones who make art from the pain.
The ones who speak out even when we’re shaking.
For we are not just women, we are divinity in the female form.
We are fire. We are progress. We are the death of the old system. We are the breathless vibrance of Spring, the impossible way everything comes back to life.
We are important.
And our voices are meant to be heard.
We are the return to the earth, to magic, to all that is feminine and nurturing and wise.
Don’t think this means we aren’t fierce as hell…
It is exactly our softness that makes us so fierce, so feeling, so brave, so intuitive, so bold and soaked in truth.
We forgive when forgiveness seems impossible.
We choose love, when marinating in hate seems so much easier.
We choose freedom, when the obstacles are so big and crushing that freedom doesn’t even seem possible.
We rise from from pain, from abuse, from trauma, from the depths of sorrow.
We rise from the shattered pieces of a life that never suited us.
We rise from pasts that are darker than midnight; we rise from nightmares and the flames of hell.
We shine so brightly, radiant now—because like a moonflower, we were forced to open to light in the darkness.
And we did.
We became the light.
We stand proud and tall and powerful now, unfurling one plush, fiery petal at a time.
We still shake sometimes, and that’s beautiful. But even the fear doesn’t stop us anymore.
We charge forward, words of potent truth leaving our trembling lips.
We soar higher, confident in all that we need to embody and create.
We feel deeper, knowing that we were never, ever meant to play small.
For we are here to serve.
To help. To heal. To be a beacon of dedicated light and set the world on fire.
But all of that beauty has to come from the thing we always circle back to—
To love ourselves.
Not just to say it. But to dive in, and do it. To love our darkness. The wide open, snarling mouth of our pain. To love our curvaceous thighs, our complexity, our sadness, and the ever-evolving poetry of who we are.
Above all else—
To be a goddess
Is to be gentle with ourselves.
To soften those tenacious thorns that lived for, so long, on the inside.
To breathe each breath knowing unquestionably, our worthiness.
Don’t give up when it’s dark, dear sister. And I know you never will.
You’re stronger than they ever knew you were.
Don’t ever stop feeling everything.
Don’t ever stop peeling away the bullsh*t of who the world told you to be, getting closer and closer to the pulsing, juicy core of who you really are.
Hold fast to your truth.
The potent jewel of soul that swirls inside you.
Let all else fall away.
To become a goddess?
It’s to do the scariest thing in the world—
To be our selves.
And wake up each morning knowing that it is enough.
It was always enough.
It burns, hot and wild, forever.