To begin, this isn't a blog about sex or swearing. It's about the generational gap in how women have learned-or failed-to claim the power of their own voices. Women today are verbally empowered and emotionally evolved in ways that once felt taboo.
So, to my fellow conservative, Midwestern, Bible study girls-listen up. It's time to RISE UP.
It's been years since I attended a women's gathering. My daughter-in-law, Trisha, invited me to a Galentine's Gathering—a love-infused Italian dinner with 35 other women. I've been starving for this kind of community for so long. I've tried to find my place before, only to fail. I have occupied myself enough to not have the energy for more, at least that is the lie I tell myself..
But the truth? I was afraid.
So, I'm owning it. Apologizing to my old self and moving forward. I want more. I want to learn how to enjoy me again-though I have no idea what that even looks like. And no, pickleball is not my cure.
Walking into that dinner, I felt out of place. I didn't ask Trisha how she felt about being there because I didn't want to influence her experience. But I was nervous. We don't get out much and I want it to be special, if for no one else, but for us.
Women's groups have never been my safe space. I've seen the judgment, the gossip, the backstabbing. So, I built walls, and those walls have been standing for decades. These women didn't know that. They had no idea how much I was hiding behind a carefully constructed facade.
We were told to dress in what made us feel beautiful. I played it safe-black sweatpants and a T-shirt, my go-to invisibility cloak. I haven't felt beautiful in 35 years— longer than most of these women have been alive. A sobering thought.
Meanwhile, I watched them-bold, bright, unafraid. Faux fur jackets, platform boots, sparkles, colors I wouldn't dare wear. And the words they used for each other-queen, goddess, beauty, woman, sister. The energy in the room was electric.
Where was I?
And then, I realized: I was exactly where I needed to be.
These women didn't care about my past, my walls, or my anxiety. They only cared that I showed up. That I was present. That I was here to support-or be supported by-one of the most powerful forces on this planet: women who stand together.
And unless I completely fumbled this opportunity, maybe-just maybe— I could crack that door open enough to take a real look at what l'd been missing.
The truth? I've missed a lot.
Being a woman today isn't just about being female. It's about being unapologetic. About expressing yourself through your clothes, your art, your voice, your choices. It’s about support without conditions. It's about women gathering around a bonfire, speaking their truth, holding space for one another-crying, hugging, cheering, even howling. It is about the sharing of life in the most positive of ways that with one deep breath you feel internally satisfied with where you are and who you are with.
The speaker at the gathering looked around the fire as we prepared to sip our cacao, eyes steady, voice unwavering.
“Take the power you have inside you," she said, "and ground it—all the way down to your pussy."
The air shifted.
I stiffened. Did she really just say that?
I glanced at Trisha. She was unfazed, completely unbothered. Meanwhile, I nearly choked on my breath. I scanned the faces around me, expecting shock, wide eyes, discomfort. But instead-cheers. Laughter. Women nodding, hands over their hearts, fully embracing the moment.
None of the older women reacted. We sat there, quiet, absorbing. Holding our breath. Because no one had ever told us that before.
No one had ever told me that before.
For 60 years, I have been trained to forget I even have one. To disconnect from it, to hush it, to believe my strength was in my silence. I was raised to be polite, to sit with my legs crossed, to be respectable and reserved.
But why?
We live in a world where men tell each other to "grow some balls" as if that's where courage lives. And yet, biologically, balls are the weakest, most fragile part of the body. Meanwhile, women are built to withstand unimaginable pain, to create life, to endure, to carry.
And we are the ones called weak?
No. That narrative ends here.
Because being a woman isn't about shrinking. It's about owning. Owning our emotions, our fire, our intuition, our instincts. Owning the depth of what we carry, the way we lift and lead, the way we hold space for others.
Owning the fact that for centuries, we have been told to soften ourselves to make the world more comfortable— when in reality, we are the force that holds it together.
The power of the pussy is real. And I am finally ready to claim mine.
Trisha captured this moment so beautifully in her TikTok - a night of women choosing to rise up, together, in strength, resilience, and womanhood. Watch below.
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