For as long as I can remember, I put my dad on a pedestal. To me, he embodied everything that I aspired to be: smart, athletic, successful, powerful. My dad, a PhD and captain, seemed to move effortlessly through life with authority and skill. I wanted that strength, that achievement, that respect. And in pursuit of those qualities, I unknowingly built a wall around my feminine side.

Growing up, I saw my mom’s role as less valuable, less impressive. She took care of us three kids, kept us clothed, prepared homemade meals, and somehow found time to sew Halloween costumes and run a ski shop. She wasn’t just running the store; in her own quiet way, she was a source of warmth and connection. She created a sense of home for everyone who came in, offering kindness, seeing people as they were, and making them feel special. Loving people was her ministry. Yet, I judged her, seeing only what I had been taught to devalue: that she was in the background. Where my dad held the obvious titles and power, my mom quietly wielded her own strength in nurturing, loving, and holding space. I didn’t see it for what it was then—a softer but just as powerful kind of strength.

Now, as I sit in this place of awakening and reconciliation, I realize just how much of my femininity I pushed away. I sought guidance and wisdom from men—teachers, authors, coaches—while overlooking the wisdom and power in women, including my own mother. And here is the irony: I am a woman. All my life, I’ve held judgment toward the very essence of what I am.

Recently, I joined a group, Empress Rising, that’s helping me embrace the divine feminine within. At the same time, I’m seeing Kamala Harris use her voice with unapologetic strength, and it’s making me pause and reflect. I’m awakening to something I’d shut out long ago: the power and beauty of the feminine. The divine mother, the creative force, the compassionate nurturer—all these aspects of femininity that I had resisted, and in resisting them, I resisted myself.

I am beginning to see my mother for who she truly is: one of my greatest heroes. She wasn’t the loud, commanding force I thought defined strength. She was a soft, steady river, nourishing and uplifting all who came to her. There are many in this world who turn to her as a mother figure, a role she embraced wholeheartedly and without hesitation. She is a mother to many, a pillar of love, and someone I am so proud to call my own mother.

Today, I feel both gratitude and loss—grateful to see her in a new light, to understand her strength and grace, and saddened by the years I spent holding her in judgment. I am on a journey to forgive myself, to forgive the way I’ve held women, including myself, to unfair standards.

As I step more into this balanced expression of masculinity and femininity, I see the beauty in being a woman. I see the importance of not just nurturing and supporting others but also of being a fierce advocate for truth, a creative force, and a compassionate leader.

Reflection Question:
What aspects of yourself have you overlooked or undervalued in pursuit of others’ definitions of strength?

I am grateful for this journey, for the work I am doing to reclaim my divine mother within, and for the opportunity to let go of the past judgments I held toward femininity. I feel hope and pride in knowing that my feminine side is my strength and that I can love who I am—completely and unapologetically.

To all the women, mothers, nurturers, and fierce leaders, thank you for your quiet strength and powerful love. To my mom, I am so grateful for you and all that you have given. I hope I can live up to even a fraction of the greatness you embody.