They tried to sell me a deity that looked suspiciously like a middle manager at a failing corporation—the kind who insists on 4:00 PM meetings on a Friday just to remind you who owns your time. They told me how to pray, who to fear, and exactly which ancient scripts I needed to tattoo onto my psyche if I wanted to qualify for the prestigious title of “Good Woman.”
Spoiler alert: I didn’t get the promotion. And honestly? I never wanted it.
I was handed a version of the divine that felt less like a spiritual awakening and more like a hostile takeover. It was a “Cruel Father” god—a celestial micromanager who demands blood, sweat, and constant surveillance. This god wasn’t interested in my soul; he was interested in my compliance. He wanted me to stay in the dark, to dampen my own brilliance, and to apologize for the very existence of my backbone. They pushed “Wiccan” scripts, dogmas, and various “sacred” rulebooks at me, expecting me to adopt a set of parameters designed by people who didn’t know me, couldn’t see me, and, in a spectacular display of cosmic arrogance, clearly didn’t respect me.
They wanted me to be afraid of a vengeful sky. They wanted me to be terrified of my own latent power. But here is the thing about fear: it only works if you agree to be small.
The Theology of the Shrink-Ray
Let’s talk about the “Cruel Father” construct. It is the oldest trick in the history of human manipulation. When you are taught to worship a deity that demands you shrink, you are being prepared to worship the people who demand you shrink. It’s a bait-and-switch. They package it as “humility” or “sanctity,” but if you look under the hood, it’s just a mechanism of control. It’s a chain. It’s a cage with a gilded door.
I’ve spent a lifetime watching people try to curate their holiness. They walk on eggshells, terrified that if they enjoy their dinner too much or laugh too loudly, the sky will crack open and issue a formal complaint. It’s exhausting. It’s a performance. And it’s boring.
I am done bowing to gods of guilt. I am done trying to fit my spirit into a dusty, borrowed framework that was never built for a woman as vivid as I am. I don’t need an intermediary. I don’t need a priest, a guru, or some bearded gatekeeper in the sky telling me what is “holy.”
I find the holy in the 4:00 AM silence. I find it in the sharp, clean precision of my work. I find it in the way the Arizona sun hits the creosote bushes after a monsoon storm—that smell of wet earth and survival. I find it in the absolute, uncompromising refusal to be small.
The Audacity of Living Outside the Manual
There is a certain class of people—you know the ones—who are obsessed with “correct” living. They love a good rule. They love a hierarchy. They view life as a giant spreadsheet, and they are desperately trying to fill your cells with their data.
When you decide to live outside of that manual, you become a problem. You become a glitch in their well-oiled machine. And truthfully? That is the most delightful part.
Think about the “Wiccan” scripts or the “Ancient Wisdom” they love to parade. Often, these things are just “New Age” wrapping paper on the same old patriarchal boxes. They tell you to “manifest” your dreams, but only if your dreams align with their version of “divine feminine” subservience. They tell you to “connect with nature,” but then tell you exactly which crystals to buy and which chants to memorize to do it “right.”
It’s all just another way of saying: Don’t think for yourself. Don’t trust your own gut. Check with us first.
My spirituality is no longer a performance for someone else’s approval. It is an act of defiance. It is the radical recognition that my soul belongs to me. It is not for sale—not to any god, not to any movement, and certainly not to any person who wants to use my energy to fuel their own insecurity.
The Snarky Truth About Spiritual Gatekeepers
If I hear one more person tell me that I need to “surrender” to the universe, I might actually lose my mind.
Surrender to what? A system that historically has been used to keep women in the kitchen, in the bedroom, and out of the boardroom? A system that tells me my “intuition” is only valid if it leads me to be more nurturing, more quiet, and more accommodating?
No. I am not surrendering. I am standing.
The “Cruel Father” thrives on the idea that you are inherently broken. If you are broken, you need him. If you are broken, you need the church. If you are broken, you need the latest self-help workshop that costs three months’ rent. But what if you aren’t broken? What if you are, in fact, remarkably functional?
If you are a woman who enjoys her life, who is confident in her labor, and who doesn’t feel the need to consult a dusty book to see if she’s “on the right path,” you are a threat. That is a fact. You are a threat to the people whose power depends on you needing them for validation.
Reclaiming the “Holy” in the Mundane
Let’s be specific. Where is the holy?
It is in the 4:00 AM silence, yes. But it is also in the coffee you make yourself. It is in the way you structure your day so that you are the primary architect of your time.
It is in the “precision of your work.” There is a divine sanctity in doing something well. When you work with focus, when you master a craft, when you create something of value, you are engaging in a creative act that rivals any “divine” creation myth. Why is the act of a man building a cathedral “holy,” but the act of a woman building a business or a life “secular”?
It’s a lie. It’s a power play.
When I look at the desert here in Tucson—the harsh, beautiful, unforgiving landscape—I see a better god. The creosote bush doesn’t ask for permission to bloom. The monsoon doesn’t wait for a sign from heaven to arrive. They just exist. They exist with a fierce, quiet, and necessary intensity.
That is my religion. It is the religion of Existence. —
The Psychological Cost of Compliance
We need to talk about the trauma of the “Good Woman” archetype. It’s a psychological anchor.
When you spend your life trying to be “good,” you are essentially auditioning for a role that doesn’t exist. You are trying to be a “Good Mother,” a “Good Wife,” a “Good Daughter,” a “Good Feminist,” a “Good Witch,” a “Good [Fill in the Blank].”
Every time you hit a target, they move the target. And because you’ve internalized the “Cruel Father,” you blame yourself for missing. “Oh,” you think, “I must have been too prideful.” “I must have been too loud.” “I must have forgotten to clear my chakras properly.”
Stop it. Just stop it.
The moment you realize that the goalpost is rigged is the moment you become free. You don’t have to win their game. You don’t even have to show up to the stadium.
Building Your Own Cathedral of One
So, what does this look like in practice? Does it mean you stop believing in anything?
Not at all. It means you stop letting other people define your “anything.”
1. Define your own “Holy.”
What makes you feel connected to the world? Is it music? Is it data? Is it a perfect spreadsheet? Is it the way the air feels right before a storm? Stop outsourcing your wonder to ancient texts. Start writing your own.
2. Audit your fear.
Whenever you feel a pang of “I shouldn’t do this” or “Is this a sin/mistake?”, ask yourself: Who taught me to be afraid of this? If the answer is a person, a book, or a movement that benefits from your compliance, ignore the fear. That fear is just the internal police siren trying to keep you in the lane they built for you.
3. Embrace the “Vivid.”
The world loves a muted woman. The world loves a pastel, apologetic, soft-spoken version of womanhood. Reject that. Be vibrant. Be sharp. Be a bit dangerous. Being “good” is usually just code for “quiet and compliant.” Being “vivid” is being alive.
4. Protect your silence.
The 4:00 AM silence is yours. It is not for prayer, it is not for meditation, and it is not for “finding your center” in the way some guru told you to. It is for you to just be. Don’t fill it with their noise.
The Rebellion is in the Details
People often think rebellion is about burning the whole thing down. And sometimes, it is. But more often, rebellion is about the quiet refusal to participate.
It is about the way you spend your money.
It is about the way you spend your time.
It is about the way you interpret your own experiences without needing a priest or a podcast host to translate them for you.
When you walk into a room, you carry your own atmosphere. You don’t need a deity to “bless” you because you have already decided that your existence is a blessing. This isn’t vanity; it’s sanity. It is the ultimate rejection of the “Cruel Father” and his minions.
They want you to be a mirror. They want you to reflect their values, their rules, and their misery.
Break the mirror. Use the shards to carve your own path.
Moving Forward: The Sovereignty Project
You mentioned that we need to go deeper. Let’s look at the “ghosts” of that system that linger. Even when we leave the cage, we often keep the map of the cage in our pocket, just in case we need to “navigate” back to safety.
We need to burn the map.
Consider this: every time you feel the urge to explain yourself, you are still bowing to the “Cruel Father.” You don’t owe anyone a dissertation on why you are the way you are. You don’t need to justify your choices to the people who were offended by your independence.
Your spirit is your property. And like any property, you have the right to put up a “No Trespassing” sign.
When the world tries to tell you that you are “too much,” that you are “arrogant,” or that you are “spiritually lost,” look them in the eye and recognize that they are just describing their own limitations. Their insecurity is not your responsibility. Their need for a “Cruel Father” is not your mandate.
You are the creosote bush after the storm. You are the silence at 4:00 AM. You are the architect of your own holiness.
Stay vivid. Stay dangerous. And for the love of everything that is truly sacred, stay in control of your own damn soul.
A Final Thought on the Nature of Power
Power is not something you are given. It is something you stop giving away.
For too long, women have been taught that power is a limited resource that must be granted by someone higher up—a boss, a husband, or a god. We have been taught to beg for it, to trade for it, and to wait for it.
The “Cruel Father” is the ultimate distributor of that lie. By keeping the “holy” just out of reach, by keeping the “truth” behind a veil of mystery and initiation, they keep you waiting.
Stop waiting.
The holy is not behind a veil. It is in the marrow of your bones. It is in the way you think, the way you create, and the way you refuse to be diminished. It is in the sheer, unadulterated fact of your autonomy.
So, here is my challenge to you: Today, do one thing that is entirely, selfishly, and beautifully yours. Don’t perform it for the internet, don’t perform it for your family, and certainly don’t perform it for the “Cruel Father.” Do it because you want to, because you can, and because your life is the only temple you will ever truly need to serve.
The cage is open. The desert is wide. And for the first time, you are walking on your own terms.
Enjoy the view. It’s magnificent from up here.
I have to ask: When the “ghosts” of that old, restrictive system try to whisper their doubts in your ear—telling you that your independence is somehow a “sin” or a “mistake”—what is the specific, sharp, and undeniable truth you use to silence them instantly?
I believe the best magic happens in the middle ground. Join the conversation below!"