We write this word on boxed up china and glassware. If something is valuable, we do whatever we can to prevent it from breaking, don’t we? To even consider it breaking makes our little hearts hurt, doesn’t it? Like my vintage lady head vases. I will wrap them three layers deep in bubble wrap while my child’s pottery gets one page off the sports edition. We heavily pad these treasures with insulation to prevent it from shifting or jostling.

Truth: as white women, we do this to ourselves and we do this to each other.

We have turned our “tribe” into a Lord of the Flies island of fan-clubs where we enjoy our white supremacy like a circle-jerk, and we feel no shame in eating our own when we feel threatened (or if we’re just hungry for attention).

We use our wolf pack as a shield to protect our horrendous behavior from reproach and then hide out in our clubhouse when we are called to the carpet. White women, you know we do this.

We have made ourselves insulated and untouchable. You think POC and the LGBTQ community is who we aim our discrimination at? Ha. We don’t need race or sexuality to define our targets – our target is any living thing that gets in our privileged right-of-way.

We are so fearful to speak out of turn, that we judge those who do speak freely and then disappear when brave women need our support. We walk on eggshells around others, while we criticize those who do not cater and then rally around whoever cries first. Some of us have learned the art of manipulation through a Precious Moments figurine.

Privileged white women: our feelings are paramount, aren’t they. Our position is imperial, isn’t it. And we have our white, hierarchical patriarchy to back us up, no matter fucking what. You know those boys, the ones we serve, the ones we see as having power and prestige; the ones who faithfully defend our horrendous behaviors and remain complicit to those we intimidate. Our husbands and our sons. We love our boys club and the boys club loves us.

White women. We are fragile monsters.

If you cannot agree with me on this, then you are completely checked out of what is going on in this world, what is going on in your town, and what is going on with the people around you. Hey sleepyhead, it’s time to wake up.

White women: it is time to step down and it’s time to shut up. Your days of misleading are over.

Besides a few exceptions like Brene Brown, and Glennon and Abby Wambach, I have personally given up on seeking white mentors. Over my entire life, the only thing I have ever  – ever- learned from white women in leadership is the extent of damage they are capable of creating, the depths of deception they are willing to live with, and the heights of arrogance they have perched themselves upon in order to remain out of reach. Out of reach in order to avoid challenges; out of reach from the discomfort of revealing poor character. And all these years of trying to stay out of reach, has made us white women completely out of touch with reality.

Done. I’m done listening to, hearing from, and looking at white women who *think* they have a message of hope, but all they really have is a fan club with a sticker.

In my house, my family reads daily words of wisdom from women like Malala, Maya Angelou, and Oprah – women who unapologetically live their truth, who have impacted the world out of pure humility, women whose desire to nurture humanity overrides any desire to make a name for themselves.

If you are a white woman, your days of leading me and mine are over. Thank God.

Yes, thank God.

In fact, I’m pretty sure He has everything to do with this – at just the right time, and in the most important of days, He is elevating and highlighting the fierce women this country needs to lead humanity towards stronger unity and empowerment for ALL people.

Thank God.

This post is inspired by Danielle Slaughter’s article, “The Most Dangerous Person in American is the White Woman”.









When Belief Speaks

We hold our beliefs so dear, so close to our heart. We cradle them, tenderly, like a newborn babe. And we defend them as fiercely as a mama bear, when we sense they are being threatened.

There are so many issues to advocate for: guns, abortion, education, or politics. You see, we have these rights and we must defend them. But to what extent? What happens when a right or a belief becomes an obstacle to unity, love and true freedom? Continue reading When Belief Speaks


I am compelled to sound the alarm.

Serving God is not equivalent to serving The Church. Do not confuse the two. There can be only ONE who occupies the throne of your heart.

When your husband is a Chiropractor, everything can be boiled down to proper alignment. Everything has its rightful place in your life, but it is your responsibility to align them properly.

Under the Influence

When I was 5 years old my mother bought me a Wonder Woman Underoos set. I would wear my tank top and matching undies around the house. I even slipped on some tights under it, found a mask, and called it a Halloween costume. Ever since I was five, I have held a fascination and curiosity for her.

My grandmother gave me a small red rocking chair when I was seven. I will never forget the day when I turned on the television one afternoon and found a station that aired the original Wonder Woman show. I pulled up my red rocking chair, as close to the TV as possible, and watched with amazement as Lynda Carter twirled into her superhero costume and fought crime. I would watch her every day for as long as the station aired it.

When I turned twenty-one, my interest in her emerged once again and I began collecting and reading old Wonder Woman comic books. She was so bold, courageous and glamorous! But what captivated me the most about her, is how she would talk to the criminals after she bound them. She would ask them questions and then state her most famous phrase:

“Seems to me you could use your powers for good, somehow!”

What I loved about those words, was how even after this crook had committed crimes, and been found guilty, and was awaiting punishment by the law, she was calling out their potential for good. She was the one who still saw greatness in that individual. In all her fierce power and beauty, her voice would resound with gentleness and compassion. She made me swoon.

I was twenty-five when life as a single mother was kicking my ass. I decided I would get a Wonder Woman tattoo to remind me that I can do hard shit, and also that I had permission to look good while I did it. There have been many times over the years where I have stood looking in the mirror at myself, in tears, staring at my arm where she resides. I remember who I am, what is of value to me, and I muster up the strength to fight for it. And then, I wipe my running mascara and I carry on.

I do have to say, that today I am over all of the tacky novelties. I do not purchase any more  Wonder Woman socks, underwear, mugs, necklaces or comic books. I do have a few special items that I keep tucked away, but these days – she is far more in me, than on me – even as her image sits engraved on my skin. .When you truly become certain of who you are, what you believe, and how you desire to live out who you are in this world, all the stickers, logos and merchandise really don’t matter anymore.

Let It Burn

Do you know what triggers you? Not just an, “Oh I’m frustrated about this or that”. More. Bigger. Feelings that incite your blood to boil; intolerance; an internal outrage. (Aka: the inner mama bear.)

If you start taking note of scenarios that scream “violation!” within your heart, and if you let them burn for a bit, you will discover that which you are instinctively passionate about. So I’ve been at it. I made a list of specific occasions and I let it burn until I began to see a thread.

What I discovered is that I hold a high regard for people. It explains why, when I witness leaders treating people carelessly, I ache.

For example, I was part of a staged production where we were asked to share extremely vulnerable life stories. Then, we were asked to kneel during each “show”. One woman was eight months pregnant. She explained that she could not kneel for that amount of time, and asked if she could have a chair. The young male leader responded, saying, “the most impactful expression of the event is the pregnant woman humbly kneeling“. They convinced her it would be fine. She agreed. My heart burned.

I wonder why she did not insist on a chair. Or why her husband did not insist; or why I did not insist! If I could go back I would have said something in the moment, and if anyone would have asked for feedback, I would have shared. But that’s the problem with poor leadership: no one is interested in inquiring or learning about your experience. They consume what was given of others, exhale with contentment, “good job!”, and sit back in delight of the work they have done. 

I believe leadership can, sometimes, be messy. And I believe grace reigns. But to remain messy, without any active intention or desire to improve – is called sloppy. And it is sloppy leadership that infuriates me.

Poor leadership sends messages of value and respect back and forth among those who lead, yet messages of carelessness and inconsideration towards those they lead.

(BTW: great consideration is dominant characteristic of feminine energy – which explains the broken and sloppy government of patriarchal religion.)

Today, I am quicker to spot it. I take notice when the flame in my heart arises. And I let it burn.

If I can be a part of helping establish a more thoughtful and considerate culture within an organization – I will. If my efforts are welcomed towards creating a more thriving environment for all people – I will abide. My presence is my yes and my amen. I no longer offer it without first thinking critically.

But, in honor of who I am – if my extended hand or inquiring voice are not received with caring or willing hearts – I gracefully waltz away. Dignity is a dazzling gift.

If we dare to inspire our daughters to persist – so we must first be willing to waltz it out within our own lives. This is the dance of a Matriarch. This is true legacy.