In Celebration of the Divine Feminine

Reflections from Women's History Month

Powerful. When I think of women, cis and trans, that is the first word that comes to mind. Closely followed by intuitive, creative, courageous, wise, graceful, strong, wild, and fierce. The healthy, divine feminine transcends gender binaries and resides within every human being—like a seed with the potential to brilliantly bloom, connecting to our lifeforce, mother earth.

The divine feminine is also characterized by compassion, resilience, transformation, authenticity, deep connection, nurturing, grace, boundaries, and vulnerability. (Similarly, we all hold the promise of healthy, divine masculine within us—strength, action, courage, integrity, protection, groundedness, and presence—to harmonize with the divine feminine.) Coping mechanisms and survival strategies to seek belonging and conform within a patriarchal society imbued with misogyny (unhealthy masculine) create barriers to the divine feminine, dim our light, clip our wings, and suffocate our inherent gifts.

Women's History Month marks a time for reflecting on the shoulders of the countless women, including non-binary and gender non-conforming allies, who stood before us, who fought and died for equal rights, who sacrificed for the greater good—especially Black women, indigenous women, and other women of color, who have always courageously led the way in the fight for equality.

As a leadership coach and facilitator, it is a sacred experience to hold space for women as they embrace their unique genius, set boundaries, reclaim their deepest truths, step into their full potential, and reach for the stars, while unraveling a lifetime of detrimental social conditioning (things like, don't outshine others, be selfless in meeting everyone else's needs yet do not dare be "needy", don’t be too assertive or "bossy", meet unrelenting standards as leaders and caregivers without sufficient social support.). An awakened woman is the most powerful force!

A circle of women may just be the most powerful force known to humanity. If you need one, seek it. If you find one, for the love of all that is good and holy, dive in.

—

JEANETTE LEBLANC

My work as a Guide for CHIEF, monthly women’s circle, and annual Provence retreat are especially inspiring, as I facilitate diverse and dynamic groups of women coming together to elevate their leadership gifts, share in their successes and challenges, feel seen and less alone, and tap into their collective wisdom, brilliance, and magic to transform.

Honoring our Ancestors

What stories of the women in your ancestry—known or unknown—live within you? How do they shape who you are today?

When we think of our ancestors, many of us may go back to our great grandparents, the oldest generation we were likely to have met in our lifetime. Yet the truth is, we are made from the cosmos and stardust, Africa was the cradle of civilization, and our ancestry dates back eons. Fossils of early humans who lived between 2 to 6 million years ago are traced entirely from Africa. Imagine that—6 million years of ancestry equating to 240,000 generations.

I am infinitely grateful for the generations before me, who paved the way for me to have opportunities that even my grandmothers did not. Just two generations ago, my alma mater, the University of Virginia School of Law, was not officially co-ed; Title X, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, and other landmark gender equality laws did not exist; women could not open a credit card in their own name; the mad men era of sexual harrassment was legal... the list goes on and on.

A Tribute to my Grandmother, Beatrice

October 5th marked what would have been my grandmother Bea’s 99th birthday. She passed away in 2006, and life simply hasn’t been the same without her, though I carry her in my heart and the veil between us is thin.

I participated in a writing workshop with

Victoria Erickson

, in which she would share a prompt and we’d journal to it. With the prompt, “I remember that kitchen” the following words tumbled out—

I remember that kitchen…. The muted scent of past cooked meals, the dark brown tiles and laminate flooring of those times. Your warm embrace and deep voice. Laughter, lively conversations, and love filling the tiny space, making it feel expansive. The fancy porcelain dishes we used only on special occasions and handled with the greatest of care; learning after you had gone that they would sell for mere cents, their value in our rituals and memories more than in any currency. If I could return, I would ask you, what brings you joy, what dreams are unlived within you, who are you when you share the depths of your heart? If only I could have one more moment with you, in that kitchen.

On this second day of Passover, the Jewish spring festival celebrating freedom and family commemorating the Exodus from slavery in Egypt more than 3,000 years ago¹, I find myself swimming in memories of a childhood of holidays at my grandparents’ home. The aromas from the kitchen, laughter, and warmth of so many bodies in a tight space, with the window cracked for cool air. Spicy horseradish, salty water, and other symbolic foods of the seder. Reading and singing from the Haggadah. The moment my grandmother unveiled her delicious sponge cake, towering high, golden brown, soon to be covered in fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Since my grandmother passed, I haven’t been to many seders—she was my link to Jewish traditions.

As I reflect on Passover—this ancient story of liberation and resilience—I am also holding in my heart the pain, loss, and devastation from Hamas’s October 7 massacre and the Israeli government’s ongoing genocide in Gaza. I grieve for all lives lost. Holding onto hope for a path toward peace, dignity, and justice for all.

My grandparents lived only thirty minutes away from my childhood home in a modest one-bedroom apartment, and helped raise me and my two sisters. They met as teenagers when my grandfather, David, worked in my grandmother’s family’s candy store in the Bronx. They were both first generation immigrants, with hard-working Jewish parents who immigrated from Poland and Austria at the turn of the century for a better life. My great grandmother worked at a match factory in Austria as a child and had to stand on a box to reach the counter.

I often reflect on the courage involved in my great grandparents leaving behind everything and everyone they ever knew as “home”, to step foot onto a huge steamship—staying in steerage (the cheapest class), and enduring crowded, unsanitary conditions for 1–2 weeks—all for the hope of a better life on the other side of a great unknown. What a leap of faith, bravery, and resilience. Family lore has it that my great grandparents met on the ocean liner, and then through family connections in their tight-knit Bronx community, found each other.

Children of the Great Depression, my grandparents taught me countless invaluable lessons around sacrifice, the importance of family and education, simplicity, and what really matters. Bea and David married in 1944 and navigated being apart during WWII, along with countless other challenges, to create a beautiful life together, raising my mom, aunt, and uncle. Their love was palpable. They were my safe space growing up.

I have memories as a child of my grandmother coming over in slingbacks, pantyhose, and a pencil skirt, putting on an apron, and vacuuming, like a portal into 1950s housewives.

My grandfather passed away suddenly from a heart attack in his 60s when I was twelve years old, sending shock waves of agony and grief across our family. I remember being confused as to where he went—how could he be here one minute, then gone the next, never to see him again.

My grandmother remained in their modest one-bedroom home for the rest of her life, and never entered another romantic relationship. Her love for my grandfather ran that deep.

I think too that her love for herself ran even deeper. For she entered a true transformation after he passed away—trading her pencil skirt for faux-jeans (with a stretchy waist band) and slingbacks for neon white Reeboks that she kept perfectly clean. She retained her independence financially and otherwise. When she passed away, we discovered that she had a small fortune in the bank, as she had been living off of social security checks and dividends from stock investments my grandfather made.

In my younger years, I sometimes judged her life, wondering how she could be happy in such a small apartment, and why she did not re-marry. Now I appreciate that she created a Big Little Life for herself. She had everything she needed, and crafted a way of being that aligned with her values. Although incredibly bright, she did not attend college, which was common in her time. She provided childcare as a nanny to a family in our town, and I too judged why she did not pursue a more traditional career. I will never forget that one of the daughters requested a pair of my grandmother’s shoes after she died; that she too knew and cherished the love of Bea.

After Bea passed, in conversation with a friend with an incredibly successful career, she revealed that all she cared about for her next life chapter was being there for her daughters when they have children, that she could not wait to be a grandmother. It all clicked for me in that moment—my grandmother found her deeper purpose in being a caretaker for children. What a beautiful and powerful gift she gave us.

Nevertheless, She Persisted

While I am celebrating all women today and every day, with each of our intricate webs of ancestry, I am bristling at the fact that we still need to raise awareness of and combat the myriad ways women continue to be repressed, enslaved, harmed, and held back by social, economic, legal, cultural, political, and other forces.

Though we have made tremendous strides towards equality and inclusivity, certain fundamental human rights, which we had enjoyed for decades, are under relentless attack today under the new Administration. Our rights to bodily autonomy, access to healthcare, reproductive freedom, marry the people we love, be authentic to our gender, and fair and free elections are all on the chopping block. DEIA, essential for removing barriers and ensuring historically marginalized groups have a fair shot, is being dismantled. Gratitude to companies like Costco, Apple, Ben & Jerry's, Delta, and Patagonia, who are standing firm in their commitments and in their integrity.

Nevertheless, we persist, and I remain hopeful, for when women rise together towards a more just, equal, and inclusive society, we are truly unstoppable.

Prompts for Reflection

1. What stories of the women in your ancestry—known or unknown—live within you? How do they shape who you are today?

2. When and where do you feel most connected to your intuition, and how do you honor this?

3. What is your relationship with your full power? Do you embrace it or fear it? Why? (See Our Deepest Fear poem, below)

4. If your soul could speak to you as a wise elder, what would she say?

5. What parts of yourself have you silenced or hidden due to societal expectations, survival strategies, or conditioning placed on you? How are you reclaiming them?

6. When have you felt most powerful and aligned with your authentic strengths as a leader? What contributed to that moment?

7. What is one courageous action you can take to honor the generations of women before you and create a better world for those to come?

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear in that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the World.
There is nothing enlightening about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel unsure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
As we let our own Light shine,
we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson

1. Fascinating historical account