Centering Sisterhood & Self

In a world that tells a woman she’s only complete once she’s chosen by a man

It’s a radical act to center sisterhood and self in a culture that insists romantic love and male partnership are the ultimate destinations for a woman’s life.

Why do we, as women, so often subconsciously center men
while decentering our female friendships and our own life?

When we begin to unravel this pattern, we meet the sisterhood wound—shaped by generations of women being conditioned to see themselves and each other through the male gaze.

The sisterhood wound is the result of thousands of years of women being suppressed and pitted against one another for survival. It shows up as judgment, gossip, betrayal, comparison, and the belief that only one woman can “win.” This wound stems from scarcity, fear, and deeply entrenched patriarchal conditioning.

From the creation myth that paints Eve as the one who damns all of humanity, untrustworthy and manipulative, to centuries of religious and cultural indoctrination, women have internalized mistrust not only toward themselves, but toward one another.

Women are not just victims of patriarchy—we’ve also been conditioned to uphold it.

If you’ve ever witnessed a woman shaming another woman for her body, choices, or lifestyle, what you’re seeing is internalized misogyny in action. While discernment and critical thinking are essential, much of the criticism women direct at each other is a learned survival strategy born from patriarchal systems.

So how did we end up here? How did women become both the victims and enforcers of their own oppression?

Historically, women have had to compete for safety and resources. Though it varies across cultures, this often meant accessing stability through submission to a father or husband.

It’s only in the last two to three generations that women in the Western world have been granted access to things like their own bank accounts, credit cards, higher education, and salaried work.

We don’t have to look back more than a hundred years to find a time when a woman’s survival depended on being with a man.

Now add to that a culture that has long pushed the narrative that women are untrustworthy, manipulative, and sneaky—and you begin to understand how we internalized these beliefs about each other.

Even though many of us now live in a different reality, one where we can work, earn, and choose partnership on our own terms, these beliefs still live in our subconscious.

Hollywood and pop culture have only further pedestalized romantic love as the ultimate goal for women. Being chosen and claimed by a man is still seen, for many, as the ultimate validation.

“This lie—that we are only complete when we are romantically partnered—is one of the most powerful tools of patriarchal culture.”

—Bell Hooks

It’s as if our lives only become real once a man sees us and declares us worthy. Until then, we’re just waiting around.

One of the wounds I’ve had to sit with is the feeling of being a placeholder in women’s lives until they meet their “person.” That moment when a close friend enters a relationship and your friendship becomes an afterthought.

I’m not pointing fingers.

I’ve done it too. I’ve disappeared into the arms of a lover, only to forget the hands that held me for so many moons.

But when you think about it, isn’t it wild how quickly female friendships get sidelined the moment a man enters the picture?

As women we’ve been conditioned to believe romantic love is the highest form of connection, often at the expense of every other kind. We’ve been taught to idolize the male gaze and chase male validation, even if it means abandoning our friendships, our dreams, and the deeper callings of our own lives.

To me, this is one of the most damaging traits of patriarchal conditioning, and it continues to harm girls and women today.

My Own Story with the Sisterhood Wound

I used to crave sisterhood deeply — yet I didn’t fully trust women.

Underneath my longing for deep female friendship and connection, I still saw women as competition for male attention and validation.

Beautiful and succesful women used to trigger me deeply. Their presence stirred something painful in me — a mix of longing and unworthiness I didn’t yet have language for. It would show up as withdrawal, self-judgment, comparison. A tightening in my body. A voice inside saying: She is everything you’re not.

I had internalized the belief that love, attention, and belonging were limited resources and that another woman’s beauty or power somehow diminished mine.

If she was desired, that meant I was undesirable.
If she was confident, I had to shrink.
If she was chosen, I took it as a rejection.

I didn’t know how to hold another woman’s radiance without questioning my own.

This is the sisterhood wound. A wound born from patriarchy’s conditioning, where women are pitted against one another to survive in a world that benefits from our disconnection.

Instead of lifting each other up, we were taught to compete for the male gaze—for the illusion of being chosen.

And having internalised this wound, I spent most of my life longing to be chosen, to be saved by a man. I waited around for my knight in shining armor, wanting so desperately for the fairytales to be real.

I had to live out the shadow of the Maiden archetype completely. Longing for someone or something outside of myself to rescue me, before I could finally break the pattern.

Turns out, even a Pisces moon has its limits when it comes to romantic delusion.

The truth is: we were never meant to wait for a man to complete us or give our lives meaning. We can create a full, beautiful, expansive life with or without a romantic partner.

Waiting to be chosen isn’t empowerment. It’s self-abandonment dressed up as love.

It keeps women small. It keeps us hoping. It keeps us dependent. And who does that benefit?

This season of my life…

Is about honoring the sacredness of platonic love.
Of friendships that are not treated as secondary.
Of sisterhood that is central, not conditional.

It’s about celebrating the beauty, success, and magic of other women.
Not as a threat to my own,
But as a testament to our collective power.

Because her shine does not dim mine.
It reminds me of what’s possible when we rise together.

It’s about unlearning the belief that I’m only complete when partnered, only whole when seen through the male gaze.

It’s about returning to the relationship I have with myself as the most enduring, most essential one. About learning to root my worth in my own being—not in how I’m perceived or desired. It’s about choosing myself, again and again, not as a second option but as a sacred foundation. Because when I center myself, everything else begins to align from truth—not longing.

Here’s to remembering that love comes in many forms. And some of the deepest, truest ones are the women who have walked beside us all along.

Another woman’s glow does not dim your own. She is not your competition, she is your reflection. And sisterhood, when reclaimed, can be one of the most potent medicines of all.

Now, I know the power of sitting in a circle of women. I know the healing that comes when we are witnessed in our truth, without needing to perform or prove anything.

I know the deep exhale of coming home to sisterhood.

But it’s a journey.

And it begins with naming the wound.