Where is The Priestess?
Ana Gets Lost
This morning I was simply trying to find a coffee shop before a work meeting. You know, the usual LA seek artisan caffeine, dissociate, and maybe post an aesthetically pleasing story about it. What I wasn’t expecting was to accidentally infiltrate a mega-church compound masquerading as a public space. My mistake, clearly, for trusting an app that said “coffee here” and not “abandon all feminine hope, ye who enter.”The coffee shop (if we can still call it that) was located deep inside what I can only describe as a dogmatic fortress designed by a team of architects with a very fancy budget. There were courtyards. Columns. Fountains. A building labeled “Hall of Ministers,” which felt like the final boss secret headquarter of The Patriarchy. I will say though, the cortado was on point.And then I saw him.
The Pastor Bro
A man. Mid-50s. Black suit. Tie. Seating on the other side of a huge window like a scene from The Handmaid’s Tale: Evangelical Edition. We made eye contact for exactly 1.4 seconds. And something in me just…shivered. It wasn’t fear exactly, it was the deeply nauseating awareness that this man was safe here, protected by the centuries of spiritual authority his gender and the systemic forces that perpetuate it granted him. And me? I was the anomaly. I didn’t belong. Not because I lack wisdom. Not because I lack spiritual vision. But because I bleed monthly and have a skincare routine.As I walked through these sacred halls of AI sermons and recycled theological opinions, I noticed the general vibe: men in clusters, wearing suits, speaking confidently with the poise of those who’ve never been told to smile more. Women, meanwhile, hovered round the edges. Jeans, simple T-shirts, small voices, smaller presence. Shrunken. I felt like a time traveler from an alternate timeline where The Priestess never got cast out of the temple.And suddenly I was furious.
Where The Fuck is The Priestess?
Where is the woman whose very body mirrors the lunar cycle, who bleeds without dying, whose heart holds more wisdom than a hundred robotic seminaries?Where is the spiritual authority who knows that life is gestated in darkness, who can lead us down, and back up again, not just "above", but into ourselves?Oh, that’s right. She’s been burned, banned, and branded irrelevant. Or like a wise 20 year old once said, she's been yeeted. Let’s call this what it is: Humanity’s worst mistake has been casting out the feminine from spiritual authority. And not just because I say so, but because the world is quite literally dying from this imbalance. A spiritual hierarchy built entirely on masculine dominance is like an airplane flying with one wing, it just circles until it crashes.Let’s review some consequences, shall we?
Men are (statistically, spiritually, and neurologically) far more ruled by lower impulses.
There, I said it. Someone had to. Sure, generalization this generalization that, but you get the point. They’re not evil, they’re just a bit more wired for conquest, status, and horniness. While women, biologically, culturally, energetically, have been trained in attunement, intuition, empathy, and delayed gratification. You know, things that greatly help with divine service. (Also before you continue, know that I'm defending the lost voice of women WHILE knowing that all other non-male genders deserve a voice too, I'm just not the best person to represent them as I am only a woman that can speak for women.)
Women have historically been the original oracles, midwives, healers, and keepers of ritual.
But when monotheism married empire, it said “I do” to control and “hell naur” to gnosis. The feminine was systematically erased, branded as irrational or demonic. (Pro tip: if the only thing more threatening to your theology than Satan is an herbalist with nice taste in clothing, your theology is kinda weak.)
The Witch Hunts weren’t about cauldrons, they were about power dynamics.
Real power. Communal power. Intergenerational, cyclical, embodied power. Thousands of years of matrilineal wisdom torched so some dude could feel important reading from a pulpit while his wife runs errands and takes 5 different pills to get by.
Modern religion still hasn’t recovered.
You want to know why Gen Z is worshiping the moon on TikTok? Because y’all made the temples so unlivable for the divine feminine that she left, started an Only Fans, and found her own damn worshippers. (Slay, Queen).Meanwhile, I personally have a brain capable of intellectual complexity not devoid of empathy, a body that can build entire humans if I wanted to, probably bled twice their bodyweight in my lifetime and am still standing, and a soul tuned to frequencies these guys in neckties haven’t even heard of. And I'm just some girl. There are women far more advanced. And they will never be given a mic in that Hall of Ministers. Not because they are unqualified, but because those dudes are unqualified to receive female leadership.And that’s the most devastating part.That women with sacred gifts are walking around thinking they are maladaptive, marginal, or cursed, when in fact, they are the spiritual inheritance that patriarchy tried to bury. But here I am, coffee in hand, rage in heart, skin moisturized and SPF'd.So I’ll ask again:
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