Divine Feminine Rage: The Rise Back to Her Light
Do you remember that scene in Matilda where she tells her father to yell at her, and the sheer force of her suppressed anger activates her powers? I feel like that is exactly what the divine feminine is working through right now: not just in me, but in every single woman who is ready to stop hiding her rage and start using it to move mountains (or slam doors).
Okay, I haven’t quite figured out how to turn my rage into telekinesis just yet. But something massive is moving through women in this exact season, whether we are fully conscious of it or not. Do you feel it too?
A majority of my clients are women, and I have watched this exact theme play out in session after session over the last while. As we approach the Ethiopian New Year on September 11th, the timing becomes impossible to ignore. Inside my dual calendar system, this shift moves us into a collective Year 3, even while the Gregorian calendar sits in a Year 1. I expand more on this in my Collective Energy for September blog [Here]
Three is the number of the trinity: the force that completes a pair and becomes something whole, creative, and expressive on its own. While the number one is the singular seed, the individual standing alone in their own raw potential, three is where that potential actually bursts into form and speaks its truth.
It immediately brought me back to my favorite movie of all time, The Matrix, and the iconic moment Trinity introduces herself to Neo:
Neo: “Jesus!”
Trinity: “What?”
Neo: “I just thought… you were a guy.”
Trinity: “Most guys do.”
That exchange hit me deep early on, especially because I believe that art imitates life, and life imitates art. The exclamation “Jesus!” coming right after she reveals her name as Trinity was no accident. Neo, carrying that primary “1” energy (he is literally THE ONE, and “Neo” is an exact anagram for ONE), assumed Trinity was a man because the culture taught him that power only looks one way. But Trinity, as the 3, is the divine feminine force that resets the whole system and shows the ONE what he is actually capable of.
I believe that the Father is the creator, the Sun is the divine feminine, and the Holy Spirit is the infinite light energy moving through both. The Matrix confirmed this exact trinity to me in a way I could never unsee.
We have been conditioned to look only at the Son, the masculine, physical vessel standing in the spotlight. But behind the Son is the Sun: the divine feminine solar force that actually generates the light, life, and heat. The Son is the embodiment, but the Sun is the source. In the movie, Neo may be the One, but he is dead on the floor until Trinity bends over him, speaks truth into his ear, and kisses him back to life. She is the Sun that awakens the Son. He cannot fulfill his destiny without her light moving through him.
A few months ago, I saw a creator share a perspective that stopped me in my tracks: that Mary Magdalene held just as much spiritual authority as Jesus, perhaps even guiding him, but let him carry the public face of the movement because a woman claiming that level of power in that era would not have survived the day.
Scripture tells us that Jesus is the “Light of the World” (John 8:12), the physical embodiment of divinity walking among us. But in Genesis, before the sun or stars were ever formed, God declared, “Let there be light”—an uncontained, infinite solar source that existed before it was given a singular form. The historical story made us look solely at the Son as that light so we wouldn’t notice the Sun, the divine feminine source of that very illumination, shining right next to him.
It makes you realize why the number 13 was demonized in the first place. We were taught to fear 13, to call it unlucky, cursed, or dark. But 13 was always her number. There are 13 moon cycles in a year, matching the 13 biological cycles a woman’s body carries. And at that sacred table, Mary Magdalene sat as the 13th disciple. The patriarchy did not just push her out of the story; it took her sacred number and turned it into something to be feared, so that we would fear our own nature. But she was never unlucky. She was simply uncontained.
I met her, the Divine Mother, during a DMT-release breathwork session at home in the dark back in August 2025. She came in first as a warm, nurturing presence embodied as light. Then she showed me her magical but darker side: a fierce, uncontained Lilith archetype.
The feminine rage of a woman who has been suppressed and her name removed from existence. This rage is not presented in a cynical or anti-man way. It is simply about reclaiming our full spectrum of raw, authentic feeling. I can be soft, polished, and nurturing, but I can also have my nails fresh and still be claw-deep in the mud. It is not a rage that burns the house down to leave us in ashes, but the wildfire that clears away the old structure so a balanced world can finally be built on equal ground.
That divine feminine rage is palpable in almost every room I walk into and every online space I enter. We’ve sat legs crossed and mouths shut for too long. And the longer we sit on it, the deeper we bury her.
We forget that the emotional intensity society judges in a woman on her cycle is driven by hormones like testosterone, a force men proudly claim as their own biological power, yet panic when a woman embodies its raw drive. Every time we say no, every time we yell our boundaries with our whole chest, we embody that dark side so that we can finally find peace in her light.
A woman’s descent into her dark side begins the moment she is taught that big girls don’t cry, or that she is too much, too loud, or too emotional. When her very first period is met with fear, disgust, or shame instead of an initiation into her womb’s power. It continues with the first boy who breaks her trust, the grooming (whether by an individual predator or a culture that sexualizes her before she even understands herself), She is taught to not be provocative with her clothing and to shape her sensuality around what others expect before she ever gets to choose it for herself. The Maiden’s shadows, formed, as the light is taken from her innocent eyes.
The Maiden bleeds directly into the shadows of the Mother. Where creation comes without rest. She learns to pour continuously from an empty cup to keep everyone else satisfied, suppressing her own truth to hold together a house that is already fracturing. She hides her aging body, compares her story to everyone else’s, and puts her life on hold while waiting for a “someday” that keeps getting pushed back. She birthed in pain, and she continues to live in labor for the rest of her life, losing her identity in the needs of others.
Finally her cycle ends before she ends her cycle. The Crone is where her entire life feels like it is coming to a close simply because she has grey hair, wrinkled skin, and synthetic hormones to suppress her hot flushes. What was meant to be a crowning season of wisdom and living with zero fucks given becomes overshadowed by regret over the “should-haves.” She looks back at a life spent entirely for others, feeling invisible, lost, and as though the end is near before she ever truly got to start.
We have to experience this full journey through the darkness, learning the hard lessons of the naive Maiden, the overburdened Mother, and the regretful Crone, because that pain is the precise catalyst that ignites our rage. And that rage is what breaks the spell.
Having walked through all three shadows, the cycle begins again, but this time in full, radiant light.
We restart as the reclaimed Maiden who steps forward to claim her womb as sacred ground and refuses to suppress her truth ever again. The only grooming she permits is in her self-care routines, and the only heartbreak she experiences is when her favorite chocolate gets discontinued.
She grows naturally into the reclaimed Mother who raises the maidens behind her while nurturing herself first. She fills her own cup, decides that today is the day to stop waiting, and turns her dreams into her immediate reality. For her, labor is no longer a dreaded burden, but a conscious act of creation.
And ultimately, she becomes the reclaimed Crone who never lost herself to begin with. She cools her hot flushes with holistic remedies without an ounce of shame, wearing her skin like a map of a life fully lived. She shares her truth and passes her wisdom down to the maidens with words like, “I am so happy I did,” and her only real regret is not enjoying that chocolate before it was discontinued.
Our darkness is what leads us back to our light, allowing us to reclaim our seat in power, whether that is divine power, personal power, or world-shaping power.
So if a man ever looks at you confused and tells you you’re “acting like a man,” look him dead in the eye. Tell him you sat in your rage long enough to see right through the MANipulation. Tell him you finally recognized that whenever a woman stops shrinking, she is called a MANiac, and the moment her body steps into her ultimate season of power in MENopause, she is written off as broken.
Remind him that Neo thought Trinity was a guy because he was conditioned to believe that real power only wears a suit and carries a sword. He couldn’t recognize that the raw, unstoppable force reshaping his reality was the Divine Feminine standing right in front of him.
Tell him you aren’t “in your masculine.” You just stopped handing him your light. Tell him you are owning every hormone, every boundary, and every drop of raw truth that belongs to you. Tell him your rage was never a breakdown; it was the doorway back to yourself. And you are officially done playing a side character in anyone else’s Matrix.
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