In a time of global reckoning, it’s not ego or fantasy to imagine women as the force that will pull humanity back from the brink. It’s recognition. What we’ve carried all along might just be what saves us.

They told us we were too emotional to lead. That we were made to support, not build. That we were created to be protected, not protectors. And yet, every time the world has fractured, it is women who have held the pieces long enough for someone else to claim the glue.

Enough.

We are not just the keepers of culture or the background of revolutions. We are not accessories to the arc of progress. Women have shaped civilization in ways history has deliberately erased or diluted. And now, as the planet groans under the weight of failing systems, unstable power, and unsustainable greed, there is a quiet truth rippling louder through each generation: women may be the ones who save this world. Not because we are perfect, but because we are practiced.

We have been practicing leadership without the title for centuries. Organizing homes, holding families, running classrooms, healing bodies, building economies, tending to land, culture, language, and conflict. We have led movements from our kitchens and created art between shifts. We have survived war, colonization, climate collapse, and capitalism with little armor and even less credit. But the myth that power belongs to someone else is unraveling.

We are not waiting for permission. We’re wide awake. We’re remembering the shape of who we were before systems told us we were small. We are no longer knocking on the doors of traditional patriarchal societies, hoping to be seen. We are naming the problem. The imbalance. The machinery that keeps burning through life and calling it order.

We are the table. Not the guest. Not the decoration. Not the soft voice in the background. The table. The ground. The design.

This isn’t some dramatic upheaval. It’s a return. A steady re-centering. We are not here to take power for the sake of replicating the old order. We are here to rebuild what the old order has broken.

The structures built by traditional patriarchal societies have reached their natural limit. They hoard. They dominate. They punish. They erase. And then they wonder why everything is burning. If this was a test, we have the results. History is the audit. From government collapse to ecological disaster to economic implosion, the tools that built the so-called modern world are no longer fit to carry it forward.

And while some try to push us backward. Back into dependency, back into silence, back into roles that suffocate rather than support. Others of us are turning toward something older. Something deeper. Something that predates this version of power entirely.

Call it ancestral intelligence. Call it feminine instinct. Call it the rhythm of life that is nonlinear, nurturing, intuitive, cyclical, sustaining. This is not just resistance. It is resurrection. It is remembering the kind of leadership that holds instead of harms. That creates instead of conquers. That sees the earth not as a resource but as a relative.

This is not a reckoning. That word belongs to the stories we’ve already outgrown. This is a remembering. A holy re-entry. A deep breath into what has always been true but rarely honored.

Across every continent, women are not only rising. We are re-rooting. Refusing to scale if it means severing. Refusing to lead if it means losing ourselves. Refusing to participate in power if it can’t be shared.

We are not here to be invited. We are the ones writing the invitation. We are not ornaments to institutional change. We are its origin.

Because when matriarchal ways of being were the compass, societies thrived longer. Conflict was resolved with community, not conquest. Care was currency. Power moved in circles, not hierarchies. And healing was considered part of governance, not an afterthought.

So no, we are not just arriving. We’ve been here. Underpaid, uncredited, and still doing the work. Still imagining. Still creating. Still carrying the culture forward while others debated our worth.

The world is hungry for a new rhythm. One where empathy is not weakness, but wisdom. Where logic is not prized over instinct. Where nourishment is just as valued as profit. And where protection includes the planet, not just those who profit from it.

But let’s also tell the truth. As women reclaim power and restore balance, there are men who walk beside us. Quietly, consistently. And they matter, too.

There have always been men who understood that power can be shared. That strength does not require suppression. That leadership without domination is not weakness but wisdom. These are men who lead not through control but through presence. Who listen without defensiveness. Who protect without possession. Who show up. Not for applause, not for clout, but because it is what integrity asks of them.

They are not mythical. They are not perfect. They do not need to be named to be known. You can feel them when they enter a room. Not because they demand attention, but because they bring ease. They offer steadiness, not spectacle. They value a woman’s vision more than their own comfort, and they understand that the rise of women is not a threat to their masculinity but an invitation to expand it.

We need more of that. Not more saviors, but more witnesses. More protectors of peace. More architects of equity. More men who choose to hold space without needing to fill it.

This is how we will repair what has been broken. Together. Not with dominance, but with devotion. Not with hierarchy, but with harmony.

We are the table. The center. The continuity. The clarity. The source. And we always have been.

And those who walk beside us—not in front of us, not behind us, but with us—are welcome at this table, too.

 

Written by: Tasha Monroe

Founder, Simply Edyn & Co.

Editor & Writer, The Commons Dispatch

This piece is part of The Commons Dispatch.

Twice a month, we sit with the hard stuff that require reflection, resistance, and viewing the world as it actually is. It’s not perfect, but it’s honest. From Simply Edyn & Co., for whoever’s still listening. 

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