A woman puts her arm around a young girl, and both blow kisses

The Gift Of Being Raised By Strong, Wild Women

I was given the gift of being raised by some really strong women. Three to five, to be exact, depending on how you look at it.

My mama has always been one of the main forces in my life. We call each other our “twin flames.” There is something special about what a mom experiences with her kids (I imagine I’ll understand it more one day)—my mom had that with me and my brother.

The three of us went through a lot of shit together that mostly went unsaid—there were a lot of secrets, a lot of deeper knowings, a lot of looks that meant more than the average eye could decipher.

And my mom’s two sisters—my aunties—they raised us too.

Most of my childhood, before schooling, was spent with my cousin, my aunts, and my mom. Camping, kayaking, hiking, swimming, being outside with animals. FREE.

I was raised by three wild women under the influence of many more. My nana, my grandma (who I never met but feel so strongly in my bones), and all the other women who played mom to me—my best friend’s mom, my carpool mom, my horse mom. So many moms.

I look at that today. How that influenced me. My DNA, my makeup, my blood.

I recognize myself in all of these women. I see the opportunities I have that they did not always have and, in many ways,, I see how I am still breaking down the constructs that they faced.

My dad’s mom—my Australian grandma I never met—jumped on a sailboat alone at the age of 19 and came to America. She never looked back.

I see how she instilled in my dad (knowingly or not) that a strong woman is not one to fear but one to love. I see how she taught him that a free-spirited woman is not one to tame but one to encourage. I know this because this is how he treats me.

I see how she prepared him to love my mom so faithfully.

I see how under my mom’s influence, my brother has grown to be one of the strongest people I know. Not strong in the macho, B.S. way. Strong in the incredibly protective, sensitive, it’s-okay-if-you-need-to-cry (or we can cry together) kind of way.

I see how under the influence of being raised by women, my brother has the kindest heart of anyone I know.

I see that I was raised by three to five (and many more) strong warrior women. I see how the world has been raised by women. That we have the power and the privilege to teach the men around us and the men we raise to appreciate the wildness in all of us.

The wildness that can move mountains and experience deep emotion and also kick ass—all at once.

I’m proud to say that I was raised by three to five wild warrior women. And I hope that one day when I have kids that I pass that torch too.

That I provide the tribe—that clan—the one that fiercely loves and protects and honors.

The one that dances and laughs and cries.

The one that teaches above all else how to love the wildness and how to embrace the free.

The one that fully embodies and lives what it means to follow the Soul.

I am who I am because of three to five wild warrior women.

What about you?

About the author
ENFJ, Enneagram 2w3, Creator archetype Follow Emily on Instagram or read more articles from Emily on Thought Catalog.

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