Modern womanhood isn’t new — it's ancient
Reclaiming what was once ours
Women’s autonomy and self-agency aren’t new phenomena.
In Ancient Crete, women were landowners, architects, doctors, and spiritual leaders. Crete even had advanced plumbing systems with aqueducts, drainage, and flushing toilets as early as 2000-1350 BCE. Some evidence suggests they even had heated water. It wasn’t just a progressive society — it was a balanced one. A place where women held power, not as an anomaly, but as an integral part of community life. (There’s often a belief that if something is ancient, it must be outdated or less evolved. But that isn’t always true. Sometimes, what’s ancient holds a kind of wisdom we’ve simply forgotten to honor.)
Despite historical precedents, modern culture still struggles to embrace the idea that a woman can be many things at once—empowered and supported, strong and tender, ambitious and nurturing—without being a contradiction.
Role Congruity Theory explains this well: society places women in what’s called a “double bind.” If a woman leads with strength and assertiveness, she’s seen as capable, but less likable. If she leans into warmth and nurturing, she’s well-liked, but suddenly considered less competent. The double bind is yet another way society makes it harder for women to live in their full complexity.
I remember sitting in a meeting once, sharing an idea I believed in. Afterwards, a male colleague called me “intimidating.” At the time, I didn’t know how to take it—was it a compliment, or a critique?
He was the same one who later suggested I tie my hair back when presenting to CEOs. “It looks more professional,” he said. He thought I would look stronger, less feminine.
That was the moment I noticed the tightrope so many women walk—between being powerful and being palatable. Between being heard and being liked.
We’re often told who we should be. One moment, we’re expected to be delicate, a damsel in distress needing protection—the next, an independent “girl boss” out-hustling everyone. We should be soft, but not too soft. Emotional, but not too emotional. Strength is celebrated, until it edges too close to masculinity, and femininity is honored until it’s considered too passive.
But we don’t have to choose between the qualities that society (or those with preconceived judgments) have in store for us. The fullness of who we are—soft and strong, bold and tender—isn’t something we need to reconcile. It’s something to celebrate.
Because ultimately, women know how to be women. We don’t need fixing or reframing. We need remembering.
Real power comes from knowing ourselves, stepping away from rigid narratives, and tuning into what feels true.
I can be a woman who believes in the true spirit of feminism (equality, not sameness, at its core) while still feeling deeply feminine, soft, and intuitive. I can thrive in a strategic brainstorm just as much as I do in the quiet creativity of my home. I can host dinner parties with intention and care, set boundaries, take up space, and lead with clarity. This range of qualities can exist. This range feels like me.
And it’s not just women navigating a tightrope of who they should be. Men, too, are being asked to soften where they were taught to harden, to feel where they were told to suppress.
We may all be unlearning the roles set for us in recent history and tuning into more ancient wisdom.
In Ancient Greece, for instance, masculinity wasn’t just about overt strength or stoicism; it was about Andreia, a quality that combined courage, self-restraint, and emotional wisdom.
Thinkers like Socrates and Plato spoke often about the power of knowing yourself, about the importance of staying emotionally steady while navigating the highs and lows of life. In Plato’s writings, you’ll find examples of deep male friendships and mentorships built not only on strength and strategy but on vulnerability and inner growth. Emotional depth wasn’t seen as a contradiction to masculinity — it was a vital part.
My partner, for example, is emotionally evolved and deeply intuitive. He also holds a pilot’s license, is an adrenaline-chaser and an adventure-sport lover. Some of these traits are considered more masculine. Others, more feminine. But it’s not either/or. It’s both/and.
What we’re doing today isn’t new at all. It’s a remembering, a return to something more ancient within us.
Perhaps the future is less about having to choose specific sides of what we are and more about allowing for the natural expression of ourselves.
I’d urge you to reflect on your own experience:
What societal scripts have you inherited?
Which ones still serve you?
Which ones are you ready to leave behind?
The in-between spaces are where individuality lives, balance can be found, and something more honest and human can emerge.
Yes, it might mean rewriting the rules when it comes to how we structure communities, our roles and behaviors at work, or even in relationships (I’ll be writing about gender roles soon!). But I genuinely believe we can move toward a new kind of harmony; one that can more fully embrace our womanhood (and manhood!).
And this idea may not be as radical as some think.
