What Does It Mean to Be a Woman?

I was raised in a place and time where gender wasn’t something I was told to think about. I wasn’t encouraged to reflect on my identity as a woman; rather, I was just allowed to be. In many ways, this was a privilege. My gender was never questioned or placed under scrutiny. Yet, early on, I received an unspoken message that being a woman wasn’t all that fun. There were vulnerabilities attached to it, and those vulnerabilities were never addressed or explored; at least not in a supportive way.

Growing up, I didn’t see many (if any) relaxed, grounded women around me. My mother, my grandmother, and many of the women in my life were constantly dysregulated, running around, multitasking, and leading the family and their lives with an energy that was chaotic rather than harmonious. I watched them juggle so much, feeling like they were always doing, always running, and never truly present. It didn’t feel good to witness or experience.

All throughout my life, I asked myself, "What does it mean to be a woman?" This recurring thought followed me, even as I navigated the complexities of identity.

I grew up in the French Alps, close to Switzerland, which shaped my worldview in unique ways. My brother and I spent a lot of time outdoors playing in nature, building treehouses, and simply being. There was a deep reverence for the land, but I couldn’t have articulated it back then. I wasn’t raised in a religious or even a spiritual environment, so my connection to nature, to the energy of the earth, was something I just felt. I didn’t have the words to express it, and no one around me seemed to acknowledge it either.

I’ve often described myself as a tomboy. I felt much more comfortable in my brother’s clothes than in my mother’s. My father’s oversized sweatshirts became a shield, a way to hide from the gaze of the world. It took me a long time to realize that I was seeking protection from the way men would look at me. At 12 years old, I didn’t understand the attention, but I knew it didn’t feel right. I would later come to realize that my relationship with my masculinity was deeply entwined with my sense of self.

In my teenage years, I struggled with my sense of femininity. I didn’t feel drawn to the typical “girly” things—playing with makeup, jewelry, or engaging in the social games girls seemed to play. I didn’t feel connected to that world. Later, I would experience the painful betrayal of a woman who hurt me deeply. This, along with other painful interactions with women throughout my life, left me with the belief that women were complicated, difficult to understand and often not safe to connect with. Men, on the other hand, felt simpler. With them, I knew where I stood. But with women, it always felt like there were games—twisted, unspoken rules. And I didn’t know how to play them.

As I entered adulthood, I threw myself into my work. I went to engineering school, embracing my masculine energy completely. I rejected my femininity. It was safer that way—more productive, more successful, more accepted. I climbed the career ladder, burned out a few times, and found myself in relationships with narcissistic, toxic men.

I was trapped in a cycle of doing, achieving, and hustling, always pushing, always performing. I reached my breaking point.

It wasn’t until my 30s that I began to reconnect with my spirituality. This was the part of myself I had long ago dismissed, the part I had been too scared to embrace. I had fallen into the trap of thinking I had to choose between spirituality and the 3D world. But I soon realized I didn’t have to choose. I could be both.

I started going to women’s circles, to group work, and that’s when I faced my greatest challenge. I wasn’t comfortable around my own kind. Women, for all their beauty, complexity, and nurturing energy, triggered something deep within me. I felt vulnerable, fearful, and unsure of how to belong. I wanted to be loved and accepted, but I also dissociated. I floated above my body, disconnected, observing rather than participating. It was a form of self-preservation, but it was also a deep disconnect from my true self.

This experience made me realize how many of us—especially women—are living in a state of disconnection. We are so focused on doing, achieving, and proving our worth that we forget to connect with ourselves, our bodies, and the divine feminine energy that flows through us.

Throughout my life, I’ve always been an artist and a creator. I’ve found solace in making things with my hands; crafting, creating, and bringing beauty into the world. It took me years to understand that this act of creation was deeply spiritual.

When I create, I connect with the Great Mother, the Divine Feminine, the Goddess. All along, I had been seeking her, but she was already within me

During this period, I began to struggle with endometriosis, a painful condition that forced me to confront my body in new ways. For a long time, I saw the pain as something separate from me. I didn’t want to listen to it. But eventually, through much self-work, I realized that my body was speaking to me. My womb, my feminine center, was calling me back home. The pain I was experiencing was a cry for attention, for nourishment, and for love.

One day, in the midst of this pain, I found myself in a hot bath which is my refuge during times of discomfort. As I placed my hands on my womb, I began to speak to her. I told her, “I’m here. I won’t leave you again. You’re not alone. You are supported.” And in those moments, the pain began to subside.

It was nothing short of miraculous.

I realized then that my body was my first fan, my greatest ally. She listens to me, supports me, and guides me. But for so long, I hadn’t been listening to her. I had been running away from the discomfort, refusing to face it. It took years of work, of healing, and of reconnecting to the divine feminine within me to understand that my body was always there, always speaking to me, always waiting for me to return.

This experience of healing and reconnecting with my body and feminine energy is something many women are going through today. Many of the women I work with are highly masculine, out of balance between their masculine and feminine energy. They are overachievers, doers, and go-getters. They’ve built successful careers and lives, but something still feels missing. They sense a void within themselves but struggle to articulate it. They are disconnected from their bodies, their feminine energy, and the Goddess within.

It’s often in their 30s, 40s or even later in life that they begin to feel the urge to reconnect, to reclaim their sovereignty, and to listen to their bodies. They begin to realize that they need help. They need to be supported in this process of coming home to themselves, of reattuning to their inner wisdom, and of reconnecting with the divine feminine power they carry within.

This is where I come in. Through my own journey of healing and rediscovery, I’ve found a way to support women in reclaiming their feminine energy, in reconnecting with their bodies, and in remembering the Goddess within.

If you're still reading this, and something within you is resonating with my story, it's time. It's time for you to devote yourself to recentering, to landing in your body, and to reconnecting with your power. The rising feminine energies are urging you to take action. No more postponing, no more neglecting yourself and what you deeply need. If this resonates with you, let's have a chat and explore how I can support you.

You are the Goddess, the divine feminine and it’s time to remember.

With devotion to the Goddess within you,
Fleur