Category: Uppity Women Chronicles

The Uppity Woman’s Guide to Sovereignty

Sovereignty begins the moment we step out of the old story and into our own light.

I Stopped Carrying Pain That Was Never Mine There comes a time in every woman’s life when she realizes she has been carrying sorrows, expectations, judgments, and wounds that never truly belonged to her. Some were inherited—passed down through a lineage that began long before Jesus, Mary Magdalene, or Buddha. A lineage that taught women… Continue reading The Uppity Woman’s Guide to Sovereignty

Tolerance: The Opposite of Unconditional Love

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is sit with ourselves in the in-between, waiting for the next truth to rise.

The dictionary defines tolerance as “the ability to accept and endure.” So why does that word sting so much? Tolerance has always felt like a judgment wrapped in politeness — a subtle condemnation disguised as virtue. When someone says they “tolerate” me or my behavior, my nervous system reacts before my mind can catch up.… Continue reading Tolerance: The Opposite of Unconditional Love

This Uppity Woman

Fierce at every age. Unapologetic by nature. Uppity by birthright.

Some words arrive like a spark—small, bright, insistent. This stanza came to me that way: fierce, clear, and unafraid. It’s a tribute to every woman who refuses to dim, disappear, or become invisible again. A reminder of the truth we carry in our bones. This uppity woman isn’t arrogant—she’s awake.She carries her light openly and… Continue reading This Uppity Woman

The Uppity Woman’s Last Walk to the Cave

Standing tall, wrapped in laughter, ready to join the stars.

Even Death Knows Better Than to Argue With an Uppity Woman They said the old woman was dying.She said she was finishing. The tribe gathered with long faces, carrying bowls of water and bundles of sage, whispering prayers as though she couldn’t hear. She rolled her eyes. “Stop fussing,” she told them. “You’d think no… Continue reading The Uppity Woman’s Last Walk to the Cave

Yes, I’m a Bitch—And It’s Ms. Bitch to You

They didn’t wait for permission. They titled themselves. And the world had to adjust. — From The Uppity Woman Chronicles Sometimes the revolution starts with a name.

An Open Letter from One Uppity Woman Who Knows Her Name My first job out of high school was in a little mom-and-pop fabric store in Paoli, Pennsylvania. Mr. Goldberg owned the place, and the real boss was a silver-haired woman named Dorothy Gage—kind, efficient, and clearly in charge. When I was hired, Mr. Goldberg… Continue reading Yes, I’m a Bitch—And It’s Ms. Bitch to You

Radical Rebellion: Damn, I’m Magnificent

Caught in the act of rising — silver hair, sunlight, and the sweet rebellion of saying yes to life on your own terms.

An Uppity Woman Chronicle Women are relentlessly bombarded with messages that our bodies are projects in need of fixing. Flatten your belly. Lift your breasts. Disguise your wrinkles. The whisper is always the same: you are not enough as you are. I used to listen. For decades, I believed my body was a renovation project—something… Continue reading Radical Rebellion: Damn, I’m Magnificent

The Uppity Woman Chronicles: A Manifesto

Reclaiming “uppity” as the crown we were never meant to wear — but always did.

A love letter to every woman who’s ever been told she’s too much. For too long, “uppity” has been used to shame women who dared to rise, speak, and shine. This is where we reclaim the word — and the power that comes with it. According to most dictionaries, uppity means arrogant, snobbish, or persnickety.… Continue reading The Uppity Woman Chronicles: A Manifesto

We Marched So You Could Tweet (And Still You Call Me “Darling”)

Imperfectly beautiful. Fiercely alive. The woman who rose — and kept on rising.

The message popped up on Substack: “Hi Darling.” I stared at it for a solid ten seconds before muttering, “What the hell?” under my breath. I’m old enough to have burned my pantyhose in the name of liberation, and some random man on the internet still thinks that’s an acceptable greeting? A few days before… Continue reading We Marched So You Could Tweet (And Still You Call Me “Darling”)