Many women feel tension in relationships with other women, especially around judgement, shame, and differing beliefs. This blog explores why women shame other women, how privilege and rage influence this dynamic, and how curiosity can create deeper connection and real change.
There’s a conversation I keep circling back to.
About privilege.
About shame.
And about how easily we turn on each other… while believing we’re standing in truth.
Because sometimes, shaming other women doesn’t come from cruelty.
It comes from conviction.
From believing we’ve seen something clearly.
From wanting to name what feels out of alignment.
From wanting better. for all of us.
But if I’m really honest.
There’s a fine line between standing in truth and standing in judgement.
And I’ve had to look at where I’ve crossed it.

I want to say this clearly.
I understand the rage.
The rage for human rights.
The rage towards the patriarchy.
The rage that comes from generations of women being silenced, dismissed, overridden, and controlled.
That rage is not wrong.
It carries information.
It carries history.
It carries a deep, embodied knowing that something hasn’t been right.
And for many women, that rage has been the doorway.
The moment they stopped tolerating.
Stopped shrinking.
Stopped abandoning themselves.
There is power in that.

Because while rage can wake us up…
it doesn’t always create what we’re here to build.
If I stay in rage,
everything starts to look like something to fight.
Everything becomes polarised.
Right or wrong.
Awake or unaware.
With me or against me.
And this is where I pause.
Because that energy…
while justified…
is still rooted in opposition.
And if I’m honest,
it can easily turn into the very thing I say I’m moving away from.
There is a way to hold rage that doesn’t destroy.
A way to honour it…
without letting it lead.
I’ve been sitting with this through the teachings of Mary Magdalene and what she names as the seventh power of the ego… Rage.
Anger, when repressed, consumes us.
But when honoured, it becomes clarity.
Sacred rage draws boundaries.
Destructive rage silences truth.
Because rage itself isn’t the problem.
It’s what we do with it.
When rage is honoured, not suppressed, it becomes incredibly clean.
It says:
This matters.
This is not okay.
This is where I stand.
It draws boundaries without collapsing into blame.
But when rage is unprocessed…
when it’s driving the way we meet each other…
It closes us.
It hardens our tone.
It sharpens our words.
It turns truth into something that cuts.
And often…
it’s in those moments that we begin shaming each other.
Not because we want to harm…
but because the fire hasn’t been held.

This is what I take from Mary Magdalene's teaching.
That even this fire…
this intensity…
this rage…
can become holy.
But only when it is guided by love.
Not love as softness or avoidance.
But love as truth.
As presence.
As a willingness to stay connected… even when something is hard.
Because love doesn’t need to shame to be powerful.
And rage, when held in that field,
doesn’t destroy.
It clarifies.

Privilege isn’t always loud.
It’s not just wealth, status, or opportunity.
It can be emotional safety.
Support systems.
Access to healing.
The capacity to reflect instead of just survive.
And when we’ve had access to those things…
it shapes how we see the world.
What feels obvious to me
may not even be available to another woman yet.
No two women are standing on the same ground.
We are all moving through life with different histories in our bodies.
Different levels of safety.
Different capacities to process, reflect, and choose.
So when I find myself thinking,
She should know better…
I pause.
Because maybe she’s doing the best she can
with what her system knows how to hold.
This is where it gets uncomfortable.
Because sometimes…
what we’re saying isn’t wrong.
But the way we deliver it carries shame.
And shame doesn’t create change.
It creates contraction.
The body closes.
Defences rise.
Connection disappears.
So even if the message is true…it doesn’t move.
It just separates.
And if we are all part of one field… then every moment of judgement reinforces that separation.
Including in me.

This is the question I keep returning to.
Is it more powerful to call it out…
or to stay curious?
Because accusation can feel strong.
Clear. Certain.
But it often carries an edge of superiority.
Curiosity feels different.
I’m noticing something here…
I wonder what’s underneath that…
I don’t fully understand, but I’m open…
Curiosity doesn’t mean agreement.
It means I’m willing to stay in relationship
without collapsing into judgement.
Because underneath all of this…
is a pattern we’ve inherited.
When people hear matriarchy,
they often assume it means women in charge.
Women leading.
Women holding power instead of men.
But that’s not actually matriarchy.
That’s patriarchy… reversed.
Same structure.
Same energy.
Different people at the top.
And if I’m honest,
that’s often what I see when women shame other women.
It’s not a new way of being.
It’s the same pattern of control…
just expressed differently.
Matriarchy isn’t about gender.
It’s about orientation.
A way of organising life and leadership around what sustains connection and life itself.
In this way of being:
Power doesn’t sit over others
it moves between us.
Leadership isn’t hierarchy
it’s responsibility to the whole.
And intelligence isn’t just in the mind
it lives in the body, emotion, and intuition
This is why this matters.
Because when we shame each other,
we’re often enacting control.
We’re saying, even subtly:
I see the truth… and you should too.
That’s not connection.
That’s hierarchy.
And it keeps us in the very structure we’re trying to move beyond.
This is where it shifts.
If I truly want women to rise…
to lead…
to live in their power…
Then I have to look at how I meet them.
Because power doesn’t grow in shame.
It doesn’t deepen under pressure, expectation, or being told who to be.
It grows where there is space.
Where there is safety.
Where a woman can explore, question, and arrive at her own knowing.
There is a way of teaching that demands.
You should see this.
You need to change that.
And even when it’s true…
it often lands as control.
But there is another way.
Here’s what I’ve seen…
Here’s the mistakes I've made...
Take what resonates…
This kind of teaching invites a woman
to meet herself.
Expectation creates pressure.
Curiosity creates space.
You’re allowed to be where you are.
There’s nothing wrong with your pace.
Let’s explore this together.
Curiosity keeps the door open.
This kind of leadership asks something of me.
To release the need to be right.
To release the need to correct.
To release the pull to prove my awareness.
And to trust that truth can emerge without me forcing it.
I’m not interested in being silent.
And I’m not interested in pretending everything is okay.
But I am interested in how I show up.
In whether I lead with accusation... or curiosity.
In whether my words create shame…
or space.
And in remembering that every woman I meet
is walking with a story I cannot fully see.
Notice where you are pushing past yourself.
Pause.
Notice where you are judging another woman.
Get curious.
Notice where you are trying to be right.
Return to what is true.
Not perfectly.
Not all at once.
But gently.
Because this isn’t about becoming someone else.
It’s about returning
to a way of being you already carry.
You don’t need more information.
You need the capacity to hold what you already know.
Join me here:
https://www.nicolheard.com.au/capacity-to-hold
Your Heart's desires are non-negotiable, and your life should not be lived as a compromise."
-Nicol Heard

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Nicol Heard
On Wadawurrung Country, stretching from the Great Dividing Range in the north to the southern coast and from the Werribee River in the east to the Surf Coast in the west, we honour the Traditional Custodians of this land, the Wadawurrung people of the Kulin Nation. We pay our deepest respects to their Elders, past, present, and emerging, and acknowledge their enduring connection to the land, waters, and community. We also celebrate the rich stories, culture, and traditions of all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders who live and work on this land.