#214 The Wound Between Women: And Why It Hurts So Much

Aug 13

(Part 1 of 3 in the “Healing Sisterhood” Series)

There’s a saying that’s been echoing in my mind lately: “No one hates on a woman quite like another woman.”

The first time I heard it, I wanted to argue. I wanted to believe we were all on the same team, bound together by the shared experience of walking this earth in a female temple body. And if I’m honest, I’ve both felt and witnessed the sting… the sideways glance, the whispered judgment, the unspoken competition.

And it cuts deeper than most wounds.

Why It Hurts So Much

When a man disrespects a woman, there’s often a level of expectation, not acceptance, but recognition that society has conditioned this for centuries. Something that we all have a part in shifting. When the dagger comes from another woman, it lands in a place closer to the heart.

Because whether we consciously believe it or not, we want women to be our safe place.
We want to believe we can collapse in front of another woman and be held, not measured.
We want to be celebrated, not compared.

So when that trust is broken, it feels primal.

Here’s the thing, my truth has never been about hating other women. I don’t even like or use that word! I’ve always wanted to see them rise. I’ve been lit up by their success, inspired by their drive, and admittedly… a little envious of their confidence. That envy wasn’t spite; it was a mirror, showing me where I still longed to grow.

Yet even with the best intentions, I’ve been on the receiving end of the harder parts of sisterhood: the unspoken competition, the cool distance, the feeling of being misunderstood or unfairly judged. Those moments plant seeds of mistrust and for a while, they kept me guarded.

I know I’m not alone. Many of us carry these stories of friendships lost without explanation, of side glances that say more than words, of moments where instead of lifting each other higher, we clipped each other’s wings.

And yet… I believe in the possibility of a different way. I’ve never stopped believing in what’s possible when women stand with, not against, each other.

Where This Wound Comes From

This isn’t new. Female rivalry is a thread woven through generations.
For centuries, scarcity was our reality. Scarce resources, scarce opportunities, scarce social approval. Women were taught, directly and indirectly, that our survival depended on outshining or outcompeting one another.

It’s in the stories of the “prettiest girl gets the prince.”
It’s in the workplaces where there’s room for only one woman at the table.
It’s in the subtle way we’re told: If she rises, you fall.

We’ve inherited that programming. And without conscious unlearning, we unconsciously pass it on.

We are, after all, taught from a young age to measure ourselves against one another. To compete for attention, approval, or belonging. That conditioning runs deep. But there’s a more ancient truth that runs deeper still: women are meant to be allies. We were made to circle, to protect, to nurture, to rise together.

I’ve seen it in fleeting moments when the walls drop, when the masks come off, when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable enough to be real. Those moments feel like medicine. And I believe they can become the norm, not the exception.

Before We Can Heal, We Must Name It

I believe that women can hold both the celebration and the challenge, the admiration and the accountability without it breaking connection. I believe we can see each other’s confidence not as a threat, but as a beacon. And I believe that, even when sisterhood wounds us, it can also heal us.

That’s why I’m writing this series. Not to shame, not to divide further, but to name the wound.
Because when we call it out for what it is, we loosen its grip on us.

This is also why I do my Souling work and have created The Souling Method. It’s why I hold sacred space for women in retreats, and why the circle is such a powerful, sacred place to me. In circle, there is no hierarchy, only connection. We sit heart-to-heart, story-to-story, soul-to-soul. We witness each other without fixing, comparing, or competing. And in that space, the mistrust begins to soften. The walls begin to lower. The truth of our shared humanity begins to shine through.

This blog is just the beginning of a conversation I believe we need to have. One that unpacks the wounds, honors the truth, and dares to imagine a different way forward.

In Part 2, we’ll explore what’s really underneath this pattern: the fears, insecurities, and cultural conditioning that keep women in quiet opposition instead of bold collaboration.
In Part 3, we’ll talk about how to change it starting with the work we do within ourselves, and the circles we choose to keep.

Because while the truth may be hard, the healing is worth it.

Over the next two blogs, we’ll explore: