In Praise of the Shy Woman…

There’s a push right now — loud, persistent, well-meaning — for women to get out there. Be seen. Take up space. Do the dance.

I love that energy. Genuinely. Sometimes my voice is big and I want to fill a room.

But not always. And here’s what I think we’re losing when that becomes the only template for feminine power.

Shyness is a beautiful flavour of the feminine.

As a biologist I understood this early: for a species to survive, a significant portion must be shy. Reticent. Non-exploratory. Watchful. The bold and loud get the cultural airtime — but the quiet ones? They’re doing something else entirely. They’re alchemising.

The shy woman in the room is watching everything. She’s noticing the texture of someone’s grief in the way they hold their shoulders. She’s filing things, turning them, finding the gold. And when she finally speaks — and she will — you should stop and listen. Because she’s been working on it longer than anyone else in the room.

I’ve seen this in the studio and in retreat. Women who choose the dim corner of the circle, the most remote candlelit edge. Slower movements. Gentler choices. They watch. They celebrate the other women. They keep showing up. And in their own time, on their own terms, they step into the light.

That moment is one of the most beautiful things I witness in this work.

The authentic feminine isn’t one flavour. She cycles. She has moods and seasons and a whole spectrum of ways of moving through the world. When I see a woman who appears “on” all the time — I start to wonder. Not to judge her. But because I recognise performance. She learned that being big meant reward, and so she stays big. That’s not freedom. That’s a different kind of hiding.

Shyness paired with wounding looks like armour. The woman who was told she was too shy — she’s cut off from her own softness, that tender quiet place that was told, somewhere along the way, that it wasn’t allowed to just be.

Shyness paired with feminine healing looks like a moonlit lake. Still on the surface. Luminous. Fathomlessly deep. Slow burning embers that are the hottest of them all. A diamond deep in the earth — pressure-formed, ancient, and extraordinary.

Most of us carry some shyness somewhere — in certain rooms, certain relationships, certain moments of exposure. Even the boldest woman I know has a shy place in her. It’s not weakness. It’s one of the most intelligent, sensing, wise parts of the feminine.

My invitation: How does your radiant feminine shyness want to be expressed today — and owned? You can say everything you want to say and still be her. It’s not what you say. It’s how you arrive.

Don’t push her away today. Breathe into her instead.

She’s been waiting to be asked.

What does your radiant feminine shyness FEEL like when fully embodied? Breathe into this.

Mine? She is “gauzy” floaty but feel safe. Ethereal. Observant. Curious. Invited.

I’d love to know how yours is showing up...