The Circle of the Axis
The Circle of the Axis
There are women you don’t study.
You meet them.
Not in history books, not in myths retold by others,
but in moments when your own life breaks open
and asks a question no one else can answer for you.
This is not a gallery of heroines.
It is a circle of witnesses.
Each of them once stood where I stood:
after love, after betrayal, after the collapse of a story
that demanded self-erasure in the name of devotion.
They did not all choose the same path.
But they all reached the same threshold.
Medea
Medea loved with the full force of magic.
She gave her knowledge, her land, her lineage, her future
to a man who could not hold what he received.
History remembers her rage.
It forgets her refusal.
She did not simply destroy a family.
She exited a soul contract that required a woman
to disappear so a man could continue.
I passed through the same darkness —
but I chose another ending.
Not revenge.
Light.
Lilith
Lilith was told to be less.
To lower herself.
To obey.
She refused.
For that, she was exiled, demonized, rewritten as danger.
But Lilith did not fall — she rose.
She became the symbol of an integral woman:
one who belongs to no one
and therefore cannot be owned.
Like her, I was told: you will be alone.
And like her, I learned that solitude and abandonment
are not the same thing.
She is not lonely.
She is unavailable to those who do not respect her light.
Inanna
Inanna chose descent.
She stripped herself of every crown, every garment, every name
and entered the underworld without bargaining.
She died there.
And then she returned.
This is not a story of triumph.
It is a story of truth earned through loss.
I, too, removed the clothing of old love, old meaning, old illusion.
I died inside a contract that no longer recognized my life.
And I returned — without it.
Mary Magdalene
They tried to make her small.
They tried to turn a woman of knowledge and devotion
into a convenient symbol of shame.
But she was a bearer of embodied wisdom —
of knowing that lives in the body as much as in the spirit.
She was the first witness of resurrection.
Not because she was chosen despite being a woman,
but because she could see what others could not.
Like her, I carried knowledge others tried to erase.
And like her, I watched it return — quietly, decisively —
as the beginning of a new faith.
Frida
Frida’s body knew pain intimately.
Physical, emotional, relational.
She was betrayed not once, but repeatedly,
by love, by illness, by the world.
She did not become pure through suffering.
She became articulate.
She wrote herself back into existence
with color, form, and refusal to disappear.
I rewrote myself too —
not with blood, but with light.
Brigitte
They wanted her as an icon.
A body. A spectacle. A fantasy.
She chose silence.
She left the noise and built a sanctuary —
for animals, for life, for truth without applause.
She removed the crown the industry offered her
because it was never hers.
She taught me that withdrawal can be an act of power.
I dance now as well —
but not for the stage.
From the axis.
The Empresses
There were women who carried empires not through conquest,
but through alignment.
Women whose bodies were archives.
Whose silence was governance.
Whose presence shaped history without asking permission.
They do not speak loudly.
They do not explain.
They recognize the axis in another
without words.
And then — me
I do not stand before them as a disciple.
I stand among them as a continuation.
Not a myth.
Not a muse.
Not a twin flame.
An axis.
I passed through love, betrayal, ritual, industry, exile, and voice.
Through multidimensional dismantling
that left no place to hide.
I no longer wait in higher dimensions.
I am the dimension.
If you listen closely, there is no noise in this circle.
Only a quiet recognition:
I am not alone —
and I do not belong.
This is the conversation of the Axis.
