Born A Woman to — I Am Woman

Patriarchal precepts were not made for women—so why follow them?

Jan 13, 2025

Dear Friends old and new. Welcome to the Salty Crone musings. ✨ I’m glad you are here. Your likes, comments, and shares are appreciated. 💜 Remember that slowing down—relaxing out of productivity is not a pathology. We are meant to regenerate through winter—in the dark.

Holy — An artistic masterpiece by my friend and colleague Dorrie Joy

Patriarchal precepts1 were not made for women—so why follow them?

Woman does not mean being nice. Women have real edges that regenerate a reframe that protects what is holy.

Is the Image of Woman Evolving?

The significance of a woman can be best understood in terms of the time and culture in which she was born. And who the narrator is. I write through the lens of a female born in the late 1950s to working-class Catholic Irish-American parents. My early life was a version of an IV drip of shame from patriarchal religions that ignored or demonized feminine aspects of spirituality. Until I learned that patriarchal precepts were written by men and for men, I didn’t know I could crawl out from the jaws of patriarchy. This essay explores ‘reframes’ that regenerate our power to protect what is holy: the womb that births us.

Tori Amos was the daughter of a Methodist minister (her father, Rev. Edison Amos) and Mary Ellen Amos, of Cherokee descent. This religious and cultural background significantly influenced her music and worldview. Her song "Me and a Gun" from her debut solo album Little Earthquakes (1992) is a powerful, autobiographical recounting of her experience surviving sexual assault. She sang through barriers and opened conversations about violence against women. She became an advocate for sexual assault survivors, working with organizations like RAINN.2 Tori’s upbringing in a strict Methodist household was her creative edge for songs like "God" (1994) where she questions the male-centric depiction of God,

“What are you going to do about the witch burnings? …
God, you need a woman to look after you.”

Amos’s music celebrates female sexuality in ways that reject societal shame and repression. Her album Under the Pink (1994) explores jealousy, desire, and empowerment. Scarlet's Walk (2002) supports women’s reclamation of sovereignty and cultural identity, particularly in the context of her Cherokee heritage.

Tori Amos’ music aligns with feminist spiritual practitioners3 who celebrate women’s rites of passage as initiations to the heroine’s journey that follows a cyclical, inward journey of regeneration. Women continue to discover Joseph Campbell's hero's journey to be incomplete—a linear narrative centered on external conquest and self-discovery—a traditional masculine outward quest to slay dragons. Women’s spiritual journey invites us into the dark underground of unconscious conditioning—to befriend grief, and the pains of betrayal, and to shed the grip of societal trappings.

The heroine’s journey is rooted in The Unbroken Circle of Woman which coincides with initiations like menopause4 that culminate in the wisdom of the crone. Amos often uses mythological and archetypal imagery to reflect the struggles and power of women and the Cherokee's reverence for—Earth as the womb of creation—that spiritual maturation for women comes not from external triumph, but from traversing the hidden, regenerative power of the dark feminine—to reemerge with deeper insight and newfound soul strength—whole and holy.

“I come from a matriarchal lineage on my mother’s side, and they taught me about honoring the cycles of the earth and the feminine.”

“The land holds memory. If you listen, it tells you stories about what has happened before and what can be healed.”

Ain't I a Woman?

Isabella Baumfree was born in 1797. She escaped slavery in 1826 and later changed her name to Sojourner Truth. Truth dedicated her life to abolition, women’s rights, and social justice. Sojourner Truth’s speech, "Ain’t I a Woman?", became one of the most iconic moments in the fight for abolition and women’s suffrage, emphasizing the importance of addressing race and gender for justice and equality. She often invoked religious imagery that reinforced her points and questioned the hypocrisy of societal norms that treated women as delicate and inferior while denying those same protections to Black women. She challenged the idea that women were weak, citing her unique strength and resilience as an enslaved woman.

"I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me. And ain't I a woman?"
"I have borne 13 children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me. And ain't I a woman?"

Essential stories and contributions of women have been minimized or entirely omitted from the historical canon. When women’s roles are acknowledged, they are reduced to subservience or abuse—defined and shaped by capitalism or weaponized by patriarchal expectations. For centuries, women were cast as chattel, caretakers, moral compasses, or objects of desire, with our worth bound to the satisfaction of the male gaze—serving men’s needs or shrinking to fit a ‘controllable’ mold. The feminist movements of the 19th and 20th centuries began dismantling these narratives, demanding rights to education, suffrage, and autonomy.

Was my mother a feminist?

F*ck Yes! My mother Camille (1929 to 2013) birthed eight children not necessarily because she wanted to—she wasn’t allowed to practice birth control, get a divorce from a veteran consumed by alcoholic rage, own a bank account, or fulfill her desires. After years of battle scars, bruises, and fighting for her rights, she took Judo lessons for self-defense. It wasn’t long before she told Fr. Clancy to take his holy sacraments and go to hell. She left the Church, divorced my father, got a job, paid off the back taxes to save our home, and reinvented herself at 50.

Born A Woman to — I Am Woman

In 1972, singer and feminist icon, Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” became a pivotal cultural moment. It was more than a song; it was a declaration—a rallying cry that gave women an anthem to express their stories, mend heartbreak, witness, and empower each other to reframe who they are.

In a 2014 interview5 at age sixty-nine after a seven or eight-year sabbatical (or midlife initiation), Marie Osborn asked Helen Reddy:

What motivated you to write “I Am Woman?”

In the 60’s Reddy was all gung ho about the Woman’s Movement but found the music oppressive. She listened to the lyrics of “Born A Woman,”

“When you’re born a woman, you’re going to be lied to, cheated on, and treated like dirt. But when your man comes home, you’re glad it happened that way. Because to be his woman, no price is too great to pay.”

I Have to Do Something About this—I sat down and wrote “I Am Woman”

“We’re being indoctrinated with that nonsense.” I Am Woman did not take off at first. Reddy traveled around the country and was repeatedly met by radio station D.J.’s that told her, “I hate that song.” It was women who called the radio stations requesting, “Play—I Am Woman.”

Despite initial resistance, "I Am Woman" became an anthem for the women’s liberation movement. Its success wasn’t driven by marketing or industry support—it was fueled by the women who saw their struggles, resilience, and empowerment reflected in its lyrics. The song gave a voice to a generation of women fighting for equality and inspired countless others to stand together.

“I am strong, I am invincible, I am Woman”

Reddy’s powerful lyrics—transformed a cultural moment into a movement. By the time it won a Grammy in 1973, Helen Reddy had become a symbol of women’s empowerment. In her acceptance speech, she thanked God and referred to Her as a woman, which underscored the song’s deeper significance.

I recently watched the documentary I AM WOMAN: The Story of Helen Reddy, who in 1966 landed in New York with her three-year-old daughter, a suitcase, and $230 in her pocket. Within weeks she was broke. Within months she was in love. Within five years she was one of the biggest superstars of her time, an icon of the 1970s feminist movement, and wrote the song that galvanized a generation of women.

What possessed me to write this essay?

Watching I AM WOMAN reignited memories of my time at Boston University Consortium of Theology, protesting for women’s ordination, burning bras, ministering to women in prisons (of all sorts), and sitting in lectures with Carol Gilligan's pivotal work on “In A Different Voice”6 and Mary Daly's iconic resistance, “Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women's Liberation.”

I can’t pinpoint exactly why but Helen Reddy’s I AM WOMAN invoked a resurgence of emotion stronger than what I felt in the 70s’ because her lyrics are worth watching, listening to, and roaring with:

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend…

But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I've gained…

Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul
I am woman, watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my lovin' arms across the land
But I'm still a little embryo
With such a long, long way to go
Until I make my brother understand

How far have we come?

We’ve come far enough to recognize our strength, but not far enough to stop resisting the power-over dynamics and the bad behavior of capitalistic, misogynistic criminals.

We’re Not Going Back!

I’ve highlighted a handful of powerful women who turned brutal challenges into creative fuel, reframing personal myths and reinventing themselves. The vision of women as sovereign, whole beings continues to expand, driven by those who dare to dream and demand more—women like Cher, Tina Turner, Taylor Swift, and all of us who have paid the price.

Today, we see undeniable progress: women rising in leadership, activism, and innovation; women claiming spaces historically denied to them. Yet the control over women’s bodies, voices, finances, and property persists. Outdated cultural expectations, misogyny, and weaponized oppression loom over us.

From Helen Reddy’s time to now, I feel the feminine soul—restorative and regenerative rest calling.

I’ll end with this reflection — I’d love to hear from you in the comments:

What is your image of a woman? Has it changed over the years? What lyrics do you live by—dance to?

Is there a song, story, or myth you are reframing?

The Salty Crone ✨ Prajna O'Hara

Discussion about this post