Recently I have had three old friends who I haven’t seen since before the pandemic, get in contact with me to catch up. In a heart beat I said yes lets do it. The thing I love about many of my long term friendships is that ability to connect, drop back into conversation, despite the long time period apart, like it was only yesterday that we spoke.
It is a joy and privilege to have friendships like this where there is mutual support and understanding, the ability to be open and vulnerable with each other. They are not easy to come by though. There is so much power in women supporting each other and lifting each other up. Holding space for each other and just listening.
Recently I have seen some really abusive behaviour online, toward women putting themselves out there, whether it be clothing stylists, ladies with their grey hair and showing that it can be beautiful. Just awful criticism and commentary on their physique, looks, or ageing naturally. This is not a new observation for me. For many years when I worked in the corporate environment some of worst behaviour I saw was of women not supporting and promoting the women coming up behind them.
They had internalised patriarchy and it was being projected out to everyone around them. To be fair we are all guilty of doing this in some way, but many people have the self awareness to curb egregious behaviour, despite what they may be thinking in their head. For many women they turn this anger or sadness back inward upon themselves, with often pretty devastating consequences.
Why do we do this?
So many women carry an invisible wound that rarely gets named: the wound of sisterhood. It shows up as competition, comparison, envy, gossip, and distrust between women. It’s the quiet sting when we see another woman shine and feel “less than.” It’s the inner critic whispering that we don’t measure up. It’s the subtle withdrawal of support or the quick judgment we direct toward one another.
This isn’t who we truly are. This is the legacy of patriarchy. A system that has long thrived by keeping women divided, pitting us against one another, and convincing us that our value rests on beauty, youth, status, or approval from men. It has trained us to measure ourselves against impossible standards — and then to measure each other in the same way. It disconnects us from the beauty and wonder of our cyclical body and from our true essence, our core self.
But here’s the truth: when women disconnect from themselves, they also disconnect from each other. And in midlife especially, this wound gets stirred. The old roles and identities start to fall away, and what remains is a deep call to come home to our essential self — the part of us that is whole, wise, and not defined in comparison to anyone else.
The Loss of Desire and Will
Another layer of this wounding is the way many of us have been implicitly and explicitly taught that to want is selfish, sinful, or dangerous. In so many cultures, desire has been shamed or suppressed. Women were told that “goodness” meant self-sacrifice, silence, or service to others, not listening to their own desires.
It is our jealousy that helps us attune to what it is we desire. If we can learn to listen to this trigger, rather than projecting the discomfort of it outward and onto others it can be incredibly helpful in helping us to focus on what we are passionate about. It can give us a north star.
Desire is not something to fear — it is a compass. It reveals what we value, what gives us meaning, what brings purpose to our lives. Desire fuels our passions and directs our growth. In my work, I often see that boundaries and will are inseparable: to know your “yes” or “no,” you must first know what you want. Without honouring desire, boundaries collapse into either compliance or defence.
Reclaiming our desire — our right to want — is part of reclaiming our wholeness, and it’s essential to healing sisterhood wounding. Because when women own their desires, they no longer need to compete for scraps of permission; they stand in the fullness of their own direction.
Ageing and the Fear of Invisibility
Ageing brings another layer to this. Beneath the surface lies a primal fear — the fear of being neglected, forgotten, left behind. In a culture that idolises youth and treats women as disposable once they pass a certain age, this fear often runs very deeply. Our nervous systems equate invisibility with danger, with exile from the tribe. This is a very primal layer that is passed down from our ancestors and is often deeply unconscious for many women.
No wonder so many women feel pressured to cling to youth with Botox, fillers, hair dye, or endless self-critique. We are presented with impossible beauty standards, thank-you airbrushing, that no one can stand up to. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with choosing these things, the real question is: why do men get to age with dignity while women are told they must fight nature itself? This double standard isn’t just about appearance — it’s about belonging.
To heal this, we need to create spaces where ageing women are honoured, desired, and deeply seen. Where we can meet one another not through comparison or competition, but through shared humanity — and reclaim the beauty and wisdom of every life stage.
Triggers, Projection, and Creative Expression
Sisterhood wounding also shows up in the ways we judge one another’s choices. For example, if we find ourselves triggered by women who embrace makeup, fashion, beauty treatments, or polished appearances, it’s worth asking: what part of me is being touched here?
Often, these judgments are projections. If we grew up in families or cultures where vanity or adornment were shamed, we may have repressed that part of ourselves. When we then see another woman fully expressing it, our nervous system reacts: she’s doing something I wasn’t allowed to do. That discomfort often emerges as criticism. Or maybe what you saw growing up was lots of hair and makeup and their is a general fear of ageing and being left out. A lack of understanding of those who choose to go au natural and not wear any makeup, who love that they don’t dye their hair. It is so different it feels terrifying to us on the inside.
But makeup, clothes, hair, and nails can be more than masks — they can be forms of art, creativity, and play. Sometimes they’re chosen from fear of invisibility, and sometimes they’re chosen from joy and self-expression.
Both can be true at once.
The work is not to judge but to notice our own triggers. To ask:
Am I judging her because she reflects a part of me I’ve disowned?
Can I allow space for the many ways women express themselves?
What does my own authentic expression long to be, if I gave it freedom?
When we soften judgment, we open the door to sisterhood. We create space for women to be whole — and wholeness always includes differences.
Coming Home to Ourselves and Each Other
Healing sisterhood wounding begins with this return to ourselves. By finding our inner ground, by reclaiming desire, and by honouring the truth that ageing does not diminish us but deepens us. When we recognise that another woman’s success does not diminish our own, that her beauty or wisdom is not a threat but an invitation, something shifts.
In any life stage we can heal this wound but Midlife, with all its shedding and awakening, is an opportunity to lay this wound down. To stop carrying what was never ours in the first place. To choose solidarity, support, and sisterhood as the ground we walk on.
Because the truth is this: when women rise together — in their desire, their wholeness, and their wisdom — everyone rises.
