pexels-photo-38867.jpegWhen we promote women, everyone wins

I am a mother, a daughter, a sister, a partner (wife) and a feminist.

I am like so many other women, ordinary in being extraordinary.

And I believe that all women deserve to be praised.

When we promote other women, the positive vibration unfolds and envelopes others who are linked to her.

I aim to explore this concept when I collect and encourage other women to share their stories of praise. Send me your stories and I will publish them on Word Press ( with your permission of course). Who is this Woman you wish to praise? What has she done to influence you? Why does she deserve to be promoted? In what way is she extra-ordinary?

When this idea Praise a Woman came to me, in my menopausal state of insomnia, I had recollections of the lyrics of a song by Fat Boy Slim “ I’ve gotta to praise you like I should!” It’s my obligation as a woman to other women. I have been privy to the gossip of the degradation of women, by other women and men;  sometimes meant in jest, but often about their appearance, their lacking something they should have and their life-phase status as one that could have or should have been different, as if the one making the assessment is an expert in life! I thought it was time to consider an alternative. Defining women with praise, that is seeing women as perfection personified because of their actions, their experiences and what they do for others with an unconditional sense of purpose and care.

I aim to shift the negative vibe and have made a point of letting other people know, especially women, that if we want to change how we are perceived, then we need to start telling stories that reflect how we want to be perceived. Gossiping does little for your complexion, so the vibe of joy tingles like the bubbles of a champagne flute promising exhilaration. In this thought, in this vibration there is enough to propel the female psyche to a level of greater consciousness.

At the time of this mini epiphany I was also thinking of acquiring a tattoo, influenced by my sister’s, always the rebel, was the reason I left home, survived a nervous breakdown and achieved successful employment. Thank you dear strong sister. One might say I was living in her shadow, as a child growing up in what felt like a tempest, you never quite knew when the next volcano was going to erupt, spew forth words of angst like punches in your guts and occasionally, beatings that saw obedience extinguish the self for the sake of the collective. All that we endured was for the sake of the family. There is merit in that anguish for we learnt to support each other and we learnt to care for and stand up for our beliefs.

I figured that if I stayed quiet and followed her lead, that maybe I would make it out alive. And I did. It was fucking hard to manage the noise of anger, discontent and upheaval, instead I sought solitude and peace. Church was a sanctuary, where one hour per week my daydreams juxtaposed against the drone, of the priest, never really praying attention. But finding peace non the less in that moment.

The tattoo design that I figured might look good was a paw print and the symbol of Praise a Woman- (P.A.W)  a story, an innovation of introduction. At the same time I thought of the Helen Reddy’s Song “I am Woman”, together with the visual of a Lion’s paw and the notion of “hear me roar”, gave a sense of unassuming power. The paw can be soft, quiet and passive, but can also grow claws, to protect her young, hunt food and to defend herself.

Do you have a story you want to tell about a woman you admire?


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