Sovereignty Lost, Reclaimed and ... Lost Again?
- cjthrives
- Mar 7
- 8 min read
If my grandmother had been born during the Salem Witch Trials, the flames would have consumed her. Instead she was born in 1918, where the pyre burned slower, through exclusion, poverty, and systemic oppression. She was a beautiful woman full of spice, and sometimes sugar and other things nice.
As the world prepares to celebrate International Women’s Day, I am reflecting on five generations of women in my family: My grandmother, my mother, me, my daughters, and my granddaughter. I see the struggle to maintain safety and sovereignty in a country where our current leaders have decided to rewrite history, to erase the inconvenient parts. International Women's Day has been wiped off all federal calendars and approved communication channels.
What is Sovereignty?
Sovereignty is the undeniable right to govern oneself, without external control or coercion. It is the ability to own your choices, your body, your mind, and your spiritual path – without needing permission, validation, or approval from outside forces. Sovereignty goes far deeper than just the concept of freedom, it is the validation of the sacredness of each life. It is the awareness that every individual on the planet is a sovereign being.
At its essence, sovereignty means we are all equal, we are all the children of the ‘most High.’ We have equal inheritance to all that is the bounty of this earth. Yet, for millennia sovereignty has been denied the many by the hands of the few.
“I am under no laws but Gods,” (A Course in Miracles, Lesson 76)
“I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High.” (Psalmist 82:6 )
“Jesus answered them, Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are gods?” (John 10:35)
A Poignant Day March 8, Women’s International Day, has deep importance for me—not only because of the battle for women’s rights but because it is also my son’s birthday. Daniel, who transitioned in 2020, was an unwavering ally of women’s freedom and equality. He understood the battle we still fight today—so much so that he insisted his daughter be given a name that could not betray her gender on a résumé. He knew even a name could determine whether she would be allowed to step fully into her success or be denied opportunities before she could even speak a word.
A Battle for Sovereignty
My grandmother was born to Scottish immigrants, a culture rich in folk traditions, resilience and ancestral wisdom – where knowledge of land, herbal medicine, and spiritual intuition was deeply valued. However, growing up in the deep south she saw that she had little voice and laws, religion and societal expectations controlled her choices, her body and her future. My grandmother was a spiritual maverick, she didn’t follow the traditions of the deep south, and it cost her greatly.
At a time when divorce was rare, my grandmother married five times and divorced four. The stories behind those choices are lost to us now. As a child, I didn’t care—but now, as I work to break the cycle of poverty, illness, addiction, and broken relationships in my family, I wish I had.
· How did a young, divorced mother survive in the south and migrate to Colorado?
· What were the lessons she learned that could have been helpful to us today?
I can only piece together snippets of remembered stories and the history of those times -- a history that I’m sure is being rewritten even today. She wasn’t simply a woman without a husband; she was a tainted woman without a place in society. My grandmother lost her security, her community, and even her dignity in many ways. Without a man in her life, she had no financial stability, couldn’t own a home, wasn’t eligible for credit and didn’t meet the morality standards of many employers, leaving her in hard, low-paying jobs much of her life. At a time when many social services were provided through church communities, she wasn’t welcome. She and her children struggled to survive … until the next man came along.
Women's Liberation & Economic Freedom
My grandmother had strong opinions about women’s liberation and economic freedom. She knew firsthand what it meant to have your security stripped away, and she pushed her granddaughters to pursue careers so we could support ourselves without dependence on anyone else. She became a cosmetologist because it was one of the few professions where a woman could build a career without a man’s permission. She was inspired by the 1940s, Elizabeth Arden’s Montezuma Red lipstick campaign that made wearing makeup an act of rebellion. My grandmother wore makeup not as a decoration, but as an armor. It was one thing she could control in a world that refused to let her have anything of her own. To her dying day, she never went in public without her face done and her lips mighty red.
Nurturing Undesired Wisdom
By the time I came around in 1965, my grandmother was in her fifth marriage. She was established in a cosmetics career, loved gardening, cooking and always had a million ‘old wives’ tale’ remedies for how to have perfect health, beautiful skin, and a vibrant life. I was too youthfully arrogant to listen and learn. Little did I know those shunned ‘old wives’ tales’ were ancient wisdom.
In the end, my grandmother died a deeply traumatized, wounded woman who relied on alcohol and a brittle heart to numb her gentle being into compliance with a society that never accepted her. She loved her children and grandchildren but seemed to be at war with the world and my grandfather. Ultimately, she died of a broken heart, literally. Not an end I want for our future.
Collateral Damage On the Path
Ultimately, we mothers are fighting for the rights of our daughters and granddaughters. We know the cost, but we fight anyway—hoping the path will be easier for them than it was for us.
My mother watched her own mother clumsily navigate single parenthood and swore she would never live that life. And so the pendulum swings—from sovereignty to submission.
She seldom spoke of her childhood, except to warn me how to stay safe around men, especially when alcohol was involved. Yet I met enough people along the way to know she had many ‘uncles’—men who were okay with the pretty daughter being around as long as she kept quiet.
Poverty and housing instability meant my mother moved constantly, changing schools and communities so often that deep friendships never had the chance to form. She was always the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She dropped out in the 9th grade to help support her family.
She married young, hoping for stability after a lifetime of instability. But when her first marriage ended in divorce, she packed up her two children and moved to Colorado, returning to her mother’s home. It was there that she met and married my father—another high school dropout.
The Pendulum Swings
My parents loved each other and did their best for our family of six, but poverty was a constant reality. My mother waitressed while helping my father run his fencing business—reading for him because he was functionally illiterate until his 40s. Their love was deep, but so were the struggles.
Haunted by the trauma of being a divorcée’s child, my mother was determined to give us a better chance. Yet, she was also a divorcee. To make up for her 'indiscretions,' she learned to conform. She took us to nice restaurants—not for indulgence, but so we’d know how to carry ourselves in places where people like us didn’t belong. Still, her shyness and social anxiety betrayed how deeply she felt like an outsider.
For 30 years, she served the church—cleaning, cooking for elders, attending service several times a week—but she was never allowed to be a member. The divorce. The cigarettes. She could give, but she could not belong.
My mother's devotional practices make me smile in remembrance. Each morning, she sat with coffee, a cigarette, the Bible, and the newspaper. She’d read her Bible, kiss the cover, then reach for the paper where she would complete the crossword puzzle in pen and read the daily astrology report. She'd tentatively glance at me. “Want to know your horoscope?”
In my pious ways, I always shook my head. No, that’s from the Devil.
Eventually, she stopped asking and stopped sharing anything that didn’t fit into our conservative Christian belief system.
Now, I wonder how much wisdom she swallowed, what truths she buried, what parts of herself she locked away just to survive.
The last years of her life, I watched as her body and spirit slowly unraveled. The weight of undiagnosed illness, poverty, a struggling marriage, and relentless depression chipped away at the woman she once was. Often, tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. She seemed worn down by struggles she rarely spoke about. When she did admit her struggles, she often would make off-hand comments that this was probably God’s punishment for her past mistakes.
I took my mother's pain and belief in the punishment of God seriously. If my mother, an unwavering, self-sacrificing Christian woman, could not escape suffering, what hope did I have? The lesson was clear: I had to be better. More faithful. More righteous. And above all, I had to secure the one thing that might protect me from the same fate—a good, Godly man. Oh, and a good education.
Sovereignty Regained
My life took a sudden shift when my mother died in my early 30s. She was my best friend, and yet I did not want my life to end the way hers had – the way my grandmother’s had – in poverty, depression, addiction and poor health. And at that moment, I made a choice. I would do everything I could to break these patterns for the next generations.
I’ve spent nearly 30 years taboo-busting. Looking at all the areas in my life where political, societal and religious norms have impacted my and my family’s ability to live as happy, healthy, sovereign individuals. I discovered a passion for those forbid folk traditions, wives tales and esoteric sciences, which led to a master's in metaphysics and a PhD in transpersonal counseling. I spent more than 20 years in government, politics and community advocacy. I invest time in capturing stories, sharing them with my children, loved ones and the world. I deeply regret the lost stories, the wisdom that bounced off deaf ears, and am intent to no longer be blissfully ignorant of the cards life is dealing.
At almost 60, I’ve outlived both my grandmother and my mother. I’m three times divorced, joyfully single, the mother of three, grandmother of three with three grand pups. I'm living a vibrant life by my own custom design.
Still I find myself asking: Have we truly evolved? Or are we standing at the edge of history repeating itself?"
Have I broken the chains of poverty in my family?
We’re no longer blindly surviving—we’re consciously building. The weight of scarcity still lingers, but we are learning, growing, and expanding our potential for lasting stability.
Have we overcome the challenges of addiction?
We are healing. Some wounds still linger, some battles are still being fought, but awareness and resilience run deeper now than they ever have before.
Have we broken the cycle of depression, anxiety, and mental illness?
We are unlearning shame. We speak what was once unspeakable. We're equipped with tools and resources to navigate the emotional storms. The darkness still comes, but now, we have more light to meet it.
Do we live sovereign lives?
My daughters are thinkers, questioners, and truth-seekers. They do not simply inherit
beliefs—they shape their own. We each walk different paths, have differing perspectives, and hold a safe and honoring space for all view to be shared. That is the essence of sovereignty: the right to choose. And in that, we are free.
Sovereignty Lost Again?
Is the pendulum swinging again? My daughters call in frustration, in rage, in fear. ‘How is this happening?’ they ask. ‘How are we losing ground that our grandmothers fought to gain?’
They see a world closing in, a future that looks eerily like the past. They fear we are returning to a time when women are no longer equals, but baby-making possessions, property of men, without rights over their bodies, finances, minds
or futures.
And I hear the echoes of our mothers and grandmothers — What will you do now?"
As we head into International Women’s Day, consider the stories you want to capture for future generations. Look at the ways you can support women in these challenging times. May we all spend time contemplating how we can ensure today's young women and future generations remain free and enjoy the sovereignty that is their divine birthright.
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