I’m Unmanageable. What of It?

Let’s set the record straight.

The wild, honest, unfiltered feminine is not here to be managed, minimized, or “handled” by anybody. Least of all a corporate suit, a workplace weakling, or a man whose main talent is policing women so he can keep his own nervous system calm.

Every single time I walk into a room, an office, a social circle, a family gathering, or a platform, anything out of alignment starts to shake.

Not because I’m mean.
Though if you try to control me, you will meet a side of me you didn’t know existed.

It happens because I show up all the way. Sweet. Smart. Funny. Loving. And absolutely unwilling to shrink so someone else can stay comfortable inside their small shell.

And here’s what always seems to happen.

Some flavor of masculine energy rushes in to “help.”
Maybe it’s a know-it-all.
A moderator.
A mentor.
Or a guy with something to prove.

This “help” usually sounds like:

“Calm down, you’re safe…”
Which really means: don’t make waves, gorgeous.

“Let’s keep this professional…”
Which means: don’t bring anything real.

“You don’t need to explain yourself…”
Usually said when I wasn’t explaining at all.

That’s not support.

That’s containment.

And containment is about as loving as a straightjacket.

If you think a woman who is alive, wild, and free is going to roll over and purr because you said “you’re safe here,” you are in for a rude awakening.

Here’s why this keeps happening.

Real feminine presence is dangerous to anything fake, hidden, or built on secrets. When a woman walks in carrying her full fire, every shadow in the room gets exposed.

And most people would rather hush the woman who brings the light than face their own shadows.

So the old system scrambles.

It tries to police her.
Soften her.
Manage her.
Soothe her, for their own comfort.
Or just shut her down altogether.

Well, guess what.

We’re done.

If you try to manage me, or any woman who actually knows who she is, expect to get scorched.

I will not apologize.
I will not shrink.
I will not edit myself so you can feel safe.

If that makes you nervous, I invite you to go deal with your own stuff. Don’t come near my world with your scripts, your management, or your lessons. You’re not a lifeguard. You’re a leftover 80s song.

Women everywhere are rising. Wilder. Sharper. Clearer than ever.

We are breaking your boxes.
Laughing at your warnings.
Lighting up every room that once tried to keep us quiet.

And this is The Queen’s Path.

Where little girls either grow the hell up
or step aside for the women who came here to rule.

So to every system, workplace, platform, and “well-meaning” guy out there:

This is not a request.

It is the end of the old game.

The feminine is free.

And if that shakes you, you’d better get used to it
or step aside.

Signed,
Mama Tiff
The Queen’s Path

The Queen’s Path

P.S. The Queen’s Path is preparing to open again at the start of the new year. If you feel the pull, send me a private message.