Your Pussy Is a Portal

We are not here to rehabilitate what was sent to ruin us.

Photo by Anton Darius on Unsplash

Can we agree that the world is burning?

Okay, then. Let’s stop partnering with the ones who light the match and call it warmth.

This is a values-based call to reproductive discernment. Our world is on fire and at war. It’s devastating, inhumane, and I’ve had enough.

I’m saying this now because I want my young daughters to have energetic sovereignty—they will one day be the literal gatekeepers of evolution: spiritual, emotional, and biological.

Women: henceforth and forevermore, we shall not procreate with men who don’t care. I know you know what I mean. This includes the ones who don’t care until we bring it to their attention.

I say this as a survivor, fully understanding the terror of scarcity, the terror of lost safety, and how often we lower our standards because of those and other internalized lies. I get it. I really do.

But we have to let conscious evolution take root.

We only grant access to empathizers.
We open only to emotional intelligence.

They care about rights.
They care about humanity.
They advocate for others in a way that costs them something.
They use their privilege to empower others, without an audience.
They have strong, developed interpersonal relationships before they meet you.

I’m serious. We are hindering our evolution by allowing dead-eyed energy into our bodies and into our homes.

Humanity is at a breaking point.
We cannot allow these men—careless or carefully diabolical, actively destroying our world—to keep infiltrating our bodies, our energies, our homes.

The psychic scarring happening to women and marginalized people—to our DNA—is the same scarring we’re witnessing in the world, in the collective body of the earth.

Our bodies were not made for war.
Our homes were not made for war, psychological or otherwise.
And neither was the planet.

It’s time to seed the next generation with empathy.

Your pussy is a portal.

Do not let dead-eyed, don’t-care, white-innocence energy inside of you.
That is a hell no.

Don’t absorb that energy. Our bodies, our energies, and our homes deserve to be protected and fed by resonant values. And when they are, we will have the energy and wherewithal to recharge, to dream, to build.

But first: no more.
Our energy will regenerate.
We will reconnect to ourselves.
Because your pussy is a portal.

Let this be your reminder: you are sacred. You are the threshold. You are the portal.

If this speaks to you:

• Share it. Speak it.

• Talk to your daughters, your sisters, your friends.

• Ask more of the men around you.

• Hold the line with tenderness and teeth.
  

Author’s Note:
The body-as-portal metaphor is shared across feminist, spiritual, and ancestral traditions. This piece reflects my own interpretation, rooted in personal experience, motherhood, spiritual feminism, energetic sovereignty, ancestral protection, and complete fucking burnt out rage at systemic harm. The next generation deserves to inherit a world—and bodies—nourished by care, empathy, and conscious evolution.

This is not a commentary on nonconsensual sex, coercion, or abuse; those are distinct and urgent conversations that require centered care, trauma support, and accountability. What I’m naming here is the quieter epidemic: the socially tolerated dynamic of taking in men who are emotionally absent, disinvested, or apathetic in the face of collective harm. This is a call to raise the standard, not from judgment, but from reverence.