Thoughts on women’s circles, gatekeeping and claiming the space that’s ours
When I tell people I'm hosting women's circles, there are two types of responses I get.
Spiritual eyebrows and climbing halls
The first one is from the people who consider themselves spiritual and have been part of these communities for years. They've sat in circle(s), have chanted their problems away, and they (usually) look at me with raised eyebrows and a glint disbelief in their eyes: 'Really?' I understand this as 'who do you think you are to be holding circle'. What do I - a woman with no spiritual history, who only heard of Castaneda a year ago - know about circles?
This one is obviously tainted with my own projections and fears. I've asked myself countless times why & how do I think I am able to hold a circle. It's also rooted in some truth. I've reached out to several women who are hosting circles in my vicinity. I wanted to find out what is important to do, what traditions I should uphold and what should I be careful of. I wanted to be respectful towards the practice and all the women that will find the way to my particular circle. I got zero replies. While it might just be a coincidence, it made me think how much gatekeeping is happening in these areas.
It reminds me of a discussion with a friend a few years ago. He's been climbing since an early age and he was complaining how climbing became this big trend and now everyone is doing it and now all the climbing halls are so crowded and how he as 'the original' can't find the space anymore so he doesn't really go anymore. His premise: they are not 'true' climbers, so why are they taking up space? It felt weird to have to explain that as a recreational climber myself (who already feels out of place with my painted toenails and not very climber-like body-weight distribution), the climbing hall is the one space where my brain finally shuts up. Where I'm learning both to push myself out of my comfort zone as well as being kind to myself and not compare myself to others (if you ever tried climbing you'll understand - the only person you're competing with in this sport is yourself). How does the fact I haven't been doing this since kindergarten make me less eligible to be there? He couldn't answer.
Does something that become more mainstream becomes less sacred and watered down because more people do it? Sure, once a thing (method/practice/belief/...) starts gaining traction, there's a guru on each corner (and all social media channels). But there's also people who are genuinely interested. Shouldn't this be an opportunity to teach the newbies, but also to learn from the new people? If there's one thing I've learned in tech it's that no product (or service or teaching) can be so good it cannot be even better. Gatekeeping is a patriarchal construct, but this topic deserves its own post.
Esoteric vibes and real questions
The second reaction is from the people not running in the spiritual communities, who are sceptical as well. Not so much distrusting of my abilities to hold a circle, but of the format. What really happens in the women circle? How much does one need to share? Will there be prodding questions I won't feel comfortable with? Will there be (spiritual) practices that don't align with me? Will I be required to chant and and call upon the gods? And because it 'feels' esoteric, they don't give it a chance.
The truth is: it depends. It depends on a person holding the circle. In my circles, nothing is forced: you choose how much you share, and there is no chanting or spiritual performance required. While I consider myself spiritual, the way I hold the circle is rooted in somatic practices, sharing and journaling. It's a reflection of my journey, and what has helped me to step into my own power.
Twenty minutes, one talking stick, and my judgments
But what is a circle anyway? Why is this suddenly something that I cannot stop talking about?
Over the years I've sat in different circles. There is one particular though, that informs everything I do today. About a year ago I attended a 'workshop'* where we would connect to our wombs, our bodies, and heal our wounds. Eleven women, 10 participants, one host. Two weekends a month apart.
The first day we were asked to introduce ourselves, and this beautiful woman with long grey hair volunteered took the talking stick. Very classy, articulated. An artist. And she talked. And she talked. And she talked. For 20 minutes! About her! The audacity! I was so irritated. The workshop facilitator in me was furious! I looked at our host, who carefully listened to the woman and paid attention to her every word. But the schedule! There's another 9 women here to talk! And I had this (ridiculous, when I look back) idea, that I will show her how it's done. Show her how not to inconvenience anyone else. So I volunteered to be next, did it in super fast fashion, not really sharing anything of substance (I did later on though).
It took me a while to grasp the concept - I can be whatever I need to be here? Whatever comes up is okay? I can take up space, all my perceptions and experiences are valid, accepted and appreciated - and most notably - never questioned? Never interrupted, never shortened, never disagreed with. Total acceptance. Of every word, every feeling, every expression of who I am in that moment. Being witnessed in all my messiness. Wow. That was healing in itself.
I had to unpack so much that first weekend. From trusting that everything happens as it's supposed to (even if we don't do everything that the programme had planned), to getting a grip of how much internalised misogyny I have (me, the feminist!). I judged other women for talking too long, for their (life) choices, for their feelings. All of the 'I would do that better' thoughts. I judged myself for wanting to take space, for wanting to be seen. I tried to censor myself to be more palatable, to be more of someone who is perceived as smart and put together (whatever that means 😅).
Do you see it yet? What I judged in others, I judged in myself.
Taking space isn't easy. Unless you grew up in a household where your full expression of your feelings was accepted and revered in. Most of us didn't. Sure, I can tell you in one of my IG posts how to do it. Maybe I can tell you (how) to breathe before doing it, or to put yourself in a particular pose. You could read articles on the topic. It might work. The thing is, if your body doesn't have that particular experience how taking space actually feels like, it will contract - from fear, from pressure, and contractions by definition make us smaller. It's damn uncomfortable. And we take a step back.
This is the beauty of the circle. It holds you as you are in that moment, in your full expression - even when that is saying no and just listening in; or wailing because your heart is in a million pieces. And everything in between. The magic is in being witnessed and witnessing others. Women are told from a young age how to be everything else, but a full, living, feeling woman (unfortunately so do men and end up rejecting the feminine - that's why there's so much hate towards women). It's time we learn. And claim the space that belongs to us. And that's what I believe the circles are about.
*Fun fact: I found this through a Facebook ad a year earlier. I read the description, thought to myself it sounds amazing, but felt I wasn't yet ready. I did not see that particular ad for a year. Once I did, I applied immediately. Not having the money, not knowing how will I organise my kid for two full weekends, I just jumped. Sometimes, when the student is ready, the teacher appears through a FB ad 😂.
I obviously love every second of a circle. From the initial idea, to researching the topic, opening up space, hosting, things that come after. LAs I participate, I learn from the group, notice what lands, what I could do differently next time. That space is sacred. There's always gratefulness. There are full hearts. There's courage. And peace. And love. And hope. So much hope.

While women circles can absolutely 'just' be a community sharing activity (and I currently do them as such), I also see the opportunity in them as a group coaching container. There's a lot of women around me at the moment who are (thinking of) stepping onto their own path. High-achieving women in their respective fields. And the more we talk, the more I'm noticing patterns - we all know the strategies: how to build an offering, promote the thing, sell it, actually deliver it. We're capable, dedicated, qualified.
But what if:
- I'm not enough? What if I can't make it? What if no one buys? What if I fail and I end up in financial ruin?
- I get bullied? There's so much hate out there. What if I post content and everybody thinks I'm stupid, or ugly, or [fill your favourite]?
- My partner start resenting me when I become too visible/make too much money? (Yes, this is a real concern women have, and not without reason.)
- I end up working 24/7 because I can only succeed if I hustle all the time?
- I succeed and cannot handle it?
- ...
These are not hypothetical. I hear versions of them in almost every conversation. Worries around safety, visibility and belonging. Fears that keep us back. Every single one of us. I see that to take these steps we need to move the blocks and limiting beliefs within us, as well as doing the actual work of building our offers and our sales pipelines.
I'm building something. A container, a circle. For high-achieving women, who are starting their own path. Maybe you're done with the industry you're working with. Maybe you've always wanted to build something of your own. You just know, that where you are is no longer working. This is for women who know all the strategies to get ahead, but there's still something holding them back. If you're one of them, let's talk. In this circle, we’ll work on both: the inner stories around safety, visibility and belonging, and the practical steps of shaping and sharing your work.
If this is the first time you're meeting me:
Hi! I'm Amedea. After 15+ years working as a UX designer and product manager, I'm switching to helping women step into their power. I'm doing this by coaching entrepreneurs & founders, organising women circles, and building digital products I genuinely believe in.
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