Wise Warriors: The Rise of Matriarchal Leadership

Why women aren’t aging out — we’re just warming up

There’s a myth in corporate culture.
A quiet expiry date stamped on women.
Somewhere around 45 or 50, we’re expected to fade out.
Soften our opinions.
Step aside for the next wave.
Disappear into invisibility.

But here’s the truth:
At the very moment society thinks we’re slowing down, we’re actually gearing up.

I come from a long line of matriarchs.

Women who knew how to hold families together —
and sometimes whole communities.
Women who worked the land, raised children, buried their own, and still showed up to feed others.
Women who weren’t just resilient — they were rooted.

Their strength lives in my bones.

And I carry them with me into every room I walk into —
especially the ones where I’m told I’m too bold, too tender, or too old.

We’ve nurtured others.

We’ve held grief in one hand and paycheques in the other.
We’ve survived systems not built for us.
We’ve navigated sexism in meetings, in medicine, and in motherhood.
We’ve learned how to listen, how to speak, and when to say nothing at all.

We carry stories in our bodies.
Wisdom in our words.
And fire in our bellies.

We are matriarchs in waiting —
and the world needs what we have.

In the natural world, matriarchs lead.

Orcas — like humans — experience menopause. But unlike humans, they’re not pushed aside when they stop reproducing. In fact, they become more essential.

Post-menopausal orcas guide their pods, pass on knowledge, and help younger whales survive. It’s called the “grandmother effect.” It’s wisdom in action.

Elephants, too, are led by elder females. The matriarch remembers where the water is, knows the paths, and keeps the herd safe through drought, migration, and loss.

If the animal kingdom sees age as a leadership advantage —
Why can’t we?

Matriarchal leadership is not about hierarchy.

It’s not about controlling others.
It’s about holding the whole.
Seeing the ecosystem, not just the org chart.
It’s collaborative, compassionate, and fierce.

It doesn’t lead from ego.
It leads from legacy.

So what happens when we stop trying to stay relevant

and start owning our irrelevance to broken systems?

We become relevant to the future.

To workplaces craving humanity.
To economies desperate for care.
To younger generations looking for a different kind of power.

This is not retirement.
This is reclamation.

We’re not done.
We’re just beginning.
And our leadership doesn’t look like what came before —
because it’s not meant to.

It’s matriarchal.
It’s wise.
And it’s on purpose.

I wrote this as a love letter to the women who shaped me — and to the ones we’re becoming. May we hold space for each other, lead boldly, and honour the wisdom we’ve earned. You are not invisible. You are vital. And the world needs your voice.