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Rising Without Force: The Quiet Strength Women Are Reclaiming

  • 1 day ago
  • 3 min read

By Melissa Swonger, Ph.D. Candidate, M.A.


There was a season in my life when I believed rising required speed.


If something mattered, I moved quickly. If there was a problem, I solved it. If an opportunity appeared, I seized it before it disappeared. Like many women, I learned early that survival—and success—depended on responsiveness, competence, and the ability to hold a lot without letting it show.


From the outside, that looked like strength. Inside, it often felt like bracing.


What I didn’t understand then is that urgency can become a survival strategy masquerading as leadership. We learn to move fast not because it’s wise, but because slowing down once felt unsafe. We learn to carry more not because it’s sustainable, but because it once protected us from loss, disappointment, or invisibility.


Many women rise this way. But it comes at a cost.


Over time, I began to notice something quietly unraveling that pattern—not through burnout or collapse, but through interruption. Forced stillness. Limits I could no longer push through. And in that pause, a different kind of strength began to surface.


Not the strength of endurance—but the strength of restraint.

Rising, I learned, does not always mean pushing upward. Sometimes it means standing still long enough to recognize that the way you’ve been moving is no longer aligned with who you’re becoming.


Psychologically, this matters. When we live in a state of constant urgency, our nervous systems remain in a state of survival mode. Decision-making narrows. Creativity shrinks. Relationships become transactional. Even our faith—or sense of purpose—can turn into something we perform rather than something that sustains us. We begin pouring from an empty cup, pretending we’re not empty or numb.


But when kindness, restraint, and patience become the environment we live from, something shifts.


We begin to respond instead of react.

We listen instead of manage.

We move with intention instead of pressure.


This is not passivity. It is power that has been refined.


For women, especially, restraint is often misunderstood. We’re told to be decisive, assertive, bold—qualities that are valuable, yes—but often defined by speed and visibility. Rarely are we taught that choosing not to escalate, not to hurry, not to over-explain can be an act of leadership just as, or more, profound. In stillness, there is peace regardless of circumstances.


I’ve seen it happen in boardrooms, classrooms, churches, and kitchens alike. When a woman moves with patience in a hurried system, the atmosphere changes. Conversations slow. Truth surfaces. Others begin to exhale. Not because she demanded it—but because her presence made it possible, and that is not only contagious, that is how true leaders positively influence culture.


That is rising without force.


It’s the kind of rising that doesn’t require comparison.


The kind that invites and normalizes collaboration over competition.

The kind that endures.


This way of rising asks different questions:

What pace am I setting for those around me?

Does my presence create safety—or pressure?

Am I moving from alignment, or from fear of falling behind?

Am I attuned to God? Myself? My team? This reflects our values in action.


These questions don’t demand immediate answers. They invite awareness. And awareness, when held with kindness, is often the beginning of real transformation.


Women are reclaiming this quiet strength everywhere—choosing depth over display, sustainability over speed, integrity over intensity. They are rising not by doing more, but by moving differently.


And perhaps that is the most radical form of leadership available to us right now.


That kind of rising changes more than individual lives.

It changes cultures.


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