Submission is not a word we love. Not in modern language. Not in the mouths of women raised to be independent, assertive, and unafraid. It carries the weight of misuse, the residue of control disguised as love. Too often, it has been weaponized, used to silence rather than support.
In a world that tells us to dominate or be dominated, submission stands apart. It says, "I don’t have to win to be powerful." It says, "I can bend without breaking." That is strength. Quiet. Steady. Secure.
True submission is a choice, not a reaction to fear or duty, It takes self-awareness and a secure sense of worth.
The kind of submission I speak of is not blind loyalty. It’s not silence in the face of abuse or the erasure of voice. It is the deep, conscious act of trusting someone with your softness. It is partnership, not possession.
Think of the woman who lets her guard down not because she is naive, but because she is healed. Think of the wife who respects her husband not because she is less than, but because she has chosen to honour what they’re building together. Think of the daughter who listens. The friend who forgives. The leader who delegates. Each one is practicing a form of submission. Not out of inferiority but out of wisdom.
Because submission, in its purest form, is stewardship. It is saying, “Here is a part of me. I trust you to hold it well.”
And trust, is never passive. It’s one of the hardest things we’ll ever do.
So to the women who have been told that submission means disappearing, let me say this clearly: Your voice, your fire, your brilliance they are not contradictions to your capacity to yield. You can be soft and strong. You can submit and still stand tall.
True submission is not about making yourself small. It’s about knowing you are big enough to lower your defences, strong enough to serve, and free enough to choose love even when it’s vulnerable.
That, to me, is radical. That, to me, is strength.
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