The Bougie Bruja

09/16/2026

A stranger emailed me: “release the s*x tape already. be useful.”

There is so much misogyny packed into those five words. The belief that a woman’s body exists for public consumption. That speaking openly about s*xuality makes her s*xually available. That her usefulness can be measured by what she is willing to expose for a man’s pleasure.

And beneath all of it, the expectation that he could speak to me this way without consequence.

This is one of the reasons I teach women how to stop abandoning themselves.

Because when someone degrades us, violates a boundary, or attempts to make us feel small, many of us have been conditioned to turn against ourselves first.

Did I invite this?
Was I too open?
Should I have shared less?
Should I make myself quieter, less sensual, less visible?

NO.

A woman speaking about s*x is not consenting to s*xual harassment.

A woman expressing her sensuality is not offering access to her body.

A woman being visible does not make her responsible for the entitlement of the people watching her.

Being in your power does not mean nothing ever shakes you.

It means that when something does, you do not leave yourself there alone.

You believe what your body is telling you.
You let your anger carry information.
You ask for support.
You set the boundary.
You decide what happens next.

We should not have to become smaller to be safe.
We should not have to become silent to be respected.
And we do not have to abandon ourselves because someone else has failed to recognize our humanity.

09/16/2026

Like the true Scorpio and Generator 6/2 with emotional authority that I am, I’m here to feel life deeply, wait for what’s right to reveal itself, and then respond with a powerful, wholehearted yes that transforms everything it touches… and sometimes that very power terrifies me.

When my identity starts to shift, it feels like the ground is giving way. My Scorpio core knows every real change is a kind of death, and my nervous system doesn’t care that it’s “spiritual.” It just feels like loss.

The roles I’ve played, the people I’ve pleased, the stories I’ve told about who I am start to fall away, and a part of me panics:
“If I’m not that… then who am I?”

As a 6/2, I’m wired to molt out of old skins.

But every time a new version of me wants to be born, the old one clings hard. My emotional authority means I can’t bypass the waves; I have to ride them. The fear, the grief, the excitement, the doubt. I have to feel it all before I can say that clean, embodied yes to what’s next.

My Gemini Moon wants to name it and find the pattern. My Libra rising wants it to look graceful while I’m disintegrating inside.
My Scorpio Sun just wants the truth, even when it burns.

So I live in a tension: the part of me devoted to transformation, and the part of me terrified of being annihilated by it.

The terror asks: Will people still love me if I change like this? Will I lose everything I’ve built if I honor what I’m becoming? And beneath it all: What if this version of me is the real one… and I can never go back?

Because I’m a Generator, once I commit, I’m in.
My energy, my desire, my life-force get braided into what I choose.

So standing at the edge of an identity shift feels like standing at the edge of a cliff. I know that when I leap, I won’t be able to half-ass it. I’ll build a whole new life around this deeper truth, and part of me wonders if I’m truly ready for the responsibility of being that honest.

But I also know this: terror is not a sign that I’m wrong. It’s a sign that the change is real.

So I move slowly. I breathe through the waves. I let the old stories grieve. I was never meant to stay the same

09/13/2026

You were never meant to build a powerful life in s*x, love, and leadership by abandoning yourself.

And yet, so many women were taught that thriving looks like:
Being the capable one.
The agreeable one.
The one who holds it all together.

The one who performs, caretakes, over-functions, and keeps moving—no matter what her body is asking for.

But a life that looks successful while you are disconnected from your body, desire, pleasure, and truth is not the kind of power I’m here for.

I’m here for the woman ready to stop betraying herself.

The woman ready to heal her relationship with her body, pleasure, and intimacy after heartbreak, grief, burnout, or an identity shift.

The woman ready to live, love, and lead from power, pleasure, and presence.

This is the work of The Bougie Bruja Co.

Not about fitting into someone else’s version of what an empowered woman should be.

It’s about claiming all of you—your body, your desires, your truth, your power, and even the parts still finding their way home.

It’s about becoming a woman who trusts what she feels, honors what she desires, and takes up space in her own life.

A woman rooted in self-possession—one who has her own back, trusts her body, claims her desires, and knows how to receive the support meant for her.

A woman ready to create the impact she came here to make without sacrificing herself to do it.

If that’s the life you’re ready to build, you’re in the right place.

I have 4 more spots for 1:1 coaching. DM me or comment BECOMING to learn more.

09/10/2026

We all inherit ways of being with women.
And we also get to participate in what women inherit from us.

What beliefs around pleasure, sisterhood, and love are you passing down?

09/05/2026

Last year brought me to my knees.

My dad died. My relationship, my nervous system, my finances all came undone.

I set aside coaching and facilitating women’s groups, the very thing that gives my life purpose, because I couldn’t hold space for anyone in the condition I was in.

I thought I was losing everything that made me who I am and I was right.

I lost the version of me who thought she had to hold it all together. The one who mistook control for safety. The one who believed that if she found the right tools, the right practices, she could skip the void and land softly on the other side.

There is no landing softly. There is only the free fall into the abyss one call’s the “dark night of the soul.”

I fell into a nothing so complete I thought I’d live there forever. No plan. No five-year vision. No version of myself I recognized in the mirror. Just grief, silence, and the wide, terrifying quiet of not knowing who I was without everything I’d built my identity around.

I spent months believing the void meant I had failed. That falling apart meant I did something wrong. That needing to rest, to stop, to not know, was something to hide.

It wasn’t failure. It was the fire.

Everything that needed to burn, burned. What’s left isn’t smaller, isn’t softer than I feared. It’s more potent than anything I built while I was still gripping this tightly to hold it together.

Today I led a s*x magic ritual for the sister goddesses in Regena Thomashauer’s most recent Virtual Pleasure Bootcamp.

I hadn’t guided it for a group of women in over a year. During the ritual, I noticed the words weren’t something I had to find. They rose through my body like they’d never left.

And I realized something. I didn’t hustle my way back to that room. I had composted and rose my way there instead.

The truth is some seasons ask you to grow, and some ask you to go quiet, to go dark, so your essence can emerge.

The void isn’t the absence of your life. It’s the dark where your next one is already forming.

You are allowed to rest there. You are allowed to not know. You are allowed to grieve who you used to be. You are allowed to let her go before you’ve bu

08/29/2026

I worked in tech as a Director of Community for an art and tech start-up for about 6 years.

I led two cross-functional teams, had 12 direct reports, and had one of the strongest track records in the company for talent development and internal mobility. I was really fu***ng good at helping the people I managed grow, advocate for themselves, and move into new roles across the company.

And I loved that part of leadership.

I loved seeing people become more confident in what they were capable of. I loved helping someone recognize that they had outgrown their role. I loved advocating for people behind closed doors, helping them navigate the organization, and watching them step into opportunities that were bigger than the ones they had originally been hired for.

I believed deeply in developing people.

But I also learned how much of leadership, especially for women, is about learning how to carry an extraordinary amount of responsibility without letting anyone see the cost.

How to manage the team and manage up.

How to hit the goals and take care of the people.

How to absorb the emotional complexity of an organization while still being strategic, productive, collaborative, composed, and somehow not burned out.

I was good at that too. On top of that I was a mom of two, competing in body building competitions, and commuting two hours a day just to provide for my family.

And I think that’s part of why I question it now.

Because I’m no longer interested in teaching women how to become better at carrying systems that require so much of them.

I’m interested in a different question:

What would leadership look like if women’s aliveness was part of the measure of success?

Not just how much she produces.
Not just how many people she leads.
Not just how much pressure she can tolerate.

But whether she is resourced.
Whether she is supported.
Whether she has access to her body, her desire, her creativity, her pleasure.
Whether the life she is building actually feels good to live.

I don’t want women to become better at surviving leadership.

I want us to change what leadership asks of women in the first place.

08/29/2026

This fall, I’m beginning a two-month Do******ix mentorship, MistressClass, with Colette Pervette, PhD.

Before I share more about where this exploration is taking me, I want to tell you why I’m here in the first place.

Life brought me to my knees last year.

My dad died. Financial collapse and relationship ruptures. I shut down a business that wasn’t making enough money. I struggled terribly with depression, anxiety, and panic. And somewhere inside all of it, I spent a year shedding nearly every identity I had known myself through.

There were parts of me I simply couldn’t carry forward anymore. I found myself face-to-face with what was underneath.

Who am I when I’m not trying to hold everything together?

Who am I when I’m not performing the versions of myself I’ve learned will keep me loved, safe, successful, desirable, or belonging?

And who am I when the ways I knew how to access power in my 20s and 30s no longer fit the woman in my 40s?

Around this time last year, I told my therapist about a desire I’d quietly carried alone since I was 17: I wanted to be a and the whole world I was curious about.

She reflected something back to me that I haven’t forgotten.

After months of working together through one of the hardest periods of my life, she said it was the first time she had seen me genuinely delighted and lit up about something.

Earlier that year, I’d met 𝕰𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝕰𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖚𝖓𝖆 at a 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 ✨ play party.

By December, I was telling my girlfriends I wanted to finally explore it.

And a few months later, a pro-Domme paid me to join her in a scene.

I had the best fu***ng time.
But more importantly, I discovered something:

The power I thought I’d lost through all the heartbreak, grief, and loss wasn’t gone. It had been there the entire time.

Last year felt like a demolition and I spent most of the year clearing through the rubble.

This year there’s a different foundation beneath me and instead of trying to rebuild what was there before, I get to decide what I want to build from here.

Especially when it comes to power.

(more in the comments)

08/29/2026

08/28/2026

I want to give you permission to reject me.

I want to give you permission to reject me if you can’t feel the pulsation of your body beneath your skin.

Permission to reject me if you do not understand how powerful breath and body feels like when they are in a secret union of presents together.

Reject me, if you do not understand the highest form of energy in our lifetime is love

And that the most powerful emotion is empathy.

Please reject me if I do not fit your model of consumeurized feminism.

Reject me if you don’t like the color of my skin, the shape of my body, or the grey hairs the grow fiercely from my head.

Reject me if you don’t like the way that I speak or the things that I say.

Reject me if you don’t like the fact that I am a mixture of witchiness, science, and history because all of that wisdom bleeds inside of me.

Reject me and let me be free of the mental model that you have of me that requires me to conform in a way that’s comfortable for you.

Reject me so that I can be free of the perceptions that you have of me.

Permission granted to reject me.

Because rejection is a sacred redirection.

08/28/2026

Climax and or**sm are often used as the same thing. But I find it helpful to hold them differently.

Climax can be the peak-and-release: the build, the intensity, the finish. Or**sm can be an invitation into a fuller relationship with pleasure—one that includes the whole body, breath, sensation, emotion, and presence.

This isn’t about making climax wrong or turning or**sm into another performance goal. It’s about releasing the idea that pleasure only “counts” if it ends a certain way.

Your nervous system, anatomy, safety, and desires all shape what pleasure feels like in your body.

When we stop chasing the finish line, we can become more available for sensation, choice, receiving, and erotic self-trust.

Want support exploring what pleasure, embodiment, and erotic self-trust can look like in your body? I work exclusively with women. Book a call with me. Link is in my bio.