When a Woman Says, ‘Yay Me’ and It Pisses People Off.

When confidence is called arrogance and what that really says.

A week ago, I wrote something personal.

It was my birthday week. I was reflecting, celebrating, naming the things I’ve built and survived and loved my way through.
The post was joyful. Rooted. Free.
It was me exactly where I am now.

And then came the comment. The spear.

“This feels like Olympic-level self-absorption.”
“Wellness cosplay.”
“A standing ovation for one, performed under a spotlight you lit yourself.”

And my favorite part ~~
“And the message underneath it all? If you’re not surfing, manifesting, mentoring, and lighting candles for your inner revolution, you’re probably not enlightened enough to be in the club.”

What bugged me out the most wasn’t the critique itself. It was the energy behind it. The discomfort. The assumption. The subtle rage. She didn’t just dislike what I said. She resented that I dared to say it out loud and declare it in writing.

But here’s what I know.

When a woman is confident, grounded, joyful, and speaks her unapologetic truth, people feel things.

Some are inspired. Some are triggered. Some come in hotAF with their projections, and their own ideas of what confidence looks like.

That comment didn’t just land on my Substack. It landed in the middle of a much bigger conversation about how women are allowed to show up.

Because joy, apparently, still requires permission.
And success? Only acceptable if you wrap it in self-deprecation.
Confidence? Still mistaken for arrogance.
And celebration? Somehow threatening if you’re a woman who’s lived long enough to earn it.

So, let’s be clear. I didn’t write that post for likes, claps, or approval.
I wrote it because it was my truth. Because I’ve lived through grief, reinvention, being underestimated, and starting over more than once. Because I’ve finally reached a place where I don’t need to edit my joy to make it more comfortable for someone else to consume.

That’s not performance. That’s what it looks like when a woman learns to celebrate without shame and being fearless enough to share it with the world.

And what cut deepest wasn’t even the critique itself.
It was how off it felt to me.

Because if you know me, or have read me for a while, you know I take real pride in showing up for other women. In listening. Uplifting. Mentoring. Holding space when it’s needed most. And always reminding them they’re not alone. That’s not strategy. That’s how I live.

So, to have someone reduce that joy, that reflection, that truth, to some kind of brand-building bullshit, it didn’t just miss the mark, it missed the whole point.

I don’t share my story to be the loudest voice in the room.
I speak it so someone else feels brave enough to speak theirs.

I don’t create these posts to be worshipped or perform wisdom.
I write them because I know what it’s like to feel invisible and how long it can take to find your way back to your voice.

So yes, I celebrate.
Not because I think I’m better.
But because I know how hard I’ve fought to get here.
Because I’ve walked through seasons of grief, fear, burnout, doubt, and reinvention.
And because I want women, especially women who’ve been told they’re too much, to know they’re not alone.

You want to call it self-congratulatory? Fine.
But don’t ignore the years of doing the work.
Don’t skip over the countless times I’ve shown up quietly, for others, without fanfare. Supporting other women isn’t a side note in my story.
It’s the heart of it. And I’ll keep living and writing from that exact place.

Soooo, if you're reading this, and you’ve ever been told you’re too proud, too much, too loud, ‘too performative.’

***Let this be your reminder***

You’re not!
You’re just finally taking up the space you were always meant to.
And not everyone will get it.
But you are not here to be gotten or be intimidated.

You’re here to be whole.
To shine.
To keep becoming.
Aloud. Larger than life if you choose. Fuck it. Celebrate you!

This is Her Revolution.
And I’m proud to be living mine, without other’s permission. Only my own.

Shine your light,

~Teri