No Fake Crown Required: We Carry a Crown the World Never Had the Power to Grant

There are moments when the world doesn’t just shift... it shudders.

You feel it under your feet, like a truth that’s been buried for too long is finally clawing its way back to the surface. And whether people are ready for it or not, something is breaking open right now.

Everywhere I look, women are rising straight out of the ashes (me included) of the silence they were forced to swallow.

They have stopped shrinking to keep the peace. They have stopped sanding down their edges for other people’s comfort. They have stopped dimming their brilliance to protect the insecurities of men who were never built to hold that kind of heat.

Women are reclaiming the space that was always theirs. Not politely. Not gently. Not with permission slips.

But with clarity so sharp it cuts through entire systems. With truth that refuses to bow. With a birthright that cannot be revoked.

And on this day, that rise came from a Mexican woman.

When Fátima Bosch Fernández looked Nawat Itsaragrisil (the president of Miss Grand International organization) dead in the eye, with nothing but presence, fire, and dignity and said, through her actions, I will not be disrespected nor diminished, she wasn’t just standing up for herself.

She was speaking for every woman who ever choked on her own voice. For every daughter raised to stay quiet. For every ancestor who had to bend until her spine cracked.

She tore through the shiny veneer these pageants hide behind. She exposed the truth so many (including myself) have known: that beneath the glitter and the speeches and the staged empowerment is an industry that has always profited from carving women down into bite-sized pieces.

They crowned women for their symmetry and punished them for their soul. But I believe that era is dying... loudly.

No more thrones built from insecurity.

No more crowns awarded for compliance.

No more applause given only to women who stay obedient.

Women don’t need these systems to shine. We are the light source.

And when I watched a video of her stand in that sovereign fire, something old and wild inside me snapped awake. Something that had been quiet, watching, sharpening itself in the dark corners of my becoming.

Because the truth is, for five long years, I’ve been dismantling the architecture of my own silence.

Brick by brick.

Room by room.

Lie by lie.

I learning to pull myself out of every space that taught me to shrink, to whisper, to apologize for the size of my fire. So when she stood her ground, it didn’t just inspire me, it confirmed me. It mirrored the woman I have fought to reclaim. It reminded me that sovereignty is not something we earn. It’s something we remember.

And in that moment, sitting down to write the chorus of this new song Step Into the Flame didn’t feel like songwriting anymore. It felt like prophecy. It felt like oath. It felt like my entire spine saying,

Stand up.

"I’m stepping into the flame, into my power, No more whispering through my own towers. I’m the spark, I’m the storm, I’m the runaway light, Unbreakable bones made from star-forged nights.

I’m stepping into the flame, let the world see The strongest version that lives in me. This is my rise, my reckoning hour, I’m stepping into the flame, into my power."

This is bigger than a song. Bigger than a moment. This is a manifesto. And you know me, I had to make it a song!

A vow that I will never again make myself small so others can feel big. A vow that I will not contort myself to fit rooms that were never built for me. A vow that I will never apologize for the volume of my flame.

This is for every woman made to feel like too much. For every woman told to be less. For every woman coerced into silence.

We are not the decoration.

We are not the showpiece.

We are not the prize up for judgment.

We are the force.

We are the rupture.

We are the fire that burns entire empires down to their truth.

This is not a new chapter of feminine power, this is the rise of feminine sovereignty.

The kind that cannot be judged, bought, ranked, measured, crowned, or contained. The kind that comes from remembering exactly who we were before the world taught us to forget.

Women like Fátima Bosch Fernández…

Women like us…

We aren’t waiting for a seat at the table. We’re building our own damn architecture.

And when we rise, we rise like wildfire... together.

🔥🇲🇽✨

Step Into The Flame

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