There is a story sold to us from the beginning: the little girl standing on her father’s shoes to learn her first dance steps. He is her first guide, her first protector, her first image of love. He teaches her how to carry herself, how to dress, how to eat, how to think. His hands steady her steps; his voice names her world.

But there is a fracture hidden inside this story. Because one day, she grows.. and the very same man who shaped her begins to disdain her. The smile that once called her “princess” now twists into criticism. The warmth of protection curdles into rejection. The father’s gaze falters, not because she is less, but because she is more: she is becoming herself, beyond the smallness of his imagination.

The Inheritance of Rejection

Psychologists speak of this rupture as a formative wound. A daughter raised under the weight of a father’s ideals often internalizes rejection when she no longer reflects his fantasy. Studies on father–daughter relationships show that inconsistent paternal approval contributes to lifelong struggles with self-worth, intimacy, and trust (Amato, 1994; Lamb, 2010). Rejected daughters often carry this wound in their eyes, their posture, their soul.

And yet, beneath that wound lies fire. Because when she sees clearly, she recognizes the absurdity of the fantasy she was forced into. She realizes what her father called “teaching” was often projection: his own fears, his own ego, his own fragile need to mold something stronger than himself.

The Myth of Protection

Men love to imagine themselves as protectors. But what exactly do they protect? Their ideologies. Their sense of control. Their version of purity and femininity, which they want untouched, until they themselves reject it. Even the protective father, tender in his intentions, is still a man shaped by patriarchy. His “care” is often about guarding his own creation, not honoring his daughter’s autonomy.

And the cruel irony: the wife he loves was once another man’s daughter. The cycle repeats, daughters and wives alike folded into ideologies of possession and protection. Sons are raised in this system not to cherish, but to conquer; not to honor, but to betray.

Weakness Disguised as Strength

Men like to think of themselves as Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. But look deeper, and their power is often revealed as weakness. Their obsession with access… to innocence, to energy, to youth, to beauty… betrays their dependency. They need what women are. Women do not need what men are.

As Adrienne Rich wrote: “The most important thing one woman can do for another is to illuminate and expand her sense of actual possibilities.” The same is true within ourselves: the most important thing a woman can do is see through the illusion, reclaim what was projected onto her, and return to her own essence.

Evidence in the Body

Science now affirms what mystics have long said: trauma writes itself into the body. Rejection alters neurochemistry, reshaping how we perceive love and safety (van der Kolk, 2014). Daughters of rejection often hold vigilance in their nervous systems, mistrust in their cells. Yet neuroplasticity shows us that this imprint is not destiny. Healing—through therapy, art, ritual, community, rewires the story.

My Witness

I know this story intimately. I carry both the kiss of protection and the scar of rejection. I have seen how men want access to my energy, my innocence, my love, and how easily they squander it, betray it, or attempt to cage it. Yet I also know the truth: I am not their creation. I am eternal. I am source-born.

Even when I played the role of the dutiful daughter, or the cherished lover, beneath it I always carried something larger: the fire of Sekhmet, the balance of Ma’at, the remembering that women are the true power. We are not made by them; they are sustained by us.

Toward Velvet Horizons

The fantasy of the father is crumbling. And in its place rises something more dangerous, more beautiful: women who know themselves. Women who see the weakness disguised as strength. Women who reject rejection, who transform anger into clarity, and clarity into freedom.

Let us stop dancing on men’s shoes. Let us step onto the earth with our own feet, carrying both the wound and the wisdom. For it was never their gaze that made us radiant. It was always our own.

📚 References

• Amato, P. R. (1994). Father–child relations, mother–child relations, and offspring psychological well-being. Journal of Marriage and Family, 56(4), 1031–1042.
• Lamb, M. E. (2010). The Role of the Father in Child Development. Wiley.
• van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. Viking.