Long Live the Queen (Part Two)


So how did my Queen arrive?

Modern Queens don’t arrive by carriage it turns out #bummer.

I will say this, it was not graceful. She didn’t just glide on in, all rubies and red carpets. It was most definitely not anything approximating regal.

My queen arrived, of course, at the end of the procession. The procession of a hell of a lot past pain rearing it’s head once more (sooo…not handled after all AC), and so she followed hot on the heels of a period of very intense personal growth. I was absolutely exhausted, why is something so purportedly positive always so damn tiring?

Personal bloody growth. The HURRAH FINALLY moment in this modern world, the thing many of us aspire to, forgetting the realities of it are far from all the modern day gurus taking your money and espousing never ending joy, eternal boundless love and endless wild tantric sex with men that look like one of the Dothraki, as the rewards of “enlightenment”. I haven’t seen much of any of those in a little while…I don’t know about you…and I have been working my ass off.

Let’s get real about this….personal growth never comes cheap or easy does it? By “doesn’t come cheap” what comes to mind is something as bad as an all inclusive package holiday to Bali on Jetstar…it may appear bargain basement in the beginning, but after you include having 5 drunken scooters crashes in the “hotel” driveway, the inevitable post buffet Bali belly where you somehow shit your pants in an 2 star hotel lobby, a Kuta Cowboy stealing your dignity and your wallet, and having to shave your hair off post bad-idea beachside bogan braids, it actually comes at a fairly hefty price. Some might say too expensive. (side note: package holidays for me have all the appeal of a cruise ship. i.e. none)

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Well, this personal growth spurt of mine was just like that package holiday: I got much more than I bargained for, not necessarily in a pleasant way, I absolutely questioned what the fuck I was doing there a million times, and I most definitely tried to leave well ahead of schedule.

Spiritual bypass: we all try it, and most of us have teeth marks on our ass from it. I do. They are copious and enormous. And not the hot kind. The painful to sit down without the fun memories kind.

Let me tell you folks, there is no such thing as a cheap package holiday, just as there is no easy way to discover your truest self. You have to stay the course and trust you can handle whatever is being thrown at you, knowing that it’s going to be lifetime work. Belief and faith is part of the test. The only way is through the fire and all that it brings blah blah blah. Trite yes, but incredibly true.

What emerged from the rubble in the spiritual version of Cyclone Tracy’s wake, was, to no one’s greater surprise than my own, the most powerful expression of my feminine power I have ever experienced: The Queen.

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No one was more shocked at this than me. I had given up on my Queen long ago, in truth I wasn’t even sure I had one anymore, having thought, until right now I suppose, that I was not worthy of having this part of me be present in the world. I was not together enough, thin enough, grounded enough…yadda yadda…to be a Queen.

WRONG. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The appearance of this inner Queen has been the most delicious revelation for me, it feels like being initiated into womanhood once more. Since the first time was probably not one would call a raging success (refer to previous stories of my hot-mess-ness and penchant for spraying the walls with my emotional excess baggage), I am happy to report that this feels much more like a rite of passage tailored specifically for me from within for exactly what I need in this moment to usher me into a new and magnificent stage of my life.

No…I am not high on acid.

But, let me tell you it is intoxicating to discover a part of yourself that is so exceptionally empowering whilst still being gentle, sensual and nurturing.

This is more than a discovering, it’s a remembering, it’s a knowing, perhaps even a relief, to have revealed to me that my power IS my feminine, that I no longer need to default to a warped version of the masculine to be the strong and soft woman I long to be. It was, so incredibly exhausting to spend 20 years fighting off my innate feminine nature.

This Queen within, she is powerful, she is centred, she is wise, she is benevolent, she is generous, and she rules those in her queendom with grace, compassion and elegance (that queendom can be just be me incidentally). She is the woman I see myself becoming.

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Think of modern day “Queens”: Queen Rania of Jordan, Michelle Obama, Beyonce, Oprah, Meryyyyyyyyyl, Helen Mirren, Barbara Walters, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Martha Stewart, Angela Merkel and lets not forget my favourite Judy bloody Dench. All wildly different, polarising, and powerful.

These women command space, you better fucking believe they own the territory they are in. They don’t back down from what they stand for, but are these women are also delightfully feminine in whatever way works for them, they are inspiring, they are often spirited and funny, they are powerful, but they are also…human, relatable, flawed (ahem Martha ;-)). They’re not cold, aloof or removed from the realities of modern day life in the way we traditionally think of Queens.

Your Queen, if anchored into your truest self, is not bitchy, bossy, manly, demanding or mean. She isn’t haughty or entitled and she certainly doesn’t want others to bow at her feet.

This misconception of the qualities that were once required for a woman to be allowed to rule, in any space, be it politically, corporate, social, domestic and many others, no longer hold true. In fact, we have been busy smashing that myth wide open for a little while now.

You do not need to step into some kind of weird warped toxic masculinity to wield your queenly power. Many women think that this is necessary, the old conquer and destroy mentality. I have done it in the past, and many still do it. I speak from a place of knowing when I say these are also women who are afraid, no, petrified, of their Queen. These are women who shun the immense power of their feminine, they are told or have decided it’s “weak” or “unnecessary”, for a myriad of reasons only they know. Take it from a woman who has done this most of her adult life, this is a BAD idea.

In fact, every time I have acted from my Dark Queen, unanchored and inauthentic power may initially feel like a rush, yes, but mainly because it’s like a missile without a guidance system, it could go anywhere, hit anyone and is likely to destroy something you long for. Total and mutual destruction is assured. I know what it feels like, I was this woman for 20 years, professionally, personallly and romantically (sorry to the couple of magnificent men who copped this is the neck).

If you are still her, still the Shadow Queen, seeing everything and everyone as a threat, I see you, and I feel you darling, it’s no fucking picnic is it? Put down your sword my love, there is another way.


The good news is, this is all within your power to change. Find your Queen, I know with all that I am that she is just waiting for you to open the door to explore her. These days, my Queen is generous, gracious, compassionate and humble, she is not the hottest of hot messes she once was. She is a force to be reckoned with, yes, but she is also playful, benevolent and wants only to serve others and humanity with the power she has.

She’s not into telling you what she has or how much influence she has, she wants instead to use this influence for benefitting those in her community, to do her part to elevate humanity. It’s not about her, it’s about us. Us the collective, not us my select little elite mean girls group. There is an enormous shift when you come into service of something worthy.

When I was initially writing this piece, the thing I was most timid about was publicly using the words Queen. Declaring myself a queen seemed gauche, and slightly ridiculous. So I asked some others, “is it just me"?”. Nope, turns out I am not alone in this boat.

Women have a very funny relationship with the word Queen. Before you say what you’re probably thinking “who am I to call myself a Queen?”, let me tell you honey, until you do, no one else will. It’s not just okay to honour your Queen, it’s fucking fabulous. I remember telling my very best friend, the #gayle to my #oprah, that I had found my Queen in a teeny tiny whisper. I felt like such a fraud, “I’m no Queen” I thought as I said it, “who the fuck do I think I am?”.

Just as that little internal voice of doubt had finished her silent sentence, something inside me swelled; it was a feeling, not a thought. It was hot, sharp and unmistakable. It was her. My Inner Queen.

You better believe once your Queen shows up for you, once you call her into your life, you aren’t going to be announcing one of the most important women in your internal life (my Inner Queen), to one of the most important women in your external life (my best friend), by whispering about her like some dirty little secret that you don’t want anyone to overhear lest they think you are bonkers. Oh hell no.

You have to own her with all that you are, and this friends, this is not for the faint of heart. But consider yourself warned: should you take the path of least resistance and fail to claim her when she appears, believe this…she will own you like a prison bitch, and that’s where you go from benevolent beautiful queen to evil ego queen with a quick shake of that newly anointed sceptre.

Words to the wise: Own your Queen. Be your Queen. Speak your Queen. Feel your Queen.

It does not make you an egotist or an asshole to say that you are a Queen, although I will be totally transparent here, I formerly judged the SHIT out of anyone who said it, and I also was absolutely terrified of speaking out loud of the beautiful, radiant, deeply feminine power that lies within me. Speaking her name out loud, was forcing myself to acknowledge that THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM. And that’s some scary shit…

Now though, I celebrate it. Maybe I am not yet at the point of shouting it from every rooftop in my neighbourhood, maybe that’s not my Queen’s style, or maybe she is just warming up, but here it is, laid bare as it can be, I have a power and light that is natural to me.

This is something I was born with to fulfil my purpose here in this life, it’s my greatest ally when used in alignment with my truth, it is something I am now immensely proud of. I now live from this space (most days), understanding that this is who I am meant to be, and I sink into her as fully as a I possibly can, little by little, day by day, ermine robe by…you get what I mean ;-).

I work hard not seek to diminish this light, to make it smaller so others don’t feel threatened, or push it away shamefully into a corner once more silenced by the person she is trying to empower.

I am bravely stepping up to take my place, to claim my space, to occupy my queendom. There is enough room for ALL of us, so my question to you is a simple one, how many of you beautiful Queens are coming with me? For there is work to be done my loves, and we can only do this if we rule together.


Queen Cook



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