4 Things I’ve learned about Women by Feeding Them
I used to think I was just making dinner. A meal. A menu. Something warm and thoughtful to serve.
But over time, I realized that what I was really doing was holding space. And women? They show up fully when they feel safe, nourished, and unhurried.
Feeding women has become one of the most sacred things I do.
Not because of what’s on the plate, but because of what happens around it.
Here are 4 things I’ve learned about Women by feeding them:
Most women are starving for more than food. They’re hungry for presence and quiet. For a place where they don’t have to explain themselves or hold everything together. I’ve watched shoulders drop the moment the table is set and someone else says, “I’ve got this. You just sit.”
When you feed a woman, you remind her she’s allowed to receive. So many of us are wired to care for others. We carry the emotions, the logistics, the invisible weight of everyone else’s needs and it’s easy to forget we’re allowed to be cared for, too. The act of preparing a meal for someone, without asking anything in return says, “You’re worthy of being tended to.”
Women open up when they feel held. Not just by a person, but by a moment. The soft lighting. The simmering soup. The way no one is rushing. Something happens when we gather without pressure. Real conversation bubbles up. Tears feel safe and laughter comes from deeper places. No agenda. No performance. Just presence.
Every woman has a story and sometimes, she doesn’t know it until she starts talking. Food helps breaks the ice and it invites people to linger. And in that lingering, stories come out. Usually ones they didn’t plan to tell and ones that have been aching to be heard.
I’ve learned to stop filling the silence and to let the space do its work and to trust that what needs to rise, will.
These moments have changed me. They’ve made me softer. Braver. and more aware of the sacredness in the simple.
I’m not just a cook.
I’m a connector and a witness and a space holder for women finding their way back to themselves.
So the next time you see me setting a table or stirring something on the stove, know that It’s never just about the food.
It’s about what we remember in each other when we finally slow down and share it.
