To help women reclaim their sensual nourishment & embodied freedom by reconnecting them to their body voice & feminine wisdom.
I’m just gonna come out and say it already…
I’m a motherf***in’ hippie.
I don’t know why I’ve been resisting it for so long.
I mean, I believe in free love. Like open, infinite, enough-to-go-ten-times-around-the-world love. My favorite place on earth right now is Ubud, Bali. My second favorite place on earth is Burning Man. If I had the choice, I’d wear flower crowns and gold tattoos A LOT. Wait, I do wear flower crowns and gold tattoos a lot.
I’m a motherfuckin’ hippie.
I used to sell alternative menstrual products at Mcgill University’s women’s union when I was 19. Most of my job is about leading women back home into their bodies, into their feminine wisdom, into their strength. I believe that the paradigm “the feminine is unsafe” no longer serves humanity.
I’m a motherfuckin’ feminist.
I started the Lebanese chapter of Jane Goodall’s environmental organization at my highschool at 15. And I led students through the streets of Beirut in a march against sectarianism. I believe in justice and using our voice to change shit.
I’m a motherfuckin’ activist.
So then I ask myself. Why do I resist these labels so much?
I think it’s because I sometimes don’t realize I’m buying into a myth, a belief … that I cannot wear flower crowns and a leather jacket. That I cannot fight for women’s rights while listening to Lil’ Wayne. That I cannot speak for the voiceless when I, too, sometimes feel voiceless. That just because I believe in radical love and yoga and green juice doesn’t mean I’ll ever grow out my pits and ban showers. Or only listen to Loreena Mckennitt. And there’s nothing wrong with those choices. I may have a Loreena Mckennitt album somewhere in my iTunes. So then why does it worry me so much to be labeled any of these?
When I sit with it, I think it’s because I don’t want to be reduced to a stereotype or be put in a box or dismissed into a category.
“Oh that’s the card-reading new agey girl”
or “That’s the angry feminist” (ß Is this really still a thing? I guess it must be if I’m triggered by it, yeah?)
or “The preaching, rigid, adrenaline-junkie activist.”
I am Nadia. I love me a pair of hot as shit heels as much as I love walking barefoot. I love dirty, filthy, misogynistic hip hop as much as I love fuckin Enigma. There I said it. I love chanting at a cacao ceremony and working with a priestess as much as I love drinking tequila and dancing to dark techhouse. I love watching The Kardashians as much as I love devouring a Milan Kundera novel. I love New York as much as I love Bali. I am Nadia and I am me.
So enough is enough.
From here on out I pledge to be fully, wholly, 100% me. All parts of me.
The OCD and the messy, the nurturing and the needy, the fashionista and the nudist, the pole-dancer and the healer.
I so want to hear from you, gorgeous.
What do you wanna come out and pledge?
And if you’re interested in diving deeper into the different parts of you, join me on my FREE webinar, Your Pleasure Potential: Learn 3 NEW ways to tap into your Full Feminine Power.