HeyJaredSiren Sermons
I am taking back the pulpit — but this time, it’s drenched in honey and blood, not control and shame.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 6
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- Aug 9, 2026
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- Jul 7, 2026
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The Siren Is the Woman They Warned You About (opens the original)
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She’s not evil, she just cannot be governed through shame.That sentence deserves to sit alone for a moment. A whole architecture, built across scripture and slavery and sanctuaries and diet plans and delivery rooms, was never actually designed to make women good. It was designed to make women governable, and shame was always the mechanism. You cannot shame a woman who has stopped believing her body is the problem. And a woman who cannot be shamed is a woman an entire system suddenly has no lever
The Church Didn't Just Teach Purity. It Taught Performance. (opens the original)
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Nobody ever called it acting. That would have required admitting there was a script.But there was a script, and every girl in the room learned her lines early. Smile, even when something in you wants to frown. Submit, and call the submission peace. Labor, quietly, constantly, and call the labor service. Stay silent when silence costs you something, and call the silence grace. Please everyone in the room before you please yourself, and call the pleasing love. And underneath all of it, the hardest
The Good Girl Economy (opens the original)
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There is a version of a woman that the market prefers.She does not say no, or she says it so rarely that when she finally does, everyone around her acts personally betrayed. She does not ask for the raise, because asking requires believing she is owed something, and she was raised to believe gratitude is safer than belief. She overworks. She overgives. She apologizes for things that were never her fault, apologizes for taking up a chair, apologizes for the tone of a text message, apologizes, som
They Never Took Your Power. They Just Made You Afraid of It. (opens the original)
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There is a power that does not announce itself.It does not kick down doors. It does not raise its voice in rooms built to swallow it whole. It arrives the way morning arrives. It does not ask permission. It is simply there, and everything that was dark before must now reckon with light.You have felt it. Don’t pretend you haven’t.A woman enters a room and the room rearranges itself around her, the way water makes space for a stone. Another woman holds a frightened child and the child, without bei
It Becomes Your Turn When You Stop Asking for Permission (opens the original)
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There is a particular grief I have witnessed in women.It rarely announces itself loudly.It slips out in conversations after midnight. In journals no one else will read. In the tears that come after another wedding invitation, another promotion someone else received, another engagement announcement, another relationship that almost happened.It asks one quiet question.When is it going to be my turn?Not for scraps.Not for survival.For love.For abundance.For ease.For someone to finally choose her.I
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