From the Other Side of the Glass: Maybe She Isn’t Alpha

Lately, I’ve found myself in one of the most interesting debates.

Several men told me there is no such thing as an alpha female.

I smiled.

Not because I had a rebuttal ready, but because I realized we weren’t really talking about women.

We were talking about perception.

Because I know this woman personally.

I am this woman.

I am the woman who walks into a room and people feel her before she speaks.

The posture.

The presence.

The authority.

The confidence.

The power.

The one who looks like she has everything handled.

The one people assume cannot be shaken.

The one people call strong, intimidating, independent, and hard to approach.

The one they call “alpha.”

But from the other side of the glass, I need to tell the truth.

That woman costs me something.

Every time I hold that space, it costs me something.

It costs me rest.

Because people assume I can keep going.

It costs me softness.

Because softness has not always been safe.

It costs me vulnerability.

Because I have watched my openness become ammunition.

It costs me love.

Because people admire my strength, but not everyone knows how to care for the woman underneath it.

It costs me the freedom to fall apart.

Because when you are the strong one, people do not always know what to do when you finally say, “I’m tired.”

And I am tired.

Not weak.

Not bitter.

Not broken beyond repair.

Just tired of having to be the rescue plan, the prayer warrior, the problem solver, the emotional regulator, the dependable one, the safe place, the backup plan, and the woman who still has to smile while carrying what would have crushed somebody else.

So when people debate whether alpha women exist, I want to ask a different question.

What did she survive that required her to become this powerful?

What did she lose while everyone was praising her strength?

What dreams did she delay?

What needs did she silence?

What version of herself did she bury just to keep standing?

Because maybe she is not trying to dominate anyone.

Maybe she is trying to make sure she is never abandoned without options again.

Maybe she is not hard.

Maybe she is protected.

Maybe she is not difficult.

Maybe she is disciplined because chaos raised her.

Maybe she is not intimidating.

Maybe people are uncomfortable with a woman who no longer apologizes for existing at full volume.

I personally know what it feels like to be respected and still not feel held.

To be admired and still not feel chosen.

To be needed and still not feel nurtured.

To be visible and still feel unseen.

That is the part people miss.

The alpha woman is often not asking to be worshipped.

She is asking to be understood.

She wants someone who can see the crown and still notice the headache.

Someone who can hear the confidence and still detect the tremble.

Someone who can honor her strength without making it the reason they neglect her softness.

Because behind the authority is a woman who still wants tenderness.

Behind the power is a woman who still wants peace.

Behind the independence is a woman who still wants safe partnership.

Behind the “I got it” is often a quiet prayer saying, “God, please send someone who gets me.”

So call her alpha if you want.

Call her strong.

Call her powerful.

Call her intimidating.

Call her too much.

But before you make her a debate topic, ask her what it cost to become the version of herself you now have an opinion about.

Because I promise you, the label is not the whole story.

Sometimes the woman you call alpha is just the woman who had to become her own rescue.

And sometimes, from the other side of the glass, she is not asking to lead the whole room.

She is asking for one safe place where she does not have to.

A.P. Brown

Purposely Stained