A Woman Unto Herself
Reclaiming Body Wisdom Across Generations
My body resembles my paternal grandmother the most. I have her eyes, her hips, and her belly. As time passes, I watch my face soften, becoming more like hers. Recently, I asked my father the questions I never knew to ask her, the woman who seemed oh so private with her personal life.
“She was a hell of a cook,” he said, “but misled with ingredients. She wanted to show love through food, using what she thought was best. Margarine, trans fats—society let her down.”
She used food to express her love, yet struggled with the same societal pressures that haunt so many of us—worrying about weight, about appearances. It was subtle with her, unlike my maternal grandmother, who was more direct about her weight-loss goals, but the culture didn’t miss her.
Nicole Renée at her high school graduation open house with her Grandmother Joyce, 2000
Joyce, my paternal grandmother, was always encouraging me to wear the dress, to "date as many boys as you can," and to live fully. She sunbathed on Myrtle Beach in the winters, returned with ceramic art she’d painted just for us. To this day, I keep an alligator she made on my altar, a reminder of her courage and strength.
A few years ago, I took a pilgrimage to the Everglades, where I sat with real alligators in an attempt to connect with her essence. I sipped key lime milkshakes and drove a Dodge Challenger—living as she’d want for me, a woman independent, self-sufficient, and enjoying life.
Joyce was flirtatious with life, known to dance, to get dolled up, but she did it for herself. Her heart broke when her husband died, and she never dated again. I used to think that was a myth, but my father confirmed it. I now understand how she could choose to live that way—focusing on girlfriends, art, and the sun—after experiencing love lost myself.
Joyce gave me many gifts, including what we now call body positivity. She yearned to feed me, to dress me, and sang life into me with simple songs. One of my few regrets is letting my ideology around food distance me from her cooking. If I could go back, I’d say “Yes, please, Grandma!” and devour her fudge, savoring every bite.
Joyce had the patience to stir peas at the stove until they became a delicacy. When I look in the mirror today, I see her eyes and feel her presence in my Radiant Body.
My grandmother’s story, her connection to her body, and her embrace of life serve as a reminder that our bodies are vessels of wisdom, experience, and radiance. In our modern world, it’s easy to feel disconnected from this deeper sense of body wisdom, to fall prey to societal pressures even if just in our subconcious minds.
This is why I’ve created my Radiant Body 7-week course. It’s designed to help you reconnect with your body, not as something to be fixed, but as something to be cherished, honored, and nourished. Through yoga, somatics, and herbal wisdom, we’ll explore the ways in which we can reclaim our relationship with our bodies—cultivating strength, independence, and radiance from within.
If Joyce’s story resonates with you, and if you long to feel that deep connection to your body—free from the noise of societal expectations—I invite you to join me for this transformative journey.
Sign up now and step into your own Radiant Body.
