Welcome to Playing Her Part—the first part of a special series on The Wisdom Path Podcast and Substack, where we reclaim the stories of mythic women, explore ways we can embody their archetypes, and go on a journey into how their energy can inspire creativity, transformation, and personal power.
I’m Rosie Peacock, your host, and in this series, we step into the stories of powerful, complex, and often misunderstood women from myth, legend, and history. But this isn’t just about storytelling—it’s about embodiment.
Through each episode, we will:
Reclaim their myths—challenging how they’ve been told and distorted over time.
Explore their archetypal energy—why these figures still speak to us today.
Engage in creative expression—photography, ritual, and artistic direction that bring them to life.
Because these women - Lilith, Persephone, Hecate - aren’t just figures from the past. They live in us, as forces of transformation, creation, and power.
So if you’re drawn to the idea of embodying myth, stepping into archetypes, and using story as a tool for self-expression and personal power, then you are in the right place.
Something you may not know about me, is that I have been a performer for as long as I can remember. From an early age, I took after school acting classes, drawn to the magic of stepping into someone else’s skin, embodying another’s story. It felt like more than just play - it felt like a way to access something deeper, to tap into the multifaceted, infinite nature of who we truly are.
As I grew, this fascination with performance, embodiment, and transformation only expanded. At 16, I played Medea, stepping into the raw power of a woman whose story had been twisted, whose rage had been weaponised. At university, I studied Writing, Directing, and Performance, learning the craft of storytelling and the alchemy of stepping into roles. During my second degree, I wrote poetry as women in dramatic monologue styles, channeling their voices, rewriting their narratives.
Over time, my work evolved beyond the stage. My exploration of psychedelics, embodiment, alter egos, and branding all led me back to the same truth: we are always playing parts—choosing who we become, shaping our identities through story, symbol, and archetype.
That’s why I created Playing Her Part—because these mythic women live within us, waiting to be embodied, explored, and reclaimed.
This series is an invitation to step into archetypal energy as a tool for transformation—whether that’s through art, performance, photography, branding, or personal expression. Because mythology isn’t just something we read about—it’s something we become.
This is Playing Her Part - where mythology makes art. Let’s start.
1. Introduction – Why Lilith? Why Now?
Lilith is the first exile, the first rebellion, the first woman who refused. Her name has been whispered in fear, cast as a warning, turned into a symbol of darkness, yet beneath the layers of demonisation, she remains one of the most potent archetypes of self-sovereignty, untamed feminine power, and unshackled desire. She is the woman who refused to submit—who chose exile over subjugation, power over obedience, self-sovereignty over belonging. Her story has echoed through time, often distorted, and misunderstood. But beneath the layers of fear and condemnation, Lilith remains a symbol of unbridled feminine power, of a woman who refuses to be made small.
I chose Lilith as the first instalment of Playing Her Part because she is the woman who will not be owned. She is the one who says no.
In myth, she was the first wife of Adam, created from the same earth, equal in essence and form. But when Adam demanded she submit, she refused. When he told her to lie beneath him, she said, “I will not.” And when God himself sided with Adam, she did not beg for forgiveness—she left.
For that choice, she was vilified. Rewritten as a demon, a devourer of men, a thief of children, a dark seductress. This is what happens to women who will not be controlled. They are cast out and then recast as something monstrous.
2. Why Now?
Lilith’s story may be ancient, but her exile is not a thing of the past. Women are still punished for saying no. We are still branded as difficult, ungrateful, or even dangerous when we refuse to comply with what is expected of us. The myth of Lilith is the myth of every woman who has been cast out, silenced, or vilified simply for choosing herself.
Because women are still being punished for saying no.
Because we are still told that love requires surrender.
Because our culture still insists that safety is found in obedience.
Because “goodness” is still measured in compliance.
Because women are still being punished for saying no.
Saying no—to a relationship, to expectations, to roles we never consented to—is still treated as an act of defiance rather than self-autonomy.
• When a woman leaves an abusive or unfulfilling relationship, she is often blamed. Society asks why she didn’t try harder, why she didn’t stay and fix him, why she wasn’t more patient, more loving, more forgiving. When men leave, they are reclaiming their independence. When women leave, they are selfish.
• When a woman says no to motherhood, she is seen as unnatural. The choice not to have children is still met with confusion, disapproval, and judgment. “You’ll change your mind,” they say. “You’ll regret it.” But what if she doesn’t?
• When a woman enforces boundaries, she is called cold, cruel, or a b*tch. How often are women expected to accommodate, nurture, and absorb discomfort to keep the peace? When we refuse to do so, we are seen as aggressive instead of self-respecting.
To say no is to risk losing belonging. Lilith knew this. She chose exile rather than obedience. How many women today are still forced to make that same choice?
Because we are still told that love requires surrender.
From childhood, women are fed a narrative that love is something we must earn through sacrifice.
• We are taught that the best women are the most selfless. The perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect partner—she gives everything and asks for nothing in return. She stays even when she is unhappy. She forgives even when she is mistreated. She is told that true love is unconditional, even if it comes at the cost of herself.
• We are conditioned to believe that devotion is proven through endurance. The idea of “ride or die” relationships still permeates culture—this notion that the ultimate proof of love is staying through anything, even if that means betraying yourself. Women are encouraged to be chosen, not to do the choosing.
• Even in progressive spaces, the language around feminine energy is often about receptivity and surrender. “The feminine blooms in the presence of the right man.” “A woman will only surrender to a man who makes her feel safe.” These phrases seem empowering but still frame feminine fulfillment as dependent on male action. Lilith’s story reminds us that we do not have to surrender to be loved.
Because our culture still insists that safety is found in obedience.
Women are often told that if we just follow the rules, we will be safe. But whose rules? And at what cost?
• Dress modestly, and you won’t be harassed. But women who cover up are still assaulted.
• Stay polite, and you won’t be attacked. But women who are agreeable are still belittled.
• Don’t walk alone at night. But women are harmed in their own homes, by men they know.
• Be soft, be kind, be accommodating. But this does not stop us from being mistreated.
Obedience does not guarantee safety. It never has. The more we comply with the systems that oppress us, the more they demand. Lilith teaches us that safety is not found in submission—it is found in self-sovereignty.
Because “goodness” is still measured in compliance.
A “good woman” is still defined by what she accepts, not by what she chooses.
• A “good” daughter is obedient, not outspoken. She does not challenge her parents, even when they impose harmful beliefs upon her.
• A “good” wife is devoted, even when devotion becomes martyrdom. She is praised for her patience, for how much she can endure.
• A “good” woman is likeable, even when likability demands self-abandonment. Women who take up space, demand more, or challenge authority are seen as difficult, even when they are right.
Lilith was not a “good woman” by these standards. And that is why she was demonised.
But what if goodness is not the goal?
What if sovereignty is?
What if choosing yourself is not selfish, but sacred?
Lilith does not ask us to be good. She asks us to be free.
To embody Lilith is to stand in radical self-ownership - to claim your space, your voice, your desire, without permission. It is to reclaim the parts of yourself that were exiled - the ones labeled too much, too wild, too difficult, too free.
For me, Lilith represents the part of myself that does not wait to be chosen. The part that knows she is whole without approval. The part that is not afraid to walk alone.
I invite you to walk beyond the gates of Eden, into the wilderness, into the unknown, into the place where exile becomes freedom.
Lilith does not ask for permission.
She does not bow.
She does not belong to anyone but herself.
And perhaps, neither do you.
My Personal Connection to Lilith
I have always been drawn to women who were cast out, rewritten, or demonised—the ones whose power was seen as dangerous, whose refusal to comply made them a threat. Lilith is the ultimate symbol of that exile, the woman who would not submit, the woman who walked away.
From a young age, I found myself exploring female characters who defied expectation - in acting, in writing, in performance. I played Medea at sixteen, a woman whose rage made her monstrous. I wrote dramatic monologues as women who had been silenced. I studied myth and storytelling, seeing the patterns of how powerful women were either tamed, erased, or turned into warnings.
Lilith’s story speaks to every woman who has ever been punished for wanting more. More autonomy. More sovereignty. More than what was offered to her. She represents the part of me that has always questioned, that has always resisted being placed in a box, that has always wondered:
What happens when we stop asking for permission?
Lilith is the woman who said no. And for that, she was turned into a monster.
I chose her as the first archetype in Playing Her Part because I feel that tension in my own life - between the desire to belong and the desire to be fully, wildly, unapologetically free.
Lilith reminds me that there is power in walking away. That we do not need to make ourselves small to be loved. That sometimes, exile is a portal to something greater.
Lilith’s Choice (Reclaiming the Myth – The Story Retold)
Before the rib, before the fall, before the sin that rewrote the world, there was Lilith.
She was not an afterthought.
Not carved from the bone of a man.
Not made to be soft, to be small, to be second.
Lilith and Adam were shaped from the same earth, formed by the same hands, filled with the same breath. When she woke in the Garden, she did not wake beneath him—she woke beside him.
For a time, they walked together. Two beings of equal birth, equal claim, equal voice. But equality is not the same as power. And Adam wanted more than love—he wanted obedience.
One night, beneath the pale glow of Eden’s moon, he turned to her and said, “Lie beneath me.”
Lilith looked at him. “Why?”
Adam’s brow furrowed. “Because I am your husband.”
Lilith tilted her head. “And?”
His voice hardened. “Because I was made to rule over you.”
She did not cower. She did not yield. “We were made from the same earth. Why should I bow?”
Silence.
Something cold passed between them, an unspoken thing neither yet had words for: this would not be forgiven.
Lilith saw it in his eyes—the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of frustration, the disbelief.
She could not stay. Not if staying meant becoming something smaller than what she was.
So she left.
She did not argue.
She did not beg.
She did not rage.
She rose to her feet, turned her back on the Garden, and walked into the night.
She stepped beyond the gates, into the wilderness, into the unknown, into a world where she belonged to no one but herself.
The Garden was quiet without her. But not for long.
Adam sat beneath the Tree of Life, arms crossed, jaw set. He would not go after her—he would not give her that power. But he would not be alone, either.
So, a new woman was made.
This time, she would not rise from the earth—she would rise from him. This time, she would not be formed as an equal—she would be formed to serve.
This time, she would be Eve.
She was gentle where Lilith had been wild. Soft where Lilith had been sharp. Yielding where Lilith had stood unshaken. She would not leave.
Lilith had been forgotten. Or so they thought.
But stories have their own way of surviving.
Even as Eve took her place beside Adam, Lilith’s name was still whispered in the dark places, carried on the breath of night winds, rippling through the edges of the world.
She did not disappear—so they turned her into something else.
She became a shadow, a warning, a creature with too many names.
They said she was a demon, lurking in the night to steal children from their cradles.
They said she was a temptress, a woman whose beauty lured men to ruin.
They said she was a serpent, slithering through the grass to bring downfall and sin.
They said she was dangerous.
But it was never Lilith that was dangerous—it was the idea of her.
A woman who leaves instead of pleads.
A woman who chooses herself over belonging.
A woman who asks for nothing but her own freedom.
The story had changed, but the fear remained. Because what if another woman left?
What if another woman saw herself in Lilith’s footprints and stepped beyond the gates?
What if obedience was not the only path?
What if exile was not a punishment, but a beginning?
Even now, her name lingers, spoken in half-whispers, cast in shadows.
They still try to make her a monster.
But Lilith was never a demon.
Lilith was the first woman who walked away.
And maybe, just maybe,
we were meant to follow.
How Lilith Has Been Distorted, Erased, and Demonized
Lilith was not evil—she was inconvenient. She disrupted the narrative of feminine submission. She refused the role assigned to her. And for that, she was vilified.
Her story echoes across cultures and time, in every woman who has been labeled:
🔥 Too much – Too ambitious, too opinionated, too unwilling to shrink.
🔥 Too sexual – Women whose desire exists for themselves, not for male pleasure.
🔥 Too rebellious – Women who leave marriages, question authority, demand sovereignty.
Lilith is every woman who has ever been called a witch, a whore, a problem to be solved. She is every woman who has chosen herself and been cast out because of it.
What Lilith Symbolizes in a Modern Context
Today, Lilith represents:
🔥 Radical self-sovereignty – The courage to walk away from what does not honor you.
🔥 Reclaimed power – No longer apologizing for taking up space, for wanting more, for refusing to be controlled.
🔥 The untamed feminine – Sensuality without shame, rage without repression, freedom without permission.
🔥 The woman who stops asking for approval – And creates a new story instead.
Lilith is not a monster. She is a mirror.
A mirror for every woman who has ever been told to be quiet.
A mirror for every person who has ever feared their own power.
A mirror for the choice we all must face:
Shrink to fit, or step into the unknown?
Lilith chose exile over submission.
Maybe we should too.
Poetic Invocation: “Lilith Speaks”
(Transition into the poem as a first-person reclaiming of her voice.)
For centuries, Lilith has been spoken of, but never allowed to speak.
She has been rewritten, reshaped, buried beneath fear and distortion.
A warning. A whisper. A shadow at the edges of the firelight.
But what if she was not a monster?
What if she was not a curse?
What if she was simply a woman who refused?
Tonight, Lilith does not sit in silence.
Tonight, she takes back her voice.
This is Lilith, speaking for herself.
Lilith Speaks
I was here before her.
Before the rib, before the fall, before the story
was rewritten in a man’s mouth.
Before they twisted my name into a warning,
spat it like a curse.
I was earth and breath and fire,
shaped from the same dust as him.
A twin, not a servant.
A woman, not a wound.
Lie beneath me, he said.
As if the sky bows to the dirt,
as if the river slows for the rock,
as if I was made for anything
but my own untamed becoming.
No.
That word
hung between us, thick as storm air,
ripe as something waiting to break.
He called for God,
but I was already leaving.
I did not ask for permission.
I did not beg to be loved.
I did not kneel.
Instead, I stepped beyond the gates,
bare feet on the wild earth,
each blade of grass a hymn to my unshackling.
And oh, how they could not bear it.
A woman who does not beg?
A woman who does not fear exile?
A woman who does not return?
They took my name and split it open,
pulled it apart like carrion.
Called me demon, because I did not obey.
Called me temptress, because I did not submit.
Called me child-killer, because I would not bear his sons.
They needed me monstrous.
Needed me dark, needed me wicked,
needed me to haunt the edges of their firelight,
so their daughters would be too afraid to follow.
But I am not their shadow.
I am the whole, bright moon.
And even now, they speak of me in whispers,
in shudders, in warnings to wives.
As if I am a thing to be feared,
and not a name to be reclaimed.
I was here before her.
Before the rib, before the fall, before the story.
And I will be here
long after.
For so long, we’ve been told that Lilith was dangerous—demonic even. Not just because she refused Adam, but because she became something more. A shadow, a seductress, a woman too wild to be contained. But when we look deeper, we start to see a pattern. Lilith wasn’t feared because she was evil—she was feared because she was free.
And nothing has terrified the patriarchy more than a woman who does not ask for permission.
So let’s break it down: Why was Lilith turned into a hypersexualised figure? Where did that fear come from? And what does it still mean for us today?”
Lilith’s association with sexuality doesn’t explicitly appear in the earliest versions of her myth, but rather evolved over time due to the way patriarchal societies have historically demonised female autonomy and desire. Here’s how her transformation into a hyper-sexualised figure happened:
1. The Root of Her Sexualisation: A Woman Who Controls Her Own Body
In the original Jewish texts, Lilith refuses to lie beneath Adam, asserting herself as his equal. This rejection of sexual submission was enough to brand her as dangerous. In a patriarchal framework, a woman who does not yield to a man’s authority—especially in intimacy—is seen as defiant, unnatural, even monstrous.
In other words: A woman who chooses herself over a man is a threat.
Because she rejected Adam, she became associated with ungovernable female desire—not just her own, but the idea that she could corrupt men by leading them into temptation.
2. Lilith in the Talmud: Demonisation & Desire
By the time Lilith appears in Talmudic writings, her story has changed drastically:
• She is no longer just a woman who left Adam—she is now a seductress and a demon.
• She is said to target men at night, engaging in sexual acts with them in their sleep (leading to the myth of Lilith as the mother of succubi, night-demons who drain men through seduction).
• Some versions claim she steals semen from men to create demonic offspring—a way of framing female pleasure as inherently corruptive.
At this stage, her autonomy becomes inseparable from her sexuality. She is dangerous because she is uncontrolled.
3. Lilith as the “Other” Woman: The Whore to Eve’s Madonna
As Christianity spread, Lilith’s myth deepened the divide between the “pure” and the “fallen” woman.
• Eve became the model of the “good” woman—passive, obedient, designed for motherhood and duty.
• Lilith became the opposite—the wild, sexual, untamed woman who refused to conform.
This Madonna-Whore Complex has followed women for centuries:
If you are sexually autonomous, you are sinful.
If you are independent, you are dangerous.
If you refuse to be owned, you will be demonised.
Lilith, by her very nature, disrupts the narrative of women existing for male pleasure, for male control, for male-defined morality.
4. Lilith in Later Folklore & the Middle Ages: The Fear of Female Lust
During medieval times, Lilith’s image took on an even darker tone:
• She was depicted as a temptress with long flowing hair, sometimes naked or with wings.
• She was said to seduce men in their sleep—a way of explaining nocturnal emissions and sinful thoughts.
• Stories warned that women who embraced their sexuality could become like Lilith—demonic, untouchable, beyond redemption.
By this point, Lilith was no longer just a woman—she was a force of uncontrolled feminine power.
And in a society built on controlling women, the idea of a woman who desires for herself, who takes without permission, who does not ask to be chosen—was terrifying.
5. What This Means Today: Reclaiming Lilith’s Sexuality
Lilith’s story reminds us that a woman’s autonomy—over her body, her choices, her pleasure—has always been framed as dangerous.
But perhaps the real danger is not in her sexuality, but in her sovereignty
She does not need to be saved.
She does not ask for approval.
She does not make herself small for comfort.
Lilith’s sexuality is not about seduction—it’s about power, self-ownership, and the refusal to be defined by anyone but herself.
That is why she was feared.
That is why she was rewritten.
And that is why we must reclaim her now.
Embodiment: Bringing Lilith into Creative & Personal Work
“It’s one thing to understand Lilith as a story, as an archetype. It’s another to let her energy move through you, to feel her fire in your own life, in your own creative expression. Lilith is not just a myth—she is a way of being. A way of reclaiming what has been denied, of stepping into the wilderness and finding power in the unknown.”
So what does it mean to embody Lilith?
How do we take her from legend and let her live within us, shaping our art, our choices, our voice?
1. Lilith in Branding & Creative Expression
If you are an artist, a creator, an entrepreneur—how much of yourself are you still holding back?
How often do you soften your edges to be more palatable, more acceptable, more “marketable”?
Lilith energy in branding and creative work means:
Refusing to dilute your message to make others comfortable.
Owning your voice unapologetically - whether through bold visuals, unfiltered storytelling, or radical authenticity.
Releasing the fear of rejection - because you are not here to be chosen. You are here to be free.
Lilith is the woman who left the garden. She did not wait to be invited.
How can you show up in your work with that same fire?
How can you create from a place of power, rather than permission?
2. Lilith in Photography & Self-Image
Photography is an act of witnessing, capturing, revealing.
To embody Lilith through imagery is to step into the gaze of your own power—not to be seen through the lens of another, but to claim yourself fully.
How would you pose if you weren’t trying to please anyone?
What would you wear if you weren’t worried about being ‘too much’?
How would you move if you trusted your body as sacred, as sovereign?
Lilith is sensual, but not for the sake of seduction. She is not an object - she is a force.
If you are a photographer, a model, a visual artist—how can you create images that reclaim what has been erased? That capture the untamed, the wild, the unbroken?
Perhaps your next self-portrait, your next photoshoot, your next artistic vision is a Lilith moment waiting to happen.
3. Lilith in Life: The Everyday Acts of Reclamation
Lilith’s story is grand, mythic, cosmic. But embodying her doesn’t require exile—it just requires choice.
Lilith energy looks like:
Saying no without explaining yourself.
Leaving what no longer honours you—even when staying would be easier.
Allowing yourself to be misunderstood, rather than shrinking to fit.
Taking up space—physically, emotionally, artistically—without apology.
Where in your life have you been told to make yourself smaller?
Where have you been taught that power and pleasure are dangerous?
Where have you silenced yourself to stay inside the Garden?
Maybe it’s time to stop waiting.
Maybe it’s time to step into the unknown.
Maybe it’s time to find out who you are when you are only answering to yourself.
Call to Reclamation: Your Lilith Moment
Lilith was not given freedom. She took it.
She did not ask for permission. She did not wait for approval.
She walked away, and she became something more.
So here’s your invitation:
Where in your life can you embody Lilith?
Can you write something raw, something real, something that does not seek to please?
Can you create something that is fully, wildly yours—without worrying how it will be received?
Can you say no, set a boundary, take up space in a way that scares you?
Lilith does not beg.
Lilith does not bow.
Lilith does not belong to anyone but herself.
What would it mean to do the same?
Creative Direction & Visual Symbolism for Lilith
Lilith is an energy, a force, a reclamation. When bringing her into photography, art, creative work, or visual storytelling, the goal isn’t just to depict her—it’s to invoke her essence.
So how do we photograph the woman who left the Garden and never looked back?
1. Colour Palette: The Tones of Rebellion
Lilith is a creature of contrast—light and shadow, flesh and flame, earth and sky. Her palette reflects this duality:
Deep black – The night, the void, the exile.
Blood red – Passion, defiance, sovereignty.
Dark gold or bronze – Power, ancient feminine wisdom.
Earthy browns & deep purples – The untamed, the sacred wild.
These tones can be woven into wardrobe, backdrops, or lighting choices—whether through rich velvet fabrics, deep shadow play, or fiery golden hour light.
2. Symbols & Iconography: The Language of the Untamed
Lilith’s story is one of reclamation and distortion. She was rewritten as a demon, feared as a seductress, turned into a shadow—so we reclaim the very symbols used against her.
The Serpent – Wisdom, temptation, defiance (ironically, sometimes confused with Eve, but deeply Lilith-coded).
The Wilderness – Dry earth, tangled roots, overgrown ruins—Lilith belongs to the spaces where nature takes over.
Night Creatures – Owls, bats, ravens—symbols of the unseen, the silent watchers, the ones who move freely in darkness.
The Pomegranate – A fruit of knowledge, desire, and feminine power, linking Lilith and Persephone as underworld queens.
Flame & Ash – The destruction of old narratives, the rebirth from exile.
How might these symbols appear in an image?
A woman standing barefoot in the wilderness, her body half-shadowed, her gaze unbroken.
Hands gripping a pomegranate, juice running like blood down her wrist.
A muse wrapped in sheer black fabric, the suggestion of wings behind her.
A single candle illuminating her face—light and dark in equal measure.
3. Reclaiming the Earth: Mud, Soil & the Body
Lilith was not made from a rib—she was made from earth. The same raw, ancient matter as Adam. And yet, he claimed dominion over her.
But what happens when she takes the earth back?
What happens when she presses her hands into the soil, digs her fingers into the mud, and remembers what she is made of?
Mud as Reclamation
For so long, women have been told to be clean, soft, untouched. To be pure.
But Lilith was never meant to be pristine—she was meant to be powerful.
What if the dirt isn’t something to wash away, but something to embrace?
Hands dragging through the mud – Not in shame, but in sovereignty.
Smearing earth onto her skin – A return, not a fall.
Pressing her palms into the soil – Feeling its weight, its strength, its primal force.
Coating her body in dust – Not to disappear, but to become something raw, unfiltered, and whole.
This is not degradation.
This is remembrance.
Lilith is the first woman who belonged to herself—who left what did not honor her and walked into the wilderness. She does not fear the earth. She becomes it.
Kneeling in the mud, smearing it across her collarbones – Reclaiming her body as her own.
Hands buried in the dirt, lifting handfuls of earth to the sky – As if calling something ancient back to her.
Lying on the ground, arms stretched wide, completely covered in soil – No longer asking to be “pure,” no longer seeking redemption. She is whole as she is.
A streak of mud across her lips – A refusal to stay clean, quiet, or contained.
The garden was never hers.
But the wild earth always was.
What would it feel like to touch the soil and claim it as yours?
To drag your fingers through the earth and not apologise?
To cover yourself in the dust you were made from—and know that you are not broken, but reborn?
4. Styling & Costumes: Dressing the First Rebel
Lilith is raw power - her styling should reflect that. There is no need for excessive adornment - she was not a queen in gold or a saint in white. She was wild. She was herself, ungoverned.
What might she wear?
Bare skin & undone fabrics – Softness with an edge, like sheer black veils, open silhouettes, or loosely draped cloth that feels untamed, unrestricted.
Dark lace, velvet, or raw textures – The feel of something ancient, something forgotten, something returned.
Serpent jewellery or tattoos – Markings of wisdom, rebellion, transformation.
Natural elements – Twigs in the hair, bare feet, smudged kohl around the eyes—a woman who walks with the wild, not against it.
Alternative Approach:
If Lilith were reimagined in modern fashion, how would she dress? Perhaps…
A black power suit with nothing underneath—feminine but untamed.
A blood-red dress in an empty field—contrast between the exile and the power.
A sheer bodysuit with metallic gold tattoos—a goddess of defiance.
She is never ornamental. She is always in control of how she is seen.
5. Posing & Expression: The Gaze of a Woman Who Does Not Ask
Photographing Lilith means capturing a woman who does not shrink, who does not ask, who does not explain.
How does Lilith hold herself?
She meets the camera head-on—no downward glances, no demure softness.
She moves with intention—not stiff, but deliberate, every gesture a choice.
She owns her space—whether standing, sitting, or lying down, she does not make herself smaller.
Posing Ideas for Lilith Photography:
Standing with her back to the camera, turning only her head, daring you to follow.
Lying on dry, cracked earth—untamed, unbowed, staring at the sky.
Holding a candle to her lips, whispering a truth never spoken.
A snake coiled around her wrist, a symbol of the knowledge she was never meant to have.
Crushing a pomegranate in her hands, the red staining her fingers.
Lilith does not soften for the image. She does not play to be liked.
She is simply who she is, unapologetically whole.
6. The Energy of Lilith in Your Own Creative Work
Lilith is not just a figure for photography—she is a force to channel in all creative work.
In writing – Can you write something unapologetically honest, without filtering yourself for likability?
In performance – Can you embody a woman who does not shrink, who moves with full ownership?
In branding & business – Can you step into your voice fully, without needing to be chosen?
Lilith’s energy asks you:
Where have you been making yourself smaller?
Where have you feared taking up too much space?
Where have you been waiting for permission to create, to express, to own your power?
Because Lilith does not wait.
She does not linger at the gate.
She does not ask the Garden to let her back in.
She walks into the wilderness, and she becomes something greater.
The question is:
Will you?
Lilith asks us to stop waiting for permission.
She reminds us that freedom comes with a price—but that the price of staying small is far greater.
So I leave you with this:
What art could you create to work with Lilith’s energy?
Could you write a piece that refuses to soften its edges?
Could you paint, photograph, or sculpt the untamed feminine—without apology?
Could you move, dance, or dress in a way that feels powerful, sensual, fully yours?
Because Lilith does not beg.
Lilith does not explain.
Lilith does not wait to be invited.
She walks into the unknown, into the wilderness, into herself.
And she does not look back.
If you are feeling the call to embody Lilith deeper, to step into her power in a way that is felt, seen, and claimed—book a ceremonial photoshoot.
This is more than photography. It is a reclamation, a transformation, a ritual.
If you are ready to meet yourself through Lilith’s eyes,
If you are ready to take up space, to be witnessed in your power—
Then let’s create something together.
In Creativtity & Connection
Rosie x
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