From Asherah to Andrew Tate: Why Silencing Women Is Always a Political Act

The Same Men Who Silenced the Goddess Are Still Speaking

Asherah, 13th century BCE. Once venerated as the mother of life, she was later erased from scripture. Archaeological remains, however, continue to tell her story. (Image cropped and adapted from an artifact at the Israel Museum. Art credit: Sigal Lea Raveh.)

It started as a discussion about an ancient goddess

We were sitting in a circle — women from different generations, different walks of life — unpacking the story of Asherah. Once revered beside Yahweh, she was later cast out of the Bible by priests who couldn’t tolerate a divine feminine.

But the conversation didn’t stay in the Iron Age for long.

Within minutes, we were naming the men of our time: Andrew Tate. Jordan Peterson. The “trad wife” influencers with perfect lighting and retrograde values. The rising tide of young men online who reject feminism but also reject basic decency — the ones who won’t let women lead in the church, or vote in Congress, or even speak without scorn.

These men don’t just want to silence women. They want to rebuild a world where we were never heard to begin with.

What shook me was not just the examples, but the fury and grief that surfaced in the room — from older women who had fought this battle before, and from younger ones who never thought they’d have to.

We had gathered to talk about an erased goddess.

Instead, we found ourselves facing a resurgent priesthood of misogyny — dressed this time not in temple robes, but in TikToks, podcast mics, relentless algorithms and expensive suits.

This is not just a cultural glitch. It’s a spiritual sickness. A deformity of the soul.
But it has ancient roots.

They cut down her tree

Asherah isn’t just a footnote in forgotten scripture.
She was once the mother goddess of the Hebrew people — worshipped alongside Yahweh, honored in home shrines, and venerated as a tree of life, nourishment, and wisdom.

She was beloved by the common people.

The biblical writers who condemned Asherah worship were members of the male religious elite in Jerusalem. They did not represent the beliefs or practices of the ordinary people, who clearly continued to venerate Asherah in their homes and villages. — William G. Dever, Did God Have a Wife?

She was central in family home, and in village life.

¹⁸ The children gather wood, the fathers light the fire, and the women knead the dough and make cakes to offer to the Queen of Heaven. — Jeremiah 7:18

That’s a lovely image of village life where all the inhabitants are readying a celebration of their mother goddess. In the very next sentence, however, we hear the voices of the priestly elites, trampling on the simple people’s devotion.

They pour out drink offerings to other gods to arouse my anger. — Jeremiah 7:18

Because they’re the priests of the city and temple, versus the common people out in the sticks, they feel entitled to use Yahweh’s voice for their proclamations.

Yet Asherah was a part of Israelite religion, from the beginning.

Monotheism was not the original faith of Israel… The evidence amply indicates that Israelite religion was not static, but changed over time. The worship of Yahweh alongside other deities, including El, Baal, and Asherah, was part of early Israelite religion. — Mark S. Smith, The Early History of God

Israel’s sacred tradition did not emerge in a vacuum — it was originally polytheistic or henotheistic, and Asherah was part of that sacred family.

Smith explains further:

There is little doubt that the cult of Asherah was widespread in ancient Israel. She was likely understood as Yahweh’s consort in popular religion, even if not officially recognized in the state cult. — Mark S. Smith, The Early History of God

Yet for the elite, educated class that officiated over the temple and “official religion”, Asherah had to go — she was powerful, feminine, and enjoyed a source of power outside of their control.

So the priests came for her.

They cut down her trees. Smashed her images.

They buried her name, leaving just enough behind — a few verses, a few polemics — so we would know what had been lost. And who had taken it.

“Tear down their altars, break their sacred stones, and burn their Asherah poles.”
— Exodus 34:13

Rewrote the stories, making her into a foreign invader — despite the fact that archaeological evidence proves she was Yahweh’s beloved consort from the beginning of his reign.

And they didn’t just erase a goddess. They erased what it meant to have a woman at the center of holiness. At the center of power.

And that silence echoed through the centuries.

Fast forward to now — and you’ll find her silencing continues

It’s not just influencers. It’s entire media ecosystems, political platforms, and religious movements that preach a gospel of female submission and male supremacy.
They want women silent in pulpits, submissive in marriage, invisible in leadership — while simultaneously demanding their beauty, their labor, their emotional availability.

Please forgive me if I don’t provide links to these things — I don’t want to reward them within the algorithm. But I’m sure you’ve seen it for yourself.

Today’s priesthood isn’t only in churches. It’s in DMs, YouTube channels, and right-wing think tanks.

It sells itself as tradition, masculinity, order. But it's the same old fear: a woman who knows she’s sacred.

The room got quiet

We hadn’t planned to talk about any of this.

The women at my church had gathered to explore Asherah — the lost goddess, the feminine face of the divine that patriarchy buried. We brought readings, shared history, passed around the words of scholars and prophets.

But then, someone said:

But why would the priests do this? Attacking an image of deity just because it’s feminine — it just doesn’t make sense."

Another quickly put jumped in.

This kind of crap is still happening. The men in power now are trying to do the same thing.

Just like that, the room shifted.

We started talking about today — about the pastors who claim women can’t lead, the “trad wife” influencers with their Instagram-perfect servitude, the podcasters who call career women whores and single mothers a plague.

Someone brought up incels, then Andrew Tate — both of whom believe violence against women is justified.

A couple women who had grown up Catholic talked about misogyny there, while the Protestants and former nondenominationals had their own stories.

And why the hell hasn’t the Equal Rights Amendment passed—after all these goddamn years? We grew up believing equality was inevitable, that the fight had been mostly won. Now we’re watching that illusion burn. And the worst part? Our daughters are walking into a world even more hostile than the one we thought we’d left behind.

Another woman, soft-spoken until now, said:

“I’m thinking of the male chauvinists in the 1970s. They opened doors for women, gave up their seats on the train, and didn’t turn their girlfriends into porn stars.”

There was bitter laughter — but no disagreement. She continued.

I don’t know how young women today can stand it. What do they do?

Someone else piped up,

They work on their friendships, and leave men the hell alone.

What we were really talking about wasn’t manners, nostalgia, or dating patterns. We were talking about a generation of spiritually empty men — many young, many loud — who are rejecting feminism without ever having practiced respect. They don’t want women in the workplace, or the pulpit, or the public square.

They want power — the kind that silences, even if they get to shout. They want women degraded; they show us this by their actions and their words.

And they’re getting it, post by post, pulpit by pulpit, podcast by podcast.

Breaking silence

This isn’t just cultural backlash.

It’s not just a glitch in the algorithm or a phase of overcorrection. It’s a zero-sum game, played out between the power of the rich and poor, men and women.

Every time a woman is told she can’t lead, speak, write, or rule, it reenacts a pattern: Break the image. Cut the tree. Burn the altar. Blame the woman.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s done by Iron Age priests or men with ring lights and microphones — the result is the same. Women are separated from the sacred, and men are handed the microphone.

But here’s the thing they never count on: The memory of the goddess doesn’t die quietly.

Archaeology confirms that the cult of Asherah was practiced widely in Israelite households. She was not fringe — she was beloved. — William G. Dever, Did God Have a Wife?

She’s Still Speaking

They tried to erase her name. They burned her altars and felled her trees, but Asherah isn’t gone.

She lives in every one of us who remains standing when we’re told to sit down and shut up. In every truth passed along, friend to friend, generation to generation. In every act of care and devotion between lovers, between parents and children.

She doesn’t need a temple — she never did. Her worship centers in the homes, the community, the circles of shade under broad, sheltering trees.

Now she rises in living rooms, in church basements, in women’s groups where we share our individual truth — and suddenly recognize the larger pattern.

Those who would silence a goddess — they’re still speaking, louder than ever. Electronically enhanced media personalities and religious leaders, and politicians encourage many to ban women from the workplace, defund women’s healthcare, promote inequality of wealth, power, and gender.

They’re still talking. But so are we.

And now, we’re speaking with her voice.

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Hello, Enthusiast! I’m a former military intelligence analyst turned nonprofit lifer—with two decades in housing, crisis response, recovery services, disability support, and mental health advocacy. The G.I. Bill funded my M.Div., which I used to study contemplative spirituality.

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BTW: If you want to learn more about Yahweh, before Renaissance painters taught us how to envision him, check this out: