Independence vs. Sovereignty: What We Really Long For

I have been striving for independence my whole adult life. I thought that being able to do it all myself meant that I was strong, capable, and worthy.  I suppose we all grow up being told that independence is the ultimate goal. We count the years until we can drive ourselves places, live on our own, earn our own money.  And of course, there’s something beautiful in learning how to stand on our own two feet. 

As I grew into womanhood, I came to believe that independence would protect me.  I saw so many abusive or toxic relationships, and I noticed that people often felt that they couldn’t leave even when they wanted to - because they believed either they or the other person wouldn’t cope without the relationship.  So, people stayed together out of either fear or obligation.  I never wanted that to happen to me, I always wanted to feel that I could leave if I wanted or needed to.  That I would be okay if someone left me.  That I would have the capacity to manage financially or emotionally and I would never feel beholden or stuck.

But if we’re honest, independence can also feel a little lonely.

Now, I wonder whether we are really designed for total independence.  Community, connectedness and relationships are so important and I’ve learned to see the value in interdependence.  We need each other. We need care, comfort, friendship, support. Trying to live as though we need no one can end up hurting us. It can make us feel cut off, exhausted, even ashamed when we do need help (because we all do). 

So maybe it’s not independence we’re really seeking after all. Maybe it’s sovereignty.

Recently, I was listening to If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie.  She shares an old story about a King who searches the lands for the answer to the question - what do all women really want?  In the end, the answer is revealed - all women want sovereignty.

This has really struck a cord with me because sovereignty is different. It’s not about doing everything alone; it’s about owning your choices and your voice. It’s the ability to say this is mine—my body, my decisions, my life—while still recognising that we thrive in community. Sovereignty is rooted in self-trust and agency, not isolation.

For women especially, this shift matters. For centuries, women were told we weren’t allowed sovereignty over our own lives. Choices were made for us: about our work, our bodies, our futures. And while the message of “independence” was supposed to liberate us, it often just pushed us toward another rigid standard—that the “ideal woman” should be able to juggle everything on her own without needing anyone.

But what if real strength isn’t independence at all, but sovereignty? What if it looks like choosing support instead of pretending we don’t need it? What if it looks like drawing boundaries, saying no when we need to, and yes when it’s right for us—not because someone else approves, but because we do?

I’m slowly learning that sovereignty allows me to soften into connection without losing myself. I can accept help, lean on others, and let people in, while still standing firmly in who I am. It’s a kind of freedom that feels far more sustainable than the lonely climb toward independence. It’s not about doing it all; it’s about choosing what’s truly mine, while allowing myself to be held by community.

Sovereignty gives us permission to be both grounded in ourselves and connected to others. It honours our need for belonging without sacrificing our dignity or self-respect. And maybe that’s the balance we’ve been searching for all along: not the lonely pursuit of independence, but the deep, rooted power of sovereignty.