Circular vs. Hierarchical: Rethinking Gender Power

Women Are Circular, Men Are Hierarchical: Rethinking Power Beyond Feminist Dogma

We’ve all heard the narrative: men hold power because male social structures are hierarchical—Jordan Peterson has explained this in detail. Men form ladders: leaders at the top, competition below, status determined by ascent.

From this, modern feminism concludes that women are helpless victims trapped under “the patriarchy.”
But that’s only because feminist theory recognizes one model of power: the male one.

Women have always expressed power differently.

I never internalized the victim narrative because I intuitively understood female social influence long before anyone tried to indoctrinate me out of it. And much later, while studying both the Ottoman Empire and the Blackfoot Sundance traditions near my home in Calgary, everything clicked: some cultures understand power not as a ladder, but as a circle.

And women thrive in circles.

Circular Power: The Missing Language for Female Influence

While researching my novel about a concubine who becomes a warlord, I came across Empress of the East—the biography of Roxelana, one of the most powerful concubines in world history. In it, the historian explains that the Ottomans visually imagined power as concentric circles, not vertical structures.

At the center: the Sultan.
Around him: the women of the harem—his mother, wives, concubines, children.
Beyond them: the palace officials.
Then nobles.
Then the courtyard.
Then the world.

Power radiated outward.

And the women in the harem, especially the Sultan’s mother (a slave), were physically and politically closest to the center. Roxelana herself, a slave concubine, fundamentally reshaped the empire—politically, socially, and dynastically. Something that makes feminist “powerlessness” narratives look simplistic at best.

This circular model of influence resonated with me deeply because it mirrored something I had already encountered long before the Ottomans—something local, something rooted in the land I grew up on.

The Blackfoot Sundance: A Sacred Circle at the Center of Power

Where I live in Calgary, the Blackfoot Confederacy has practiced the Sundance for generations. It is sacred, ceremonial, and deeply symbolic—and one thing that stands out unmistakably is the structure:

A circle of teepees, arranged perfectly around the ceremonial centre.
And in that centre stands the medicine woman and the sacred pole, the heart of the entire ceremony.

There is no “top” or “bottom.”
No hierarchy of boxes stacked upward.
The spiritual power radiates outward from the centre, and everyone’s position is defined by their relationship to that center.

It is a worldview that understands power differently—relationally, spiritually, communally.
A circular system of meaning.

When I read about the Ottoman circles of influence, it immediately echoed the Blackfoot Sundance from my home in Treaty 7 in Canada. I don’t want to give the impression I was invited to a Sundance.  They rightly are distrustful of white people. I’m awkward but I know my home and the people here. I’m a people watcher. That’s why I know about the Sundance.

Some cultures build pyramids.
Others build circles.
And women, historically, often sit at the center of the circle—where influence is strongest.

Why Feminist Theory Misses This Completely

Modern feminism rejects circular power because it can’t be measured in corporate job titles or political positions. It’s not hierarchical. It’s not loud. It’s not competitive.

So feminists erase it.

They insist that if a woman isn’t climbing a ladder like a man, she must be powerless. Yet this mindset ignores the actual structures through which women have influenced families, communities, politics, religion, diplomacy, and entire civilizations.

Women’s power is not lesser; it’s different.

It sits in the center, not on the top.

It persuades rather than dominates.

It moves people rather than defeating them.

Roxelana didn’t become powerful by climbing a hierarchy—she did it by understanding the circle she lived in.

And Indigenous cultures like the Blackfoot Sundance preserve this same truth: there is power at the centre.

How I Learned This Before Anyone Could Indoctrinate Me

I recognized the circular nature of female influence long before I learned any of this academically—back in high school, long before feminism tried to convince me that girls were powerless.

The boys formed their own hierarchy—competition, status, dominance. Meanwhile, I learned, almost by accident, how much influence I had without even trying. A look, a hint, a bit of charm, and an entire group of boys would reorganize their plans around me. One boy in particular would jump through hoops, thinking he was “winning” when I was actually directing the situation with subtlety rather than force.

I wasn’t climbing a ladder.
I was sitting at the center of a circle.

The field of male hierarchy was right in front of me, but I wasn’t participating in it. I was influencing it.

From the Ottoman palace to the Blackfoot Sundance to the dynamics of teenage social life, the pattern is the same:

Female power is circular.
Male power is hierarchical.
Both shape the world—but only one gets acknowledged.

Women Aren’t Helpless. They’re Powerful in a Different System.

The tragedy of modern feminism is that it erases women’s natural mode of influence and replaces it with a narrative of helplessness. Traditional cultures—from the Ottomans to the Blackfoot—understood that the center of the circle is where life, meaning, and influence originate.

Women don’t need to adopt hierarchical male strategies to be powerful.
They already possess a form of influence that moves entire systems.

Some societies saw this clearly.
We have forgotten it.

But we can remember.