Decolonizing Christianity: The Woman at The Well
From the time we are young, women, especially Black and Brown women, are conditioned to believe our worth lies in being chosen by a man. We're taught to center men in our identities, our futures, and even our healing. This indoctrination, rooted in patriarchy and colonial religion, convinces us that love, safety, and value come only through male validation. For women of color, this message is further compounded by a violent history of objectification, exploitation, and erasure. The story of Sarah Baartman, a South African woman displayed in 19th-century Europe as a spectacle because of her body, symbolizes a legacy in which Black women’s sexuality was both exploited and shamed, praised when convenient, and punished when it threatened power.
This historical trauma created a spiritual wound that many still carry today: the desperate search to be seen, chosen, and loved, often by those unequipped to honor us. And when we’re not chosen, we are made to feel ashamed, too much, not enough. But more than 2,000 years ago, a Samaritan woman (shunned, oversexualized, and alone) met a prophet at a well who didn’t ask her to shrink or perform. He saw her. He named her truth without shaming her. And in doing so, he gave her back to herself. When we look at this story through a decolonized lens, it reflects a narrative not of sin, but of liberation. It offers a sacred mirror for every woman of color still trying to remember who she is beyond patriarchy’s lie.
Patriarchy, Survival, and the False Promise of Being "Chosen"
In a world where women had no legal or financial independence, multiple marriages often weren’t just a sign of promiscuity, but ultimately of powerlessness. This woman wasn’t how she is typically depicted in traditional Christianity as “being stuck in deep sin.” Moreover, she was in survival. Passed from man to man. Possibly divorced, widowed, or discarded for failing to meet societal expectations. Her story is not so different from what many Black and Brown women face today: being labeled, used, and then shamed for trying to survive systems that were never built to protect them.
Society and colonialism has long taught women of color to believe their worth lies in being chosen by a man. In his arms. In his household. In his protection. This indoctrination is especially cruel when layered on top of centuries of systemic racism, where Black and Brown women have been hypersexualized and then punished for it.
We’ve been told to perform worthiness, often in silence, often alone.
Oversexualized, Then Shamed
The Samaritan woman bears the weight of many wounds. She is marginalized by ethnicity, gender, and presumed moral standing. She draws water alone and isolated, more than likely shunned even among other women. How many of us, as women of color, can resonate with her struggle and lived reality?
Seen as too sexual to be sacred,
too strong to be protected,
too angry to be vulnerable,
too much and not enough at the same time.
Our society has raped us (both historically and present day) for culture, labor, sensuality, and healing and then turns around and shames us for the very things it demanded.
Jesus as Prophet, Psychic, and Liberator
What’s extraordinary is how Jesus meets her. He doesn’t recoil. He doesn’t judge. He doesn’t correct or rebuke. He asks for her presence. He initiates relationship. Then he uses his spiritual gifts, not to control her, but to set her free.
He says to her “You have had five husbands, and the man you’re with now is not your husband.”
He names her truth, without shame. This was not religious condemnation. It was divine reflection. He moved in what we might now call prophetic sight, psychic knowing, or intuitive discernment, gifts that have long existed in Indigenous, African, and ancestral spiritual systems before colonized religion pathologized them.
Jesus wanted her to feel seen, understood, and cared for. He wanted her to know, despite how the rest of society has treated her, he knew her story and still chose to be present with her. To connect with her and to show that he knows her value. He simply invites her to remember who she is.
No Man Can Save You
This woman’s thirst wasn’t just for water. She had been seeking something deeper in the arms of man after man. She longed for safety, love, and belonging. She desired to be chosen, prioritized, and valued. When she leaves her encounter with Jesus at the well, she leaves behind her false identity, rooted in indoctrination, lies, and trauma and steps into the essence of her divine femininity.
She becomes the first evangelist in John’s gospel. A woman once shamed now runs into town declaring, “Come see a man who told me everything I ever did.” She is no longer hiding. No longer clinging. No longer ashamed.
This is the story of liberation.
Not a salvation from womanhood, but a coming home to it.
For Every Woman of Color
To the Black woman who keeps giving your all to be loved.
To the Brown woman who has been told you’re too much.
To the Indigenous woman whose body has been colonized by church, state, and man.
To the woman still waiting for someone to rescue her.
You don’t need to be saved by a man. You need to remember your divine self.
You are the well.
You are the prophet.
You are the water that heals.