My mom is such a strong, independent, strong-willed woman, and

When Lily Collins said, “My mom is such a strong, independent, strong-willed woman, and she always taught me to accept my worth for how I viewed myself and female empowerment, and it's okay to be independent and also need someone at the same time. I kinda get to be both,” she was not simply describing her upbringing — she was revealing a truth that balances the eternal forces of strength and vulnerability, self-reliance and connection. Beneath her words lies the wisdom of generations of women who have carried both armor and tenderness, who have learned that true power is not in rejecting dependence, but in mastering harmony between autonomy and love.

This teaching, though spoken in the modern world, would have been well understood by the ancients. They, too, knew the sacred duality that governs human life — the Yin and Yang of the East, the Apollo and Artemis of the Greeks — opposites not meant to battle, but to coexist. To be both independent and interdependent is the mark of maturity, not contradiction. Collins’ words remind us that self-worth must spring from within, yet connection with others enriches that worth, giving it depth and purpose. Her mother’s lesson, passed through wisdom and example, is an inheritance from the timeless lineage of women who refused to be confined to one definition.

The origin of her wisdom can be traced to the archetype of the strong matriarch — the mother who teaches not through perfection, but through presence. Lily’s mother, by her strength and independence, modeled a form of freedom that does not isolate, but liberates. In her teaching — “It’s okay to be independent and also need someone” — she redefines strength as wholeness. For to deny the need for others is to deny one’s humanity; to deny one’s independence is to deny one’s spirit. The harmony between the two is the true equilibrium of the soul.

History offers us many reflections of this truth. Consider Queen Elizabeth I, who reigned alone yet surrounded herself with advisers and companions. She was sovereign and solitary, commanding the power of a nation, yet her reign thrived because she understood the necessity of counsel, trust, and alliance. Or think of Eleanor Roosevelt, whose fierce independence in thought and action coexisted with deep compassion and partnership. Like them, Lily Collins’ insight arises from recognizing that to be whole is not to be untouched, but to be open and unafraid of balance.

There is also a deeper layer to her mother’s teaching — a call to self-definition. “Accept my worth for how I viewed myself,” she says, a phrase that strikes at the very heart of empowerment. The ancients warned that those who let the world define their value lose the essence of who they are. The oracle at Delphi spoke the eternal command: “Know thyself.” To measure worth not by the gaze of others but by one’s own reflection is to reclaim divine authority over one’s being. A woman who knows her worth cannot be diminished, nor can she be inflated by external praise — for her sense of self rests on truth, not illusion.

Yet Collins’ words also reveal tenderness — the admission that strength does not mean hardness. “It’s okay to be independent and also need someone at the same time.” This is a revelation born from humility and wisdom: that needing others is not weakness but trust. The warrior still seeks companionship around the fire; the artist still seeks those who understand her song. In acknowledging her need, she reclaims the sacred truth that vulnerability and strength are twin flames — one cannot burn without the other. To be human is to be both grounded and reaching, self-sufficient and connected.

And so, the lesson for future generations is this: do not let the world force you to choose between strength and love, between independence and intimacy. You are not divided — you are whole. Be fierce enough to stand alone when you must, and wise enough to lean on others when you can. Let your worth come from within, but let your heart remain open, for the world is richer when we walk together.

In the end, Lily Collins’ reflection becomes a universal teaching: that empowerment is not rebellion against dependence, but the mastery of balance. To be strong is to know yourself; to be free is to love without losing yourself; to be whole is to honor both the self and the bond. Her mother’s lesson, ancient in spirit and modern in form, stands as a beacon for all — that we are not meant to choose between being one or the other, but to live beautifully as both.