Rewriting the anima: Jungian feminism, intersectionality, and the archetypes we inherit

Jung’s concept of the anima and animus: the unconscious feminine within men and the unconscious masculine within women, has long shaped how we think about inner development. These archetypes were meant to describe the hidden parts of the self, the aspects we must integrate to become whole.

But they also reflect the limitations of their time, reinforcing a rigid BINARY that no longer fits our evolving understanding of identity, power, and selfhood.

As intersectional feminism reminds us, identity is complex and fluid, shaped by race, class, queerness, disability, and cultural context. The inner world, like the outer world, is not static. The collective unconscious is not neutral; it holds the weight of history, the stories we inherit, and the biases of the cultures that shaped it. If therapy is about making the unconscious conscious, then we must also ask: Whose unconscious are we working with? Whose myths and archetypes have defined our self-understanding? And how do we reclaim or reshape them?

The archetypes we inherit: myths, gender, and power

For centuries, stories have dictated who we are allowed to be. The wise old man, the hero, the trickster: these figures are celebrated as universal. Meanwhile, women in myth and folklore have often been confined to limiting archetypes: the mother, the maiden, the seductress, the witch. They are defined by how they serve, how they tempt, or how they are sacrificed.

Even in Jungian thought, the anima is often reduced to the muse. The mysterious, intuitive, emotional force that men must integrate to become whole. The animus, in contrast, is described as logical, directive, and structured. These categories not only reinforce outdated gender roles but ignore the ways that culture, trauma, and intersectionality shape our relationship to power, voice, and self-expression.

In Women Who Run with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés reclaims the wild, instinctual feminine from these restrictive roles. She argues that the deep feminine is not passive, nurturing, or ethereal but rather a raw, untamed, knowing presence, one that has been buried by centuries of cultural conditioning. Her work reminds us that archetypes evolve, and that reclaiming them is an act of resistance.

But why stop at reclaiming?

Feminism pushes us further: rather than reviving lost archetypes, why not create new ones? If we accept that the psyche is shaped by the stories we tell, then rewriting the unconscious becomes a deeply political and creative act.

Beyond anima and animus: a new language for the unconscious

If we step beyond the idea of anima as “the feminine within men” and animus as “the masculine within women,” what are we left with?

Perhaps not opposites, but energies: creative and destructive, intuitive and analytical, relational and autonomous. All existing within each of us, shaped by experience rather than biology.

Intersectional feminism reminds us that the way we relate to power, vulnerability, expression, and repression is deeply personal. A Black woman’s experience of femininity is most probably different from a white woman’s. A queer person’s experience of gender may be fluid, fragmented, or contradictory. A neurodivergent person may relate to social roles in ways that do not fit traditional archetypes. These nuances are often ignored in traditional Jungian frameworks, which assume a universal human psyche, often centring white, Western, and binary ideas of gender.

Jung himself saw archetypes as shifting patterns rather than fixed forms, but much of the language surrounding them has remained rigid. In 2025, we are beginning to see a shift: Jungian therapists and depth psychologists are questioning how these ideas translate into a world that no longer fits their original assumptions.

If we reject the anima/animus binary, how do we describe these inner energies?

Some contemporary thinkers propose seeing them as relational dynamics rather than gendered traits. For example:

• Instead of anima as "feminine receptivity," we might think of it as attunement, connection, and deep listening.

• Instead of animus as "masculine direction," we might describe it as agency, voice, and structure.

• Rather than integrating a gendered ‘opposite,’ perhaps wholeness is about weaving together different energies at different times, depending on what the psyche needs (and this aligns with my approach to therapy, where I often focus on personal and relational needs!).

This opens the door to a more inclusive, dynamic understanding of the self, one that allows for fluidity rather than forcing us into roles shaped by often outdated myths.

How this manifests in therapy in 2025

These shifts are not just theoretical; they show up every day in therapy rooms. As an art psychotherapist, I see it in the images clients create, the way they experiment with self-representation, the figures they return to again and again, the symbols they reject or reimagine. Some patterns I’ve noticed:

• Clients challenging the mother archetype: many women, especially those raised in cultures that emphasise caregiving, struggle with seeing themselves outside of nurturing roles. Therapy often involves disentangling self-worth from self-sacrifice, exploring other ways of relating beyond being the emotional caretaker.

• Non-binary and gender-expansive clients rejecting traditional archetypes: some clients feel alienated by Jungian concepts that assume a binary psyche. They may create their own symbols, fluid, shifting, breaking categories altogether. This often requires therapists to rethink the language we use when discussing self-integration.

• Neurodivergent clients and the struggle with traditional hero myths: many neurodivergent clients feel disconnected from the hero’s journey, the classic narrative of overcoming obstacles through willpower and transformation. Instead, their stories may follow different rhythms: cyclical, nonlinear, rooted in adaptation rather than conquest. This has profound implications for how we conceptualise growth, success, and self-realisation.

• Clients using art to rewrite their own mythology: in creative therapy, people often instinctively challenge or rewrite traditional archetypes. Someone who has always seen themselves as "too sensitive" may create an image of sensitivity as a special skill rather than a flaw. Someone who has internalised oppression may depict themselves as a trickster figure, outwitting expectations. Art allows direct access to the unconscious, and in doing so, opens a space for new myths to emerge.

Rewriting the unconscious: the political and creative act of therapy

Jungian thought has always invited us to dialogue with the unconscious. But in 2025, that dialogue is changing.

Therapists are no longer just working with the unconscious as it exists, we are also questioning whose unconscious we are working with. The symbols we inherit are not neutral; they are shaped by culture, patriarchy, colonialism, and bias.

Therapy, then, becomes a place not just for self-exploration but for actively rewriting the stories that define us.

This is where Jungian thought meets feminism, intersectionality, and creative practice.

Rather than trying to fit ourselves into old myths, we are learning to create new ones. Perhaps the unconscious is not static but evolving with us, asking us to give it new language, new symbols, and new possibilities for becoming whole