Clarissa Pinkola Estés released a brick of a book in 1992 that somehow, against all odds, stayed on the New York Times bestseller list for 145 weeks. It’s called Women Who Run With Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype. If you’ve ever spent time in a used bookstore, you’ve seen that iconic cover—the soulful, grainy portrait of a woman’s face. Maybe you bought it. Maybe it’s been sitting on your nightstand for three years because, honestly, it’s a lot to digest.
It isn't a "how-to" manual. It's not a self-help book in the modern, "girlboss" sense. Estés is a Cantadora—a keeper of old stories—and a Jungian psychoanalyst. She spent over twenty years piecing this together. The core argument? Within every woman, there is a "Wild Woman," a powerful force of instinct and creativity that has been systematically stifled by a society that prefers us polite, quiet, and predictable.
When we talk about Women Who Run With Wolves, we're talking about a psychic homecoming. It’s about why so many women feel bone-tired, even when they’re "successful." It’s about that weird, nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something important about yourself.
The Bones of the Wild Woman Archetype
What does "Wild Woman" even mean? Estés isn't suggesting we all move into the forest and stop showering. That's a common misconception. In the context of Women Who Run With Wolves, "wild" means natural. It’s the La Que Sabe—The One Who Knows. It is the part of the female psyche that is indigenous, messy, and fiercely protective of its own life force.
Think about the story of La Loba, the Wolf Woman. Estés starts the book with this myth about an old woman who lives in a hidden place and collects bones, specifically those of wolves. When she assembles a full skeleton, she sings over it. The wolf flesh returns. The wolf leaps up and runs, and as it runs, it transforms into a woman laughing.
It’s a metaphor for soul-retrieval.
Most of us are walking around with missing pieces. We've traded our "growl" for a "please." We’ve let our creative projects die in the basement. Estés argues that to be healthy, a woman must return to these "bones" and sing them back to life. You can't just think your way out of a spiritual drought. You have to find the rhythm again.
Why the Bluebeard Story Is Terrifyingly Relevant
One of the most intense chapters in Women Who Run With Wolves focuses on the tale of Bluebeard. If you don't remember it, here’s the gist: a man with a blue beard marries a young woman and gives her the keys to his castle. He tells her she can go anywhere except one tiny room.
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She opens it. Obviously.
Inside, she finds the corpses of his previous wives.
Estés uses this to talk about the "natural predator" of the psyche. This isn't just about bad boyfriends, though it certainly applies to toxic relationships. It’s about that inner voice that tells you your ideas are stupid or that you’re not allowed to be curious. The "Bluebeard" is the force that tries to kill off the young, naive, hopeful parts of us.
A lot of women feel stuck in a "locked room" of their own making. They stay in jobs that drain them or friendships that belittle them because they’ve been taught that being "nice" is more important than being safe or fulfilled. Estés is blunt: if you don’t recognize the predator, you become its prey. You have to look at the carnage in the cellar to stop it from happening again.
The Problem with the "Good Girl" Narrative
Society loves a "good" woman. A good woman is helpful. She’s organized. She doesn't make a scene.
But Estés argues that this "civilizing" process often goes too far. It results in what she calls "famine" of the soul. When we cut off our instincts to fit in, we lose our "nose" for danger. We stop being able to tell who is a friend and who is a foe. We lose the ability to say "No" without feeling like we’re dying of guilt.
In Women Who Run With Wolves, there’s a heavy emphasis on the "Ugly Duckling" myth. It’s not just a cute story about a swan. It’s about the soul-crushing experience of being raised in a "psychic family" that doesn't understand you. If you’re a swan raised by ducks, you’re going to think you’re a failure. You’ll spend your whole life trying to quack better.
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Finding your "pack" isn't a luxury. It’s a survival requirement.
The Creative Life as a Biological Mandate
For Estés, creativity isn't a hobby. It's an essential function, like breathing or digestion. When a woman isn't creating—whether that's painting, gardening, building a business, or raising children with intention—she gets sick. Not necessarily "flu" sick, but spiritually lethargic.
She talks about "Vasalisa the Wise," a Russian folktale where a girl has to go into the woods to get fire from the Baba Yaga (the wild crone). Vasalisa has a little doll in her pocket that tells her what to do. This doll is intuition.
How often do we ignore that "doll" in our pocket?
We have a "gut feeling" about a project or a person, and we talk ourselves out of it because it’s not "logical." Women Who Run With Wolves tells us to stop doing that. Intuition is a muscle. If you don't use it, it atrophies. If you use it, it becomes a sharp, reliable tool.
Addressing the Critics and the Context
Is the book perfect? Of course not. Some critics find the Jungian framework a bit dated or overly binary. It’s very rooted in the idea of "The Feminine," which can feel restrictive to modern readers who view gender on a broader spectrum.
Also, let's be real: the prose is dense. Estés is a poet, and she writes in loops and metaphors. It’s not a book you "finish" so much as one you graze on for a decade. Some people find the "wolf" metaphors a bit "woo-woo" or overly dramatic.
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But if you look past the 90s New Age aesthetic, the psychological bones are incredibly sturdy. She’s talking about boundaries. She’s talking about the cost of repressed anger. She’s talking about why we keep choosing the same mistakes. These aren't just "feminist" issues; they’re human issues seen through a specific, mythic lens.
How to Actually Apply This Without Quitting Your Job
You don't need to burn your life down to find your "Wild Woman." That’s a mistake people make. They think they need to go on a three-month trek in the Himalayas.
Actually, the "Wild Woman" shows up in small, fierce choices.
It’s saying "I can’t do that" when someone asks for a favor you don't have the energy for. It’s finally starting that weird art project you’re embarrassed to show anyone. It’s sitting in silence for ten minutes and actually listening to the noise in your own head instead of drowning it out with a podcast.
Estés emphasizes that the return to the "wild" is a cycle. You don't arrive there and stay. You go out, you get "domesticated" by life’s demands, you realize you’re feeling dry and brittle, and you return to the stories to find your way back. It’s a rhythmic pulse.
Actionable Steps for the Modern "Wild Woman"
If you feel like you’ve lost the scent of your own trail, you don't need a map. You need to start paying attention.
- Audit your "Yeses." Look at your calendar. How many of those things are there because you actually want to be there, and how many are there because you’re afraid of the "Bluebeard" voice in your head? Start pruning. A "No" is a boundary that protects your creative energy.
- Reclaim a "Useless" Joy. Think back to what you did before you were worried about being productive. Did you draw? Did you collect rocks? Did you dance in the kitchen? Do that thing for 15 minutes this week. Don't post it on Instagram. Just do it.
- Listen to the "Doll." Next time you have a small, intuitive nudge—even if it’s just "Take a different way home"—follow it. See what happens. You're retraining your psyche to trust itself.
- Read the Stories Aloud. There is something chemically different about hearing a myth rather than just reading it silently. Pick a story from the book—maybe "The Red Shoes" or "Skeleton Woman"—and read it out loud. Notice where your body feels tight or where you feel a sudden spark of energy.
Women Who Run With Wolves is a reminder that we aren't meant to be "managed." We are living systems. We need seasons of rest, seasons of rage, and seasons of intense creation. If you’ve been feeling like a caged animal, maybe it’s because you’ve forgotten that you’re the one who holds the key. The door isn't actually locked. It’s just heavy. Give it a push.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Connection:
- Identify one recurring "myth" in your own life—the story you tell yourself about why you can't succeed—and write a different ending for it.
- Create a "sanctum" space in your home, even if it's just a specific chair, where you are allowed to be completely "uncivilized" and honest with yourself.
- Find a copy of the text and start with the "Hymn to the Wild Woman" at the beginning of the book to set your intention for soul-recovery.