The Descent of Inanna: Remembering the Feminine Christ
Before there was Jesus, there was Inanna.
Long before the crucifixion, before the resurrection, and before the masculine face of divinity dominated sacred texts—there was Inanna, the ancient Sumerian goddess of love, war, fertility, and cosmic justice.
Her myth is one of the oldest recorded stories in human history—etched into cuneiform tablets over 4,000 years ago.
Yet her tale echoes through time, not just as mythology but as memory. Inanna’s story is one of death, rebirth, and sovereignty that was long buried until now.
With the celebration of Easter just behind us, I thought it was only fair that we also remember her story.
Inanna’s story begins in the celestial heights.
She is revered in her power, ruling over the Earth and the heavens, but she hears a call that pulls her into the Underworld, the domain of her sister Ereshkigal, Queen of the Dead.
Inanna doesn’t resist. She chooses to descend—not for war, not for conquest, but for transformation.
To reach the depths, she must pass through seven gates, and at each, she must give up something sacred:
Her crown: the symbol of her divine authority (crown chakra).
Her staff: her spiritual power (third eye chakra).
Her necklace: her identity and voice (throat chakra).
Her breastplate: her heart’s protection (heart chakra).
Her ring of power: her sovereignty (solar plexus chakra).
Her cloak: her earthly wealth and status (sacral chakra).
Her final garment: her very identity, until she stands naked before death itself (root chakra).
At the end of her descent, Inanna dies. Her body is hung on a hook in the Underworld. She is gone for three days and three nights.
Sound familiar?
Inanna’s myth predates Jesus (or Yeshua) by thousands of years, but her journey mirrors the Christ story in uncanny ways—there was a voluntary descent into death, there was a sacrifice of divine status and ego, there was a death that initiates rebirth not just for herself, but the entire collective, and there was a resurrection after three days.
But unlike Jesus, whose story is retold and honored across the globe, Inanna’s resurrection is often forgotten or discredited.
Her story was buried as patriarchal religions rose, and the feminine face of God was stripped from spiritual memory.
Inanna’s descent teaches us that transformation requires surrender, that power is not just found in ascension but in descent, in the shedding of ego, identity, and attachment—something that Mary Magdalene also taught us.
It’s a sacred death of the Self to be reborn into a greater truth.
This is the original alchemical process, and it was once carried by women, goddesses, and priestesses in mystery schools across Mesopotamia, Egypt, and beyond.
When Christianity rose, it didn’t invent the resurrection story. It inherited it—and then recast it with a masculine face, often suppressing the divine feminine lineage that birthed it.
I personally believe in Yeshua’s existence. I believe in Mary Magdalene, andI believe she taught him the secrets of the mysteries as a priestess of Isis.
Together, they embodied a balanced and harmonious imprint of Christ consciousness and attempted to teach others the same, however their story became skewed, and one side was suppressed while another was put on a pedestal.
As we collectively move through intense cycles of death and rebirth—in our identities, relationships, systems, and soul paths—Inanna’s myth is more than relevant. It’s an active reminder.
The descent isn’t punishment. It’s sacred initiation.
And like Inanna, we are being stripped of what no longer serves us at each gate—until we stand naked in our truth, face our shadow, and return reborn, sovereign, and whole.
Things to think about:
What have I been asked to surrender at my own “gates” lately?
Where in my life am I being invited to descend—not to lose myself, but to reclaim my soul?
How can I honor the suppressed stories of the feminine within my own spiritual practice?
This is a time of remembrance, reclamation, and resurrection—for all of us.
Inanna lives in you, in me, and in the spaces between our silences. She was never gone—only waiting for us to return to her story.
Xo
Wow ! Thank you for this ! So beautifully told 💜
Beautiful !