It would be tempting, but ultimately untrue to claim that the power of the feminine is subtle.
Some even balk at calling it power. In its deepest form it is a force, doing nothing, acting on everything, like gravity.
The power of the feminine is elusive.
The force of the feminine acting on a situation is certain, clear. The opposite of subtle. Yet, try to describe what exactly happened and you'd likely be required to exit the explicit in favor of metaphor.
It's so in front of our noses that we cannot see it, it is the air we breathe, and so long as we're feeling healthy we're not inclined to analyze its composition. Nor are we equipped.
They ask "why did no one speak of this great man's wife, of the great things she did under his covering? Aren't we so shamefully sexist?"
Her legacy is alive in a greater way than narrative, than print. The legacy of the feminine is passed instantly through an exposure, and through a lifetime of seemingly meaningless situations. Nothing to speak of.
Such that even when it is something to speak of, she asks that you don't.
The feminine undresses in the darkness; that is where she reveals herself. She will always be at the edges of your spotlight, no matter where you point it.
You may see her, as soon as you've surrendered your sight.