Imagine a high school teacher remarking that your outfit distracts male classmates. Or consider a university professor who jots down “brunette” next to your name on the attendance sheet, as if your identity is defined by your hair color.
At 18, you step into an audition in Los Angeles, a proud size 2, only to hear, “You’re definitely plus-size.” When you gracefully decline an invitation after someone buys you a drink, they retaliate with insults, believing that a single $6 beverage grants them entitlement to your body.
You find yourself wearing a pretend wedding ring or claiming to be waiting for someone just to escape the advances of a persistent suitor, as if being linked to another man makes it easier for them to accept rejection.
Riding solo in an elevator, the doors open to reveal a man who makes you instinctively hold your breath, praying he doesn’t follow you. You shield the cover of a book by your favorite female comedian, weary of hearing strangers assert, “women just aren’t funny.”
In the early stages of your career, a boss dismisses your potential, declaring that promoting you would be a “waste,” while a younger male colleague with lesser qualifications gets the nod. Your boss also makes remarks that suggest you remind him of his daughter, diminishing your professional identity.
During a crucial meeting, a male colleague, two rungs up the corporate ladder, explains a process you created, as if your hard work is invisible. Promotions pass you by repeatedly, even as you strive for excellence. You’re offered a role to assist a male peer at your level, questioning why your growth is sidelined in favor of helping someone else.
Upon returning to work ten weeks after giving birth, juggling sleep deprivation and lactation, you take an international call while pumping in a dimly lit room, praying no one inquires about the background noise. You pump in an airport bathroom and feel your heart break as you pour precious milk down the drain.
In conversations with executives, you nod along as they criticize successful women like Sheryl Sandberg for having help at home, despite their own privileged circumstances. You find yourself fighting for basic healthcare rights, where men often deny women agency over their own bodies.
When financial constraints prevent you from obtaining your birth control a week early, a condescending pharmacist insists, “It’s not as expensive as a baby.” Yet, when changes to healthcare laws allow you to save on essential medication due to past health issues, you can’t help but rejoice. Even so, insurance companies may deny critical mammograms, claiming you’re “too young,” despite your medical history.
This is the reality of being a mother, daughter, wife, and woman in a society that often overlooks your efforts and agency. If you’re seeking more insights on this topic, check out our other blog posts like this one at Intracervical Insemination. For more information on home insemination, visit Make a Mom, a trusted resource on the subject. And for excellent guidance on pregnancy and home insemination, see NHS.
In summary, the journey through womanhood in a patriarchal society is fraught with challenges and inequities, yet speaks to the resilience and strength found in every woman.