Truly, honestly, nothing in the world makes me prouder of my own gender than watching a woman beam with pride over something she’s accomplished. I get a contact high off watching another woman revel in her own victory after she’s conquered something she cares about, no matter how big or small. Whether she’s nailed a presentation to the board, raised a substantial sum for charity, or simply made a meal that her entire family appreciated, if it makes her feel good about herself, then I’m happy for her. No… I’m thrilled for her.
Most of society doesn’t seem to feel this way, though. Throughout all of our Herstory, women who tried to accomplish something were often held down and belittled. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. Anne Hutchinson was exiled and eventually murdered. Even when society did appear to support a strong woman’s efforts, if anyone noticed her feeling too good about her accomplishments then she’d instantly be labeled a prideful narcissist. If Herstory has taught us anything, it’s that confidence and pride are completely unacceptable traits for any women participating in polite society, and society will make sure a woman doesn’t feel good about herself for long.
- If a woman earns a promotion, people around her want to know who she slept with to get it.
- If a woman actually likes her own body, she’s conceited.
- If a woman achieves her desired natural birth experience, people tell her she’s not getting any medals for it.
- If a woman proudly throws herself into the role of Domestic Goddess, people think she’s too stupid or lazy to have a “real” job.
I can’t understand any of it, and I’m not sure there is a way to understand a social attitude so cruel and illogical. I am simply not threatened by another woman’s achievements. In fact, Her achievements make me feel like my own achievements are even more possible, and even more valuable.
When Veronica Arreola announced that she was headed to the White House to receive an award from the President, I swelled with pride for her, and for what she has been able to do at her relatively young age. I didn’t think, “How DARE she tell people about this?! She’s so full of herself! Humph!” NO – I thought, “Dude! I want to take out a full page ad in the paper bragging that I just KNOW her!”
When TiffRobyn announced her vaginal birth after two cesareans and said, “I feel amazing. No comparison. Enjoying my baby more because of it,” I was so happy for her I could have cried. I didn’t think “Well, getting your VBAC doesn’t earn you any special Motherhood badge.” NO – I thought, “RIGHT ON SISTER… right on!”
It’s not hard to be happy for both of these women and their very different achievements. They each did something amazing – something that meant something to them — and they each feel great about it. So why is it so hard for some people to watch another woman feel good about herself? Why is a woman’s confidence so threatening to others? Why do some sad people think it’s okay to put strong women down, make fun of her achievements, or accuse her of being full of herself?
This is something I’ll just never understand, and it’s intensely upsetting and embarrassing to me as a woman. Don’t misunderstand – I’m not encouraging women to think they’re better than other people, or to put people down for not being exactly like them. I’m simply encouraging women to own their wins, and I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with a woman feeling deliriously proud of anything she’s worked for, no matter how big, or small, or seemingly unimportant to other people.
As I sat today thinking about bringing my daughter into this world, I instantly felt sorry for her. I felt guilty that I’m dragging her into a ridiculous society that doesn’t want her to succeed, and certainly doesn’t want her to talk about it when she does. It makes me sick to think of the people who will try to cut my daughter down to size if they see her getting a little too confident.
I’m going to teach my daughter to love herself and to feel good about everything she’s able to achieve. I want her to celebrate all of life’s little victories, and to celebrate other women’s as well. I want her to be comfortable enough in her own skin to not be threatened by another woman’s confidence.
I thought long and hard about this last night as I finished a literature class taught by a professor who is notoriously, relentlessly, and unapologetically the toughest critic a writer could ever fear. In fact, he would have taken full points off that last sentence because I used the word “IS,” which is (ahem) a passive verb and passive verbs are the highest of crimes in his class. I lost points on my first paper for putting the date in the wrong format. He has scared the daylights out of me both times I’ve taken his writing courses, but also made me a much better academic writer in the process. Last night, Professor Hardnose handed back my final paper, gave me a huge smile and said, “This only happens once every two years.” When I looked at my paper, I saw what he meant. He gave me an A+. 100%. A perfect score. And obviously that isn’t something he takes lightly.
If you’ve read two sentences of my “About” page, you understand how important grades are to me. They are a paycheck for me right now. They earn me a lot of scholarship money. They are my ticket into a good law school, and I’m as serious as a heart attack about maintaining my career-long 4.0 GPA, even though so many people roll their eyes at me for it. And when Professor Hardnose handed me that A+ (again, the man who absolutely does not give A+’s) my whole body lit up like it was on fire. I felt like I could float out of the room in a blaze of glory. I sat and thought about how I had written that paper with a huge pregnant belly in my way, and two children running underfoot the whole time, and in that moment, I felt unstoppable. Absolutely, completely, unstoppable. This was the kind of pride that the Puritans would have court marshaled me for.
But - and I suspect this is how it is for every woman who achieves something important to her – my high didn’t last long. I immediately started to second-guess myself. I started to get nervous about all the mistakes I could have made that would have kept me from getting that perfect score. Then I got nervous that it was a fluke that I wouldn’t be able to replicate in his next class. Thanks to a lifetime of social programming, it’s entirely too easy for me to return to self-doubt after only mere moments of feeling The Win, especially when I know that so many other people would spit bile at me for feeling good about that grade for more than a few seconds.
I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of strong, capable, confident women struggled with these same exact feelings. Just because we grab a moment of glory doesn’t mean that we think we’re perfect, or that we can never fail. In fact, every morning I wake up wondering how I’ll face the challenges of the day. I teeter back and forth from feeling like a Kick Ass Chick Who Can Do Anything to feeling inadequate, incapable, and prone to total failure.
And as I lost my high, I thought about how people might treat my daughter if she committed the crime of feeling awesome about her own A+ paper. All of this made me realize that the very best thing I can do for this little girl is to make sure that she knows that she’s supported, and that we want her to smile ear-to-ear every time she wins at life. And by example, I will show her what a wonderful feeling it is to be supportive of other women and all their confidence.
Being a woman is not a competition. Every woman who kicks ass in this world is making it easier for the next woman to do the same. Confidence is contagious, and should be threatening to no one. Own your achievements. Love them, AND yourself.
And if you ever need to gush to someone about something remarkable you did, come over and sit by me. I’ll light up with pride and give you a huge high-five. Then I’ll tell you to maintain that high for as long as you possibly can and ignore anyone who tries to take it away from you.
Are you listening, Jolene?
Just, WOW! Way to preach! For the WIN!!
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