On the Complexity of Womanhood
As a woman, I have spent hours on end listening to people telling me how to behave.When I was a child, I was first told to be a “good girl”. I was told to be calm and understanding to those around me, forgiving of boys’ rude behavior. “Boys will be boys”, they said.
I was told to never lose composure, too take up less room, to keep my voice low so as not to disturb. I became quiet and shy, afraid to speak up.My behavior was constantly praised; “A pleasure to have in class,” they told me.
When I turned twelve, the good girl was still a pillar of my identity. I was an overachiever in school and a free therapist for troubled kids in my class. I was told not to dress provocatively because men would get ideas. I was told to keep my guard up, to carry pepper spray in my pocket. And I did as I was told. Yet constant precautions didn’t stop me from developing fears. Walking down the streets of my hometown feeling men’s eyes on me, I was feeling unsafe, holding my breath. I did everything as I was told, but that never stopped men from harassing me the exact same way they would other women. Was there something I had missed? Was there a way to exist as a woman that would leave me free from any harm?
An answer was spat in my face when I first watched Thelma & Louise. The movie beautifully shows the wide spectrum of ways to exist as a woman, as the two main characters are depicted as profoundly different and multifaceted. The two embark a long path of personal growth and change, very blatantly visually represented through their car journey that forces them to mature and rethink their identities. During their voyage, the hardships they encounter revolve around patriarchy chasing them and attempting to halt their escape from their predetermined societal roles. In a harsh way I have learned that no matter who you are, how you behave, how well you conform to patriarchal standards , society will inevitably screw you over nonetheless.
A frame from the movie
The movie ends with the two women racing towards a ravine: both radiant, emotional and confident in their final path forward, as there is no going back to their old lives. The ending is bittersweet. While women metaphorically succeed in going beyond constraints of patriarchal society, it’s tragic nonetheless. The theme of the escape which underlines the entire movie culminates with death; a woman free from the patriarchy is a dead woman. As I watched Thelma and Louise ride towards the edge of the cliff, I thought of Lucretia. Who could better represent the unsettling feeling of an absence of salvation that this movie provoked? Lucretia had been the most virtuous of Roman women, a beacon of chastity and purity, and yet violated by a man. How could she react to rape in a way that would still preserve her honor and virtue? She had to die. And so, she did, as she took her own life with a dagger, proclaiming that no woman after her shall ever live in dishonor.
The patriarchy longs for women to take up less space, remain silent, disappear, and ultimately cease to exist. The most virtuous woman is a dead woman.
This perspective implies that simply existing authentically is an ongoing form of rebellion. By taking up space, by voicing their truths, and by making choices for themselves, women resist an oppressive system. Let us free ourselves of the myth of the good girl, as there is no good girl at all, no one way of being that will protect us. There is only the courage needed to exist as a woman, an act of personal and social rebellion.