The Invasive Nature of Sexism on the Psyche

Dear Patriarchy, I’m Releasing You

Why it took 25 years to finally set you free

Today I burned a briar bush, and in doing so, I released the hold of the patriarchy. It was a combination landscaping-therapy session, and I highly recommend it. All you need is a briar bush (really, any weed will do) and a desire to be valued, as a woman, in your own right.

In truth, I have no idea if it was a briar bush, and there were actually two of them, but whatever they are, those things are beasts. The “bush” is actually a collection of long, narrow, thorny vines that are deceptively strong. They’ve been taking hold of my yard for years now, and I was starting to grow resentful, so this year, rested and re-motivated after months of being indoors for too long, I was ready for the battle. I put on my protective gear, wielded my hedge trimmer, and went to work, fighting for hours to get those suckers out of the ground. Knowing, too, how fast the vines spread and take root, I wanted to ensure the success of my efforts, so I decided they should be burned.

I felt a twinge of guilt burning a living thing, so instead, I channeled my yoga-consciousness (this is the therapy part) and decided to use the fire as an opportunity to release what is “no longer serving me” and — BAM! Apparently, this more esoteric perspective stirred up something deep within my subconscious, because suddenly I saw this invasive weed and its almost impenetrable roots as a metaphor for something I’d been struggling with for years: feeling valued as an individual in a male-centric world.

I mean, this is deep stuff, right?! I realized that my internal battle with our patriarchal society takes on a pattern that continuously tires me, over and over, to the point that sometimes it’s easier to, like the weed-bush that took over my garden, just ignore it and “deal with it later.” But the repression-strategy doesn’t work. Because it results in me either losing faith in myself, second-guessing my instincts, or, worst of all, allowing myself to be manipulated into the acceptance of whatever it is I’m fighting against.

When I was young, I never would have imagined myself here — never would have thought I’d find myself in a world where women were still treated unfairly. Much like my seven-year old son remarked when he learned of the recent lynching of Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia, I thought our country had moved past those oppressive ways. As a teenager growing up in the 1990s, I fought hard against all things I considered “sexist” (to a fault — I wouldn’t even consider joining a sport if the uniform “required” a skirt, a silly decision that ultimately only removed opportunities instead of “empowering” me). So what would that girl have thought if I knew that one day, in the not-too-distant future, I’d work in an environment where a colleague would publicly make a comment about my breasts… only to receive a ‘tsk-tsk’ from our boss? How about finding out that I’d been working for years earning thirty percent less than my male counterpart? No, my young-adult self would never have accepted that as truth. Allowing myself to be at the financial mercy of a man? Would I ever have imagined that, after giving birth to a third child, I’d leave my job to support a husband’s career, and suddenly, for the first time since I was 16 years old, find myself with no income of my own? And that then, better yet, seven years later, I’d find myself divorced, without a career to fall back on, because I chose (without regret, that is) to stay home with my four children? No, I never would have imagined or accepted any of that. My bull-headed, idealistic teenager-self knew that I was every bit as capable as a man, but the problem is that I ignorantly believed that the cycle of oppression so many women experienced would “never happen to me.”

But twenty-some years in the workforce and twenty-some years of relationships will teach you some harsh lessons about reality. Your skills will be taken advantage of. You won’t get adequate credit for your work. You’ll be sexually harassed. You won’t get paid your due. You’ll be lied to and provoked. You’ll be shamed when you don’t toe the line, and to your great surprise, even women will partake in the harshest of judgements of you.

What’s even scarier is that the culture creeps up on you, much like the viney briar bush. Suddenly you aren’t shocked by comments that are made anymore. You’re worn down, and you can’t keep fighting everything, so you do what have to do to get by. You temper yourself. You flatter where flattery isn’t deserved. You let others take credit for your work, because it’s just easier that way. You limit the situations in which you truly speak your mind. You lower your expectations, and you “play nice.” Because when you don’t play nice, the whole “patriarchy game” begins anew. So that’s what I’m releasing in this fire here today: I’m done playing the patriarchy game. It’s rigged, and it’s just no fucking fun.

Just as this epiphany came upon me, my gaze landed on the early Mother’s Day present my seven-year old son gave me. It was a log he painted that said “Love” on it. He had worked so hard and was so proud of it that he couldn’t wait until Sunday to give it to me. My precious, sensitive, only son (poor boy, living in a houseful of girls), and I began to wonder: is one of the main purposes of my life to help raise a boy who, when he becomes a man, will be strong enough to resist the status quo?

The responsibility is huge, I fear. Am I capable of helping this boy sustain that goodness and purity inside of him? Can I urge him to continue to give, simply from the goodness of his heart, and not because there’s something in it for him? Can I teach him to love — without conditions? Can I show him that he will be even more of a “man” if he is able to accept and learn from a woman who can actually prove him wrong? A woman who forces him to see other perspectives? Those that require of him selflessness, empathy, and compassion? Can I guide him to be able to find success without exploiting another human’s vulnerabilities to serve his own purpose? Can I instill in him that relationships require unwavering trust and commitment, and that he must never allow his ego to come before those qualities? Will he be able to truly find a woman beautiful because he is able to see her for all that she is, and not just value her by what she does for him? Can I ensure that he never dare suggest to a woman that she “smile more,” because she’s “just so pretty… when she smiles.”

Just like I’d be naive to think I’ve gotten rid of the briar bushes for good (there are already new vines sprouting up around the yard), stopping the cycle of injustice supported by our male-dominated society is going to take continual persistence, following in the footsteps of many strong (likely also battle-tired) women before us. Women in the political sphere, like Susan B. Anthony, Betty Friedan, RBG, Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm, and Hillary Clinton. Writers and entertainers like Toni Morisson, Ani DiFranco, Rupi Kaur, and Sarah Silverman — those who are so smart and talented and strong that they are willing and able to use their platforms to call out injustice and then be prepared to deal with the fallout from those honest attacks on the deep-rooted patriarchy. Because the truth draws criticism and hate, and yes, sometimes even women will be those brandishing the harshest of judgements.

This will continue to be a long fight, but I mustn’t (yup, this absolutely calls for a ‘mustn’t’) allow it to drag me down any longer. So, patriarchy, I release you. I’m resolved to be a stronger example for my three daughters, but more importantly, I’m resolved to do my damnedest to raise a son who is “man enough” to rise above you.