“Act more ladylike.” “That’s impressive, for a woman.” She’s just emotional right now.”
I have heard these phrases more times than I’d like to admit. From relatives at a family wedding where my brother and boy cousin played Indiana Jones in their suits, but somehow, my dress made such a game forbidden, to adults at my dad’s office holiday parties, and to countless doctors before my chronic illness diagnosis. These words flood my mind, stirring up a storm as I shift tides between the woman I am and the woman society says I should be.
It is phrases like these that teach young girls that “yes” is the best way to smooth rough seas and evade arguments. The unspoken, but sometimes enforced rule that “yes” means less effort, less attention, and less fuss. Always the rule-follower and child whose own heart ached when she saw others upset, I said “yes”:
Yes, I would accompany my friend to the computer lab during lunch, not because I wanted to, but because she had no computer to play on at home.
Yes, of course, I didn’t care which colored goodie bag I got at Emma’s 8th birthday bash because Bree loved pink so she needed it. (I secretly loved pink too).
And yes, I was okay undermining my worth and accomplishments to make others feel more comfortable.
But eventually, I outgrew my “yes phase”. Not by choice, but out of necessity. Throughout middle and high school, I minimized myself – my passions, my love for learning, and my dreams – so that others could feel bigger. It became so routine for me that I forgot I was doing it in the first place.
This all changed in 2021, when a Covid-19 infection left me chronically ill. As my life turned upside down, experiencing new mystery symptoms, medical gaslighting, and friends and family stepping away who couldn’t cope with my new and chaotic reality, change was inevitable. What felt like overnight, but in reality was over the course of a few months, I transformed from being the nice girl who always said yes, and who feared expressing her truth to avoid others’ hurt, to a young woman, steadfast in her beliefs. I began seeking out friendships built upon depth and honesty, not surface-level matters.
One negative aspect of this new mindset, however, was my adoption of the belief that I had to shed all my “softness” and vulnerability to receive respect. Three years later, I reflect on my journey from the notorious “nice girl” to the ultimate female fortress and can’t help but wonder: is there a middle ground? Can women show compassion and command respect? Can women express vulnerability without having their strength questioned? What would happen if we removed the idea that to be a successful female power player, you have to be feared?
If you can’t tell by now, I am huge on hypotheticals. Reflecting on my personal transformations, I can’t help but wonder, if I could travel back in time and replace one mindset, what would it be? If I could meet my younger self, I would tell her that her life will be filled with great adventures, though it won’t always be easy. Being white, educated, and coming from a loving home means tremendous privilege, but being a woman will bring a set of obstacles on its own. She may not understand the depth of these words until she is much older, but if I could leave her with one truth, I would leave her with this:
Asking for what you want is ladylike. Taking ownership of your achievements and demanding a seat at the table is ladylike. Setting boundaries is ladylike. And shutting out the noise of who others say you should be to unapologetically declare who you truly are, might just be the most radically ladylike act of all.