One is not born a woman: a personal essay

“One is not born, but rather becomes a woman.”

The opening line of Simone Beauvoir’s Book II of The Second Sex is a cornerstone of feminist theory. 

As a young child, I didn’t think of myself as a girl. It wasn’t that I was opposed to it, but I simply didn’t feel like I fit my own idea of what a woman was. A woman was not a human being. A “woman” was an idea. Something feminine that serves to compliment the default human being, “the man.” Women are pretty accessories. They weren’t presidents, scientists, or historians. Of course there were exceptions, but they weren’t reflective of a true woman, because they were exceptions. Of course, I saw myself capable, so I saw myself as a human, not whatever this mythical “woman” was. It didn’t upset me, but there was a significant disjunction between my self-perception and how the media showed me my gender.

As I grew older, this disjunction began causing a deep unease in my identity. I felt that I couldn’t stop the impending doom of womanhood. Subservience, passivity, and superficiality being forced onto me. I had to fight back. I refused to be “like other girls.” If I somehow differentiated myself, perhaps society would see that I was different. I wasn’t the typical passive woman. I was masculine, I wore basketball shorts to school and shopped in the boys section. I played video games and listened to rock and roll. I deserved respect. Perhaps, since I set myself apart, I would be saved from this unfortunate fate. My thoughts could be valuable. I could be respected. But this did little to deter my fate as a woman. It was inevitable, despite how determined I was to be a “pick-me girl.”  By not aligning with traditional femininity, I was invaluable in a different way. My looks were picked apart by boys at school, my thoughts were nonetheless invaluable because I wasn't pretty.

But alas, there was a glimmer of hope for me. Puberty! My body changed, my face changed, and my braces were off. Finally, men looked at me! The fleeting glance of a man’s gaze was enough to make me feel as though I was important. If I couldn’t find validation as a human being, I’d find it elsewhere. So I turned to my femininity. My femininity had something to offer– the male gaze. My entire existence would cater towards the only value I knew I could reap benefits from– femininity. I spent hours straightening my hair every day, until my natural curls gradually deteriorated. I caked my face with layers of makeup, until my own features were unrecognizable. I dressed in a way that only accentuated the curves of my body. Finally, I thought, respect! Boys looked at me when I spoke, so of course they were listening to me! Boys spent time with me, so of course, they enjoyed my company! Alas, womanhood isn’t so bad. By embracing it, I found value in the facet of my identity that I had so long resisted. 

However, I realized they were looking at me for a different reason. They were spending time with me for a different reason. They weren’t listening, they were simply looking. They didn’t enjoy my company, they enjoyed the anticipation of me giving them a chance to indulge in my appearance. How foolish am I, I thought to myself. I mistook the male gaze for value as a human being. 

I have been cursed by being born into the body of what society inflicts womanhood upon. I am permanently “othered.” Like all women, I have suffered through years of wanting to be listened to without using my actual voice. As a result, I never learned how to speak, I only learned how to listen. To listen to what is wanted of me, and act accordingly. This is womanhood. To our society, womanhood is passivity being harshly imposed upon you. Gender is born from the forces of the external world. Media, school, and adults have worked in tandem to exert womanhood onto me. Gender is, quite literally, the sum of my experiences shaping me into who I am. 

I understand now. Of course, gender isn’t real, but I feel it very deeply. My gender is both an important part of my identity and a fallacy. 

After years of searching for a resource that is permanently unavailable to me, I have finally realized I cannot be paid the same respect that men are. I have no choice but to abandon this search, and begin living for myself. It will take me years to learn how to exist in this body for myself. I am in the process of unlearning all of my passive tendencies. Thus, I have reverted back to my young child self, who isn’t this man-made woman, but rather, a human being. I am starting from the beginning, finding out what makes me happy. Loving yourself as a woman cannot occur until this realization. For the first time, I am not going to listen to the outside world, but my inner thoughts to make myself happy. I will speak, regardless of whether or not my words are valued by this world.

Men were not raised with this same pressure. Men were raised that every thought of theirs holds truth to it. This is why men tend to state their opinion as objective facts, whereas women and gender-marginalized people tend to think with more fluidity to their opinions. We were raised to question our thoughts and opinions in response to the opinions of others.

Despite the damage this has inflicted on us, our enhanced skills of listening can also be a strength. Studies have shown that women assess themselves with greater accuracy than men, who tend to overestimate themselves. A world led by more women and gender-marginalized people will lead to more listening. More humility, kindness, and transparency. A world in which people listen to each other and consider their perspective rather than assert their opinions with rigidity. 

And so, I am both reversing the damage of misogyny, and using my marginalization to my advantage. I am choosing to be both a speaker and a listener. A crucial step for people of all genders to overcome gender roles: embracing both listening and speaking.