Being a woman means being perpetually lectured on what it means to be a good one. You must be passionate, but not too passionate. Interested, but not invested enough for your knowledge to overpower a man’s. The moment that passion becomes focused, well-informed, and unapologetic, it is no longer admirable; it’s “too much.”
What I’ve learned as a woman is that it’s rarely about tone, volume, or delivery. When people describe women as abrasive, aggressive, or overwhelming, what they are really saying is, “I don’t know what to do when a woman speaks with confidence, and that makes me uncomfortable.”
I am passionate about my studies and my future. I willingly engage in mature conversations with adults about college, my future career, and other topics that some of my peers overlook. I always assumed that my work ethic and determination would be praised, or at the very least, respected in professional spaces like school or extracurriculars.
I share this maturity and passion with most of my female peers, which makes me wonder why this level of intelligence and maturity is mislabeled as a trait limited to adults. In short, it’s because my male peers often lack this trait. Thus, contrary to my hopes, an intellectual woman is most likely to be looked down upon, not praised.
For example, in a recent conversation with a male adult, we discussed politics and foreign policy, which is what I want to pursue in my future. Instead of being regarded as educated or mature, I was met with frequent interruptions, belittling, and the repetition of the words, “there’s no point in worrying about things you can’t change.” To me, it felt like he was expressing discomfort in my knowledge, or that he was subtly telling me to “calm down.”
On the other hand, the conversations he has with his son rarely consist of these sentiments. He is never interrupted. His hopes and dreams are never laughed at or blatantly disregarded. He is allowed to be overly passionate and optimistic.
That discomfort and difference in response is telling. It reveals a double standard so ingrained that we often fail to even question it, let alone call it out. A woman’s passion is framed as volatility, while a man exhibiting the same traits is labeled driven, ambitious, or confident. Men are expected to be loud about their accomplishments, while women are warned that doing the same will make them unlikable and arrogant.
Somewhere along the way, women learned that the easiest way to keep men comfortable was to pretend not to care. Not about grades, careers, politics, or being taken seriously. We learned to preface our opinions with apologies, to soften our language, and to dilute our intelligence so it could be more easily digested.
Somehow, this performance of indifference became the norm, and any woman who dares to break it is a disgrace. Passion is not a crime. So why is it that when a woman dares to take up space with it, society treats it like one?
The real issue is not women expressing themselves and being confident in their abilities and knowledge. It is not women pointing out the systems and individuals that continue to disadvantage them. The real issue is that women are expected to shrink to conform to ridiculous patriarchal norms.
