The Endless Labour Of Proving Yourself

One of the things that has troubled me greatly in recent years is how women have to prove themselves every day. Over and over again. It should have bothered me long ago, but I became an adult in the 20th century; it took a while for me to notice the cages we were in.

Many women are well capable of doing numerous activities that are traditionally handled by men. Like fixing things around the house. Using a screwdriver or a hammer. Lifting heavy stuff. Plumbing. Climbing on trees or ladders. Driving heavy vehicles. But we are considered subpar at these—actually, considered so terrible that the very idea makes people laugh—and in case we happen to be skilled at it, we need to prove ourselves painstakingly, every single time.​

You might think, I handled something so well today—I proved myself an expert at it; they would remember it.

But no. The very next week, it starts all over again: We need a man to do this. What? You want to try? Ha, ha, better leave it to the experts. Are you going to break your back and create trouble for the husband? Here, let me do it. Okay, okay, try. Hmmm... Okay. Oh. Ha, ha. Must be beginner’s luck.

The condescension, the disbelief, the ridicule and the dismissal. Followed by the universal amnesia that it had happened at all. Very few people are going to say, “She’s good at it,” unless she keeps at it.

Sometimes, you just want to stop trying and throw it all aside, and let them believe what they will. However, you also know that you need to fight it every single time, prove yourself every day; for your own sake and for the sisters. Because that’s how battles are won.

When Competence Isn’t Enough

Remember when women who were doctors were referred to as “lady doctors”? There was an underscore and a patronising tone. 

As more and more women became doctors over the years, we have shed that unnecessary qualifier. A doctor is a doctor. We trust her.

Similar is the case of ‘women drivers’. Any slightest slip happens to a woman on the road, and “It is a lady driver. No wonder.” As though all the male drivers over the past century never made any errors, never parked the wrong way, never jumped a signal, never hit another vehicle, never got angry at another driver, never had their cars stall in the middle of the main road.

And if a woman drives well, parks perfectly, respects road rules and other drivers, and generally does things right, she is treated as if she were invisible.

On the other hand, on three other matters women are expected to be the masters from the day they are born. Which is the other extreme—you’re not allowed to make mistakes. You’re not allowed to say, I don’t like it. I don’t want to do it. I don’t know how to do it.

These three departments allotted to us are Motherhood, Cooking (and housekeeping) and Caregiving. You’ve to excel in all, from Day One. Otherwise you’re doomed for eternity. 

If a young mother does not know why her four month old baby is crying non-stop, the immediate question is: “What kind of a mother are you, if you don’t even know why he is crying?”

She is a new mother too; instead of being judgemental, why not tell her, “it’s okay; this has happened to all mothers”? At some point, at least once, when the baby is too young to convey the source of discomfort, all mothers experience this: where does it hurt? How can I relieve it? How can I comfort you?

She is already distressed, without your insensitive question adding to it.

She will figure it out eventually; it might take her a few minutes. But no, society (usually the person who has zero experience being a mother) decides she’s a mother, she should know everything, and if she doesn’t, she’s a bad mother: that’s all.

A woman once said she doesn’t enjoy cooking and it was immediately translated to mean that she doesn’t know cooking. From there it took off to heights of ridicule: as though her family were starving because of her incompetency. Are you even a woman? What sort of a woman doesn’t like cooking? My mother used to… My wife always…

Some of these darts are hurled in the form of pathetic jokes and it takes all our willpower not to explode: because their attitude is not seen as the problem, our reaction to it is. Whether to speak up for our own peace of mind, or be quiet for theirs: that is the question.

We can argue till the cows come home that what others think or say of us is none of our business but hearing these comments repeatedly is tiresome. Against our better judgment, it makes us question ourselves and shakes the foundation of our confidence.

Every day we need to prove ourselves and every day we need to tell ourselves, “Yes, we are as good as we believe we are. We can do a lot of things right. We are allowed to make mistakes too, just as anyone else.”

It’s draining, and we give up. Then again, just as the sun rises daily, come what may, we pick ourselves up, stand up and prove ourselves again.

There will come a time when women pilots, or women who climb coconut trees, or women driving heavy vehicles, or women wielding a screwdriver or a spanner, are not met with raised eyebrows or disdain or a patronising attitude. 

Until then, there is no other way. We have to show up, prove ourselves, be ignored, dismissed or patronised, flinch and speak up for ourselves or quietly endure, but do it again and again, so that the next generation and the ones after that are accepted, or even received with the respect they deserve.

Jeena R. Papaadi is a writer based in India, with six published books of fiction and poetry. Her articles, poems and stories are featured or are forthcoming in several publications including The Hindu, Borderless Journal, The Hemlock Journal,  Dissent Dispatch, The Wise Owl, Kitaab, European Association of Palliative Care and Aksharasthree.

This article is a part of our ongoing series, Your Monthly Dissent Dispatch, in collaboration with Usawa Literary Review. | Views expressed by the author are their own.