Internalized Misogyny

“Question for you. I don’t wear lipstick. If I want a light tint, any recommendations? Something that will suit my face.”

I text my good friend first thing in the morning. What ensues is a conversation that lingers long after I have said my byes, made lunch, washed my hair and mapped out the rest of the day.

A few weeks ago, there was a parallel conversation on Threads (which I can’t find now) about women who preferred the company of men in group get-togethers. My response to that was that it was internalized misogyny.

I am a child of the 70s. I was raised on a diet of books from the UK. My childhood idols were George aka Georgina (Famous Five), Jo March (Little Women) and all those girls who shortened their names to sound masculine, wore their hair short and shuddered at the thought of make up. They were often portrayed with traits commonly associated with men – courage, adventure, rebellion and, confidence. There would always be a foil to these tomboy characters – Anne in frilly frocks, long golden hair and a simpering voice.

In my teens and twenties, I cut my hair short (but not too short for fear of my mom). I waxed my arms and legs but stayed away from lipstick, mascara or anything that would be overtly feminine. I preferred blacks and grays and avoided colors like the plague. And, when in co-ed groups, I gravitated to the men who talked money and/or sports as against the women who talked in laws and kids.

In my fifties now, I see it for what it is. Internalized misogyny. In a deeply patriarchal society, women were rarely given the means, resources or opportunities that men were granted naturally. We are products of our upbringing. If all girls saw around them were exhausted mothers and grandmothers lamenting the weight of responsibility thrust on them, that is all they associated the women and in turn their girlhood with. It is natural to abhor and gravitate towards the aspirational masculine traits. Somewhere in there, the feminine was swallowed, stunted, hidden and suppressed to the point where any expression of it felt alien and oppressive.

So, today as I mulled purchasing my first ever lip tint, I wonder what it would have been like if I had leaned into what was natural. What would my twenties have been like if I had sought color and beauty? What if I had realized then what I know now, that confidence and self assurance is gender neutral, that courage and rebellion are not the bastion of men, that adventure is that of the soul not the body? There are no answers as there are no re-dos of the past.

However, my future does look pretty darn colorful.