Making peace with womanhood

For years I have grappled with the idea of “Women’s Day” and how to celebrate it. Or what aspects of it to celebrate because for the most part, womanhood is still a burdensome construct.

I remember for a few years I jumped onto that bandwagon of attending high teas in high heels. I sat through a tirade of speeches from women who had “made it” — women who had broken boundaries in a man’s world. We applauded them, we lauded them, only to discover some of those women were beaten behind closed doors.

It was a harsh reminder that while we made strides in one avenue, we remained oppressed in others. We still had to reckon with workplace marginalisation, unequal pay, non-recognition of our domestic labour beyond our 9-to-5s.

They had said we could have it all: the education, the careers, the families, the success, but they didn’t tell us we had to juggle furiously. Or that on many occasions we would drop the ball and fold with exhaustion.

You gracefully exited the rat race because you were tired of being the poster girl for successful womanhood. Now you have made peace with having it all, but not at the same time.

While I love to identify as a woman, it has taken me years to feel truly comfortable in my skin. I grew up in that generation that venerated icons like Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington. For years we were plagued with unattainable beauty standards while riding the emotional rollercoaster of puberty.

Even in my 20s, when I had what was considered a banging body, I was afraid to flaunt it, floored by insecurities. Did I have to wait till I reached my 40s to finally not care what society thought about my love handles or the belly fat I didn’t quite expunge after my first pregnancy?

For years society has tried to impose on us an unwavering standard of womanhood. The women who raised me were staunch agents of patriarchy and reinforced all the negative messaging of that dogma. Womanhood from an early age was a burden and shameful. Menstruation was something to be hidden. Budding breasts meant unwelcome attention from men and you were to blame for attracting it. You were cautioned against wearing “short” or “tight” things because you would get raped.

Womanhood was something to be protected, closely guarded because once violated it would herald shame to you and your family. Reputations, once stained, were often not redeemable. At a very young age you were told about the “good girls” and the “bad girls”. Then girls were pitted against each other in a competition to win the male gaze.

Unfortunately, the lessons didn’t end there; young girls were jostled against older women. Instead of us learning from each other, we were taught to disparage each other. The youthful dividend became the divisive factor. Older women were punted as being bitter and jealous of their younger counterparts and shamed into trying to remain youthful for as long as possible. “You don’t look your age” remains the elusive compliment.

The irony is that while women aren’t permitted to age, there is a freedom that comes with growing older and not caring or conforming to societal standards. It’s being able to live on your own terms, and that is the womanhood I want to celebrate.

Why did it take us so long to get here? We waste the best years of our lives worrying about inconsequential things. There is a lot to be said about finding yourself and speaking your mind without censure or censorship. The mistake we make is seeking external validation in our womanhood from a society that largely despises us.

Celebrate that woman within and allow her to emerge and flourish. The sooner you meet her, the richer your life will be. 

Sue Nyathi is an award-winning novelist with four fiction titles under her belt. She made her literary debut with The Polygamist (2012), followed by The Gold Diggers (2018), A Family Affair (2020) and An Angel’s Demise (2022). She also edited the nonfiction anthology When Secrets Become Stories; Women Speak Out (2021).