The Femininity Myth That Exhausts Us
Society tells us femininity means being soft, quiet, pretty, smiling, and always willing.
And we often show up this way when we’re dating — because we want to be chosen.
But marriage is different.
As routines take over, the effort we once poured into appearances and attentiveness shifts.
It’s not that we don’t care — it’s that life gets busy, and we don’t always have the bandwidth to keep playing the soft, agreeable version of ourselves.
Sometimes, we just want what we want — without the compromise.
I felt this way recently while out to dinner with my husband and daughter.
We were in Bend, Oregon at a local spot called Cuban Kitchen.
As soon as I sat down and looked over the menu my mouth started watering.
The empanada sounded delicious – a golden pastry filled with seasoned beef, onions, and peppers.
“I’ll order for the table,” my husband said. I agreed, letting him know I wanted the empanada.
When the waiter arrived, my husband smiled: “We’ll have the pollo a la plancha with moro rice and sweet plantains.”
He added drinks — an Arnold Palmer for me, a lemonade for our daughter.
When the waiter asked if there was anything else, my husband shook his head no.
So I spoke: “Actually, I’d also like the empanada.”
After the waiter left my husband whispered: “I said I would order. This is just a quick bite since we’re having dinner at the hotel later. You didn’t need that. It’s a waste of money.”
It was $5. Five dollars.
I could feel the heat rise in my chest — not about the empanada, but about being dismissed.
And then I remembered: my daughter was sitting right there.
If I stayed quiet, what lesson would she take from it?
I kept my tone calm, but my meaning sharp: “Thank you for allowing me to select something to my pleasing.”
Have you ever felt torn between meeting society’s expectations of femininity and being true to yourself?
I have. In my 20s, I laughed at jokes that weren’t funny and sat silent and pretty while catering to a man’s ego.
In my 30s, I stayed quiet in meetings when male coworkers repeated the ideas I’d already shared.
But no way in hell was I going to let my daughter witness me shrinking because my husband decided my empanada wasn’t approved. No.
In the movies, a man ordering for a woman might seem sweet. It’s chivalry. But life isn’t the movies.
As women, part of our frustration — and our exhaustion — comes from the constant pressure to be desirable and agreeable.
We’re supposed to be attentive and quiet and to constantly yield.
But here’s the truth: every time we silence ourselves, we teach others that our needs are negotiable.
So I’ll ask you:
- Where in your life are you quietly dismissing your own needs to keep the peace?
- And what might shift if you trusted yourself enough to communicate those needs clearly, without apology?
Because at some point, the jig is up.
And we need to stop performing.
To honor what we want and trust that our voice deserves to be heard without permission.
Femininity isn’t the endā€‘all, beā€‘all if it requires us to shrink to be attractive.
Our daughters deserve more than that. We owe it to them — and to ourselves — to model selfā€‘respect now, so they have the tools to protect their sanity later.
