Girls Can't Have Fun: Navigating Society's Expectations
From the moment we are born, our gender becomes a defining factor in shaping our lives, whether we choose it or not. Biological distinctions mold our paths, determining whether life flows through us (female) or if we seek to pass on our seed (male). These inherent aspects set the stage for societal expectations and personal struggles that often go unspoken.
Growing in a patriarchy the male gender already dominated. While my parents claimed equality, their actions spoke otherwise. The double standards were glaring—strictness for the girls, leniency for the boys. This disparity extended to every aspect of life, from social freedoms to academic pursuits, creating a sense of imbalance and injustice.
When my older got sister caught sneaking out of the house my father took all of her belongings and threw them all out of the house. Kicking her out until my mother pleaded with him to stop. When my brother got caught sneaking out of the house. He did get a stern talking to, there was a lot of yelling, but there were only threats. While these are small differences, they make a great impact. While the boys were just threatened, my father was quick to make action with the girls. That set the precedent of how the family worked.
The Burden of Expectations
Every decision was clouded by the looming threat of shame and societal judgement. The narrative of "good girls" remaining chaste and virtuous overshadowed my aspirations and desires, leaving me feeling confined and burdened by expectations that were not my own.
I lived a life of fear. Everything I did was threatened by the idea that I felt that I was this burden. Fear of getting pregnant. Bringing shame on the family. Fear of getting kicked out of the family. So I did what was asked, I got good grades. I graduated college. I got a job. I needed to do what I needed in order to survive.
While my parent’s choices were set, I planned out my path. Financial independence became my shield, a means to distance myself. I moved far away because of the job which gave me physical distance. My parents cannot condone what they cannot see.
However when entering adulthood, the pressure to conform to societal norms intensified. The relentless pursuit of marriage and motherhood became the ultimate measure of success in my parents' eyes. Despite my efforts and endeavors, the constant scrutiny and judgement. Even living three states away, social media reminded me that there is always someone watching.
Weekly calls from my parents consisted of, what did you eat today, and you should stop posting pictures of you partying too much, you shouldn't’ go out so much, you shouldn’t take pictures of you and other men, people would think you’re dirty. You should meet a nice person, get married and have kids already.
The fear I grew up with morphed into deep-seated doubts and self-loathing about my own self. Why couldn’t I find someone to love me? Why couldn’t I keep the boyfriend? Why did I make the relationship so toxic? Why couldn’t I get married? Why did I choose the career that I chose? Did I put too much effort into making money that I gave up my life? Why couldn’t I be the perfect girl that my parents wanted me to be? The weight of perceived failure in meeting societal expectations became unbearable, plunging me into a dark abyss of depression and hopelessness.
My body Based on Everyone Else
Biological distinctions mould our paths. As a female, the burden of fertility weighed heavily indirectly and directly. Directly life goes through us, it’s a gift to be able to experience giving someone life. But it is also a burden.
Indirectly during adolescence we are taught, threatened, and feared about being a “good girl” which in my terms meant subservience but also making sure our “virtue is intact”. I could get pregnant and have shame brought upon the family. The underlying idea is that I can physically be seen getting pregnant, if I have a baby, it’s mine, and a life is brought out, it’s my responsibility. A man however, can hide it, can deny it, can walk away from it. It can just be brushed under the rug like most situations.
That was this excuse on why I couldn’t do anything risky that could jeopardize my “virtue”. I couldn't have a boyfriend until after I graduated college, because I could get pregnant. I couldn’t go out in high school because if I run into a bad crowd I could get pregnant and ruin my future. If I go into a bad area, I could get raped and get pregnant. Even in that situation, it would be blamed on me. It would have seemed to be my fault (I shouldn’t have been in that area, I shouldn’t have met that person, I shouldn’t have taken that drink. I’m the one that put myself in that situation.). In my parent’s eyes, the only way to protect me was to shelter me. My choice on actually living was taken away from any risk of being pregnant.
During Adulthood, the pressures of getting married and having children were prevalent. I spent my adolescent trying not to get pregnant only for my adulthood to focus around getting pregnant. All so for what; so my parents can be grandchildren? So My parent’s can see I’m a stable whole person? So they can stop worrying about me? How many times they’ve told me, we worry about you. You should get married so you can be happy? So my parents can say I’ve lived up to their expectations?
I’m expected to live and give life out, but only on other people’s timing, and happiness. On and waiting for everyone else. It further justified my mothers advice to happiness is to serve everyone else, and then you will be complete. In my perspective, it was no wonder why I was so unhappy. I couldn’t be perfect for everyone else. I couldn’t please everyone else. How could I be happy with myself?
One day in a moment of truth, I asked my mother, “Would you rather have me married and have kids but that partner was toxic to me, or would you rather have me be single living my life?. My mother said. My mother paused and said, “I didn’t raise you to be in a toxic relationship.”
It’s like I was playing a game I cannot win.
To those grappling with similar struggles, I offer a message of resilience and hope. You are not defined by societal expectations. Your worth lies in embracing your truth, navigating your journey at your own pace. You are enough, just as you are.
