There’s a certain type of woman we’re all taught to admire: the one who endures. The woman who hides her pain, displays grace, and is flawless under pressure. Taking on anything – extra work, others’ emotions, thrusting ourselves into complete chaos. It isn’t just normalized – it’s praised and rewarded.
As a child of foreigners (raised primarily around Nigerian immigrants), I used to think endurance was strength. Seeing my parents, aunts, and uncles working tirelessly, bending over backwards to provide for their families. My mom not taking a day off, coming home at 6pm absolutely fried, all in the name of “strength”. It starts with wiping your tears, not complaining, working hard. It leads to your inability to show true emotion – being stoic at every point. Then you believe that taking pride in being “resilient,” is noble. A badge of honor. But it’s not. It’s all a lie.
In my youth, I would be hunched over, fever high, vomit-filled basket near my bed, begging my mom to let me go to school. All to get a flimsy white paper sheet at the end of the year with the words “Perfect Attendance” at the top. It was my prize. From there I went to high school, taking college-level courses, AP exams, prepping myself endlessly for a career in law. I graduated college in 3.5 years and with honors. I was applauded. I moved to California, worked tirelessly to make a living for myself, barely taking the time to enjoy my adulthood.
Until the pandemic hit. When the world stopped, so did I. I looked around. The ceremony was over. The lights faded. The audience disappeared. And I? I was burnt out.
Funny how you become the person everyone leans on during their hard days, relationship struggles, and problems – yet when you need a break, no one’s there for you. The people who asked for your help (without caring for your mental capacity), can’t even answer a call when it’s your turn to ask for a favor. It was the first time in my life that I realized there wasn’t anything worthy about the cultural definition of strength. I pushed myself for over a decade and I didn’t feel rewarded. All it did was leave me tired, lonely, and unable to communicate my true feelings – there was never any space to.
Think about how society reacts when women cry publicly or admit they’re overwhelmed. There’s a huge amount of discomfort. There’s judgment. Dismissal.
This obsession with women who can “handle it” – emotionally, mentally, professionally – it isn’t about strength. It’s all about control. Pile more onto that woman, don’t worry about what she’s going through because “she’s strong”. Women are expected to be mothers, caretakers, employees (sometimes employers), providers, carry emotional support, and do it all every day. We aren’t strong by our choosing, we’re strong because if not us, then who else?
That’s where the control comes in. The expectation for women to smile through the pain. Teaching us that carrying all of this (even in discomfort) is a part of our nature. We embody this burden and dare not complain.
The real truth is, I don’t want to be applauded for enduring. I don’t want the hand-over-hearts, cocked-heads, and sentiments of “Wow.. You’re so strong” accompanied by a back rub. I don’t care for the expectations or the applause. Strength to me isn’t burning yourself out and being stuck in a place where you’re a full blown adult unable to ask for a day off or a lighter work load. I had so much apprehension and fear when I started to embrace this. No, I can’t answer your call. I actually have a lot on my plate, can this wait? Or.. I just need a personal day. I was afraid I would be seen as weak, selfish, or problematic.
But my vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s truth. And honestly, the truth is inconvenient.
Strength is the courage to not have it all together – especially when this culture encourages us to do so. It’s setting boundaries and demanding more – from myself and everyone around me. I’m not absorbing the blows or taking on more than I can bear. If my mental isn’t able to withstand the day, then that’s it – it’s just not.
Now, I’m not calling us to give in and weaken ourselves (the world will literally fall a part because women do everything). But I am challenging you to resist this culture that weighs down on our mental without giving us anything in return.
Being strong isn’t stoicism. Speak up, ask for help, or.. just walk away. Don’t believe the lie that our capacity to withstand suffering is what makes us valuable.
We don’t need applause for suffering. We don’t need to suffer at all actually. We need a world and a culture that doesn’t require our suffering in the first place.
