No, I’m not a strong woman
Please stop saying that to me and everyone else
OK, maybe I am a strong woman. But I don’t know… what does that even mean? As with all cliches, the term gets so heavily used — vernacularized, if I may completely make up a word clearly not already in the vernacular— that it could mean intellectual confidence to one person and physical durability to the next.
I’ve heard this phrase a lot since my marriage imploded, usually in an avuncular attempt at reassurance. Like, “It sucks, but you’ll be OK. You’re a strong woman.”
I mean, I can lift heavy stuff. My thighs are dense and reliable.
I’m not afraid to say what I think — or maybe I am now. (My world never answers how I expect, so now I bite my tongue sometimes. )
I get up every day, and I go to bed too. That always happens, so I guess I’m strong in my habits.
I’m tallish.
But here’s the thing: Have you ever met a person who didn’t survive a divorce? Like, she just got up one day, poured cream in her coffee and stared at the fridge for a while and then just keeled over? Or she went through a rough patch that lasted the next 40 years?
Have you ever met a person who didn’t survive a divorce? Like, she just got up one day, poured cream in her coffee and stared at the fridge for a while and then just keeled over?
Or have you met a person who didn’t really recover, but only because she was basically just a weakling? Like you looked at her and said, “Well, she developed some bad habits and made some poor choices. She just wasn’t strong.” Probably not.
So please stop telling people we’re strong as a way to sooth us. It’s too much pressure when actually, we just want to sniffle while pretending to read a book in the tub but actually just stare at the same passage for 20 minutes while we think about pain.
How about just: “I know you’ll survive. I just know it because I know that time will pass. Meantime, I’m here for you.”
