Reflections on silent rebellions
why silence and introspection are key to changing the dominant patriarchal narrative.
I am here to speak about silence.
No, not the kind of silence that comes from fear, not the silence that comes from being told too many times that you didn’t know better or that your opinions did not matter. I mean contemplative silence, the silence where you learn about things that you don’t know about, the kind that makes you think before you speak, that teaches you to respond and not react, a silence that is directed towards the interior. It is the type of silence that shows you that you will never speak your way into someone’s heart. It is a silence devoid of ego, where there is nothing to prove. It is intrinsically political because it is a silence where progress and change happen.
At the beginning of the year, I made a commitment to reclaiming the feminine through new narratives, and in this reflection I am going to look at why silence and introspection are key to changing the dominant patriarchal narrative.
First of all, I would like you to think of this silence as feminine: poised, graceful, patient, introspective and at the same time assertive, irremovable and powerful. It comes from the interior, from a deep understanding and acceptance of intricacies: it is the birthplace of power.
As a writer and activist, I have inevitably been exposed to the stories of great men much more than those of great women. The women who I learned to have gained power historically, were often depicted as great seducers or destroyers of others, a -dare I say- masculine approach to power. The patriarchy is dominated by a masculine that is loud, it measures the length a voice goes, it is mors tua, vita mea (your death, my life).
I would like you to think of silence as feminine: poised, graceful, patient, introspective and at the same time assertive, irremovable and powerful.
Recently, inspired by the brilliant book Sensuous Knowledge by Minna Salami, I have been considering the interior origin of the feminine. For example, the organ of creation, the womb, sits in the interior of a woman; in silence and in the dark life is created. Watering plants at night is said to be better than during the day because the darkness allows for the plant the time to absorb the water of life for her to grow and progress. In the same way, the perfect metaphor of a silent and rebellious act is female pleasure. Every orgasm, shared or solitary, is a statement against a system that has kept female sexual liberation closed in the fists of power. Around the orgasm is a quiet political battle where pain, violence, and liberation swim together.
Historically, female pleasure was not of relevant importance in sex studies. A male-dominated scientific environment made it so that research on female orgasm remained limited and misunderstood. Whilst it was easier to associate male pleasure with evolution, and therefore study it, the female orgasm, not determining fertility but being purely for enjoyment, was overlooked. Joy is extremely anti-patriarchal.
Joy is extremely anti-patriarchal.
Sex was, and still is in many parts of the world, understood as an act of reproduction rather than pleasure. Women have children, and often die without ever having an orgasm. Yet, the female orgasm carries political power. For instance, in survivors of abuse, often the first thing the body shuts off is pleasure, leaving it in the hands of their abuser. A recent documentary-series called “Las Muertes Chiquitas” (which means small death in Spanish and is how Mexicans refer to the female orgasm) explains just how revolutionary the female orgasm is. It tells an intimate account of women and their orgasm experience, which evolves into a metaphor of revolution, freedom, and joy.
The truth is that female pleasure is scary because it is silently and privately extremely powerful, it is anti-patriarchal and anti-capitalist, and it is not a pleasure associated with consumption. Many don’t know that women can reach more than ten types of orgasms (though we often stop at one and stick to it). This detached approach to female pleasure could explain why women often think that faking an orgasm is more convenient than discovering the intricacies of it.
Reclaiming pleasure thus means making heteronormative sexual acts into an equal exchange of pleasure, contributing to removing that power-dynamic that justifies violence and abuse. Therefore the search, understanding, discovery or pursuit of the female orgasm is a silent act of rebellion because it means regaining ownership of our bodies.
If gender parity existed, the feminine would get more space and silence would mean grandeur. The patriarchy doesn’t teach us silence, it teaches us that she with the loudest voice is the strongest, but I invite you to change this narrative. If we think about it, silent rebellions happen within human bodies all the time and create change, the healing of a wound, the digestion of food, are all examples of change happening without noise.
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