The cheeks are red, the head is hot, the wish: to be invisible. Those were women long enough. Time to become visible – and free yourself from female shame.
I sprained my back. The moment I wanted to get a teacup out of the cupboard for my sick friend. I can hardly breathe because of the pain, but I have enough air to apologize. “Sorry, I’ll be back soon!” I hear myself telling him. Is it still okay? I want to say to myself, while I’m ashamed of being ashamed and apologizing for it too.
I often feel ashamed and sorry for things that I shouldn’t be ashamed or sorry for. See pain, whether in the back, head or abdomen. The word “shame” has its roots in the Indo-European “kam,” which means “to conceal.” I bury my defective parts – and my femininity when it offends the patriarchy.
In her book “Sorry not Sorry,” author Anika Landsteiner observes her shame. Even when she comes to the hospital with two cysts – one of which has burst – she is embarrassed:
For still checking my pain despite the diagnosis. Are they legitimate? It’s better to ring the doorbell next door and apologize for disturbing the peace on Sunday evening! I’m just a woman who bleeds a little.
As a woman, you grow up feeling ashamed of the part of your body that ensures the reproduction of our humanity. And to apologize for it.
The gender shame gap protects the patriarchy
Behind my shame is often the goal of not wanting to attract attention. No trouble to make. Just like women have learned over centuries. I call the psychologist Tanja Michael to talk to her about my, our, female shame. She explains that the feeling is often acquired – for example, if as a girl you don’t fit a certain gender role: “Since we still live in a patriarchal society, rules of behavior towards women are also enforced through shame. Be it because you are dressed incorrectly, too revealing, not revealing enough, loud, too quiet.”
So shame tendency is not objective. What and how much we are ashamed depends on our personal experiences, upbringing and socialization. Shame is individual yet collective. Women tend to feel more ashamed than men, like one study of the psychologist Dr. Wolfgang Kalbe showed in 2002. In addition to pay, care and pain, are we also dealing with a gender shame gap in our society?
Shame is a wonderful way to hide the fact that the prevailing patriarchy does not work for fifty percent of the world’s population. After all, it often stops us from demanding justice. Whether it’s asking for a higher salary, a fair distribution of care work, receiving a gender-sensitive diagnosis or simply being taken seriously. All things that we are entitled to.
Red Guide: The positive side of shame
If we start to question what we are apologizing for, what we are ashamed of, can’t our constant apology become a guidepost for us? To a society in which we have a fixed place without our existence being intruded with a “Sorry, may I?”
There’s just one tiny problem: When we are shamed by the patriarchy for our needs, we inevitably have to go through the shame to get them met.
But I hate shame. The feeling is so uncomfortable that I try to avoid it as much as possible. So I get help from Ms. Michael again: “Some people are more sensitive to shame than others – and I say: that honors you as a person,” she encourages me. Great. After all, people who don’t feel any shame aren’t the most pleasant people to be around, and the feeling is also “prosocial” and basically positive. Unless it limits us. So for women it’s time to get uncomfortable. But how?
Anger is more constructive than shame when it comes to demanding justice
In order to prepare myself for a shame-free future, I first travel back in time. The psychologist says I should remember my own childhood: “When a mishap happens to a child, you stroke their head, press a kiss on the forehead and say: That’s not bad, I still love you.” The antidote to shame is comfort. And you can give this to yourself regardless of your age: “You can learn to comfort yourself as an adult, which is very effective against shame.”
I want to try it. And you don’t have to wait long until shame comes knocking. Rather, she rumbles in while I’m sitting at the doctor’s next time. I’m ashamed when, when asked what’s wrong, I sheepishly answer: the same as always. For still being in pain. Because the migraine therapy that was ordered didn’t work for me. That I’m simply no longer satisfied with the words “it’s just hormones” and the advice that “it’ll get better if you have children.” I feel pushy, hypochondriacal and complicated.
I take a deep breath and think of Ms. Michael. Imagining myself as a small child feels strange at first – and of course makes me uncomfortable. I do it anyway. Something stirs within me: compassion. And a tiny bit of anger. I don’t just want to stroke the child’s head, I want to take him by the hand and encourage him: Hello?! It is your right to want to live pain-free. And that’s what we’re fighting for now. My voice becomes firmer. I’m less ashamed, but I’m angry, which I’ll be ashamed of later, but at this moment I don’t care: anger is more constructive than shame when it comes to demanding justice.
Isn’t it much easier together?
The method has an effect that I already know from other situations: If we look at feelings separately from ourselves and in others, we are much kinder.
If a friend is sad, I comfort her. If she is treated badly, I will support her.
The next time we feel ashamed because we are inconsistent with our gender roles – because we are bleeding, emotional and angry, demanding more money – let’s express this shame. Not only to our inner child, but also to our friends. And then let’s pat each other on the head a little sheepishly to get ready to declare war on the shame – together.