Shaming and Punishing Women
by Elouise
One of my longtime followers, Fran Macilvey, left the following request in response to my recent post, Voices long silent.
I’d like to hear more about your view on “….shaming rituals and periodic public displays of what happens to strong women…” because I’m sure it doesn’t just happen to women, and I’m curious to consider why we do it. What are we frightened of? Disapproval??
I don’t pretend to have all the answers, especially about how things like this happen to men. At the same time, from my childhood on it seemed women and girls had to be kept in their places. My personal fear wasn’t disapproval. It was harsh punishment. Not just as a child, but even as a professional. It was important to ‘walk the line’ and remember that I was not in charge. Today I might simply walk out. But that freedom didn’t happen overnight.
In a recent telephone conversation with one of my sisters, we talked about ways young boys shamed us at school when we were in the 5th grade. Our father also shamed us at home every time one of us was beaten. I was the prime example of what would happen to my three younger sisters if they dared to live ‘outside’ the lines of what my father considered proper behavior for females.
So we shared our experiences in the 5th grade. Both involved shaming by a male classmate. There was no one safe to talk with us. Not at school, and not at home. Each of us lived with the burden of believing we were the problem. The truth, however, is that our young, developing female bodies were the problem. Not to us, but to the boys who tormented us.
Silence about things like this, when carried for decades and magnified by repeated body shaming is like carrying a dead weight in one’s body and soul. Still, the only safe way to get through was to keep our young mouths shut and just keep going.
I can’t begin to describe the feeling of release I felt because my sister and I had finally dared tell each other about this insult to our souls and bodies.
Then there’s the companion side of this dilemma. Often when women stand up and report harassing behavior, they become the subject of investigation. Maybe it was your clothes, your tone of voice, the look in your eyes, the perfume you wore to work today. Hence the silence of women afraid to report abuse of any kind on the job, at home, in schools and universities, in churches, or even in friendship circles.
I’m not saying all women are as pure as the driven snow. Instead, I’m saying that experiences like this need to be unpacked. Perhaps we can change our behavior. Not because what we’re doing is ‘wrong,’ but because it isn’t putting our own safety first. Often we need trusted friends and qualified psychotherapists to walk with us.
Reading books about how to survive various forms of shaming or PTSD isn’t a bad thing to do. We can learn a lot. Yet there’s that internal stuff that isn’t going to go away because we read a book. Sometimes we need a safe person to hear us out and help us examine our feelings and behaviors without blame or judgment.
©Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 June 2018
I’d be curious to know whether there are two questions/emphases in the quote above: “just happens” or “to women” as an emphasis. If the latter, perhaps there is the possibility that some form of shaming is experienced by men (or some of them). As well, shaming is not always directed at women by men – “mean girls” have been in existence from the start and can be equally as (or more) devastating in their treatment. I think I’ve suffered more from women than from men if I think back on exclusionary treatment, cutting looks, etc.
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I assumed this meant whether these things happen also to men. I assume they do. Even so, in my experience the shaming of women is different in most, though not all cases. I also agree that women have their ways of shaming other women. Sometimes it’s done out of a sense of needing to prove loyalty to men who have power. Other times it’s a kind of envy. In every case, however, it’s the damage to our personal sense of worth that needs attention and care.
As for men, I’d suggest that being called a sissy is likely high on the list of ways men are policed, kept in line.
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This is such an interesting debate. Thanks for bringing it into daylight.
Thanks so much for the mention, Elouise!! ((xxx))
I’m watching how your father used you to ‘teach’ your sisters what was not acceptable behaviour in girls.
Which is fascinating and horrific because – your father was defining what was acceptable for you; and – of course, you father was assuming he knew more about the female psyche than you did, and – your father was ashamed of you. He had to have been, to have such extreme reactions. He was ashamed of girls who had nothing to be ashamed about, so… what does that say about his reactions to you?
A lot of the same dynamics come up when we look into the debate around female mutilation and sex.
It’s horrific – and if causes such a lot of damage – when young people of any gender are taught to be ashamed – of themselves, of sex, and of free, liberated expression. It is a form of violence against others, that our ‘family’ control is so extreme, and that children and young adults are taught to be fearful of their god-given gifts and unique beauty.
Soapbox over. ((xxx))
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I love your soapbox, Fran!
Yes, my father thought he understood each of us better than we understood ourselves. Which is more than tragic. I don’t think he ever began to understand himself, much less us or our mother. He was consumed by his own shame, which he talked about more than once–often as a way of getting some kind of sympathy and perhaps deflecting attention from the immediate issue which was his behavior toward us.
At this point I have no unfinished business with him, for which I’m grateful. My biggest issue is myself and what a 70-something year old woman is to make of the remaining years of her life–shame-free. I think I feel another post coming on…..:)
Thanks so much for this response!
Elouise ((xxx))
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Thank you so much, Elouise! 🙂 xxx
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I read this and know how friends of mine have even to this day are still ruled by absent or even dead parents. It isn’t always the father. I have a dear friend whose husband [here in Australia] rings his mother – in Wales -and is weekly fed hate towards his wife by his mother.
But I am so fortunate when I read Elouise’s story. We lived on a farm and I was able to do all sorts of ‘boy’ things [chasing and helping ‘mark’ sheep, milking cows, riding horses, bossing my brothers to build a tree house or rafts that didn’t ever float- ask ‘Paol’!] But unless I was riding a horse dad was not keen on me wearing trousers. He still wanted me to be a girl and I was not allowed to get my hair cut until I was 16. I realise how privileged I was.
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Thank you, Robin, for this comment. Family ties bind us in so many different ways. Whenever I encounter someone who isn’t happy with themselves or with the world or with a targeted population, I wonder what happened in his or her childhood to cause their anguish. One of the most difficult challenges of my adult life, ironically, has been seeing families in which parents and adult children are true friends. I’m ever so grateful to be a friend of my children today. And yet, when I attend a funeral service and hear adult children talking about their beloved father or mother, I have pangs of regret, resentment and even anger. Which is another challenge for another post.
As for you and your family, I won’t say I’m in awe (even though sometimes I am). Nonetheless, I’m grateful to hear stories (usually from John) about your family’s life together. Especially when it involves your parents. It wasn’t an easy life, but from this side of the ocean it sounds ‘normal’ and ‘healthy.’ Not always a lark. Yet somehow the ship that was your family had wise copilots in your parents. And you and your siblings were able to pass along some of their wisdom to the next generation. No family is perfect; some families are more functional than others.
Having said that, I’m also grateful that my family upbringing, such as it was, gave me eyes and ears to see and empathize with people my father easily dismissed or scorned. Which sometimes included me.
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I spent ten years teaching in a school where a majority was from the Middle East. The Islamic/Jewish/Christian ethos has originated here and looking at the Old Testament in particular but much of Paul as well there is a very definite bias toward the male of the species. Sadly I think the Muslim world is lagging a century or two behind us.
When it comes to whether my father treated me differently from the way he treated my sisters I must admit that I never noticed any difference. There are two ways this could be; maybe I looked at this from a male point of view or maybe, in most cases my father treated us all the same. But actually I think he treated each of us, all five, individually and separately. I do not think he ever set one or the other of us against each other. From what you said, Elouise, I feel very privileged. As for my sister and her pigtails and dresses. I always thought she looked quite nice.
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What a wonderful comment about your father! Thanks, John. What you say rings true to what I’ve read in your posts and seen in the photos of your family. You all looked quite nice, in my opinion. I think my father (despite his protests) had a one-size-fits-all approach toward the four of us. Perhaps he was clueless about how to deal with little girls or even grown women. Or, as an ordained clergyman he thought he knew exactly how to deal with us. The religiously-grounded male bias you mention was alive and well in our upbringing.
Do you celebrate Father’s Day in Australia? If so, Happy Father’s Day (this coming Sunday)!
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Yes we do. But not til September, when the chill of winter is beginning to wane. But I’ll take it this Sunday with thanks.
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You’re welcome. 😊
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