Contextualizing Femininity

by Katherine Wu, Adlai E. Stevenson High School '21

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Artwork by Michelle Sze, Del Norte High School '21

When I first peered into the deep green eyes of my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Shannon, I knew that I wanted to be her. Her dark lashes swept the air each time she blinked and I couldn’t help but stare at her perfectly manicured nails and sparkly diamond ring, with never a hangnail in sight. She was skinny enough to sidle through a gate and as a chubby-cheeked kid, I was fascinated. She spoke gently and quietly and I never once saw her soft smile erupt into a shout or frown.

And thus, my image of what a woman is became inextricably linked to beauty and tenderness, and interchangeable with femininity. You must be quiet during conversations, remain calm and smile through disasters, and act gracefully—no exceptions. And this behavior, of course, was preparing you for the future, the epitome of womanhood: marrying and having kids.

However, the issue with viewing femininity and womanhood as equals is that the singular word and the narrow scope of what society sees as feminine defines you. Your identity becomes a question of how beautiful you are, how deer-like you are. Shyness and deference are put on a pedestal and confidence in yourself and your ideas are buried.

Throughout elementary school, I cast my eyes down on my paper during every discussion and shrank down in my seat in the hopes the teacher wouldn’t call on me, even though we both knew I knew the answer.

I didn’t want to be smarter or louder than the boys in my class; I didn’t want to be viewed as manly. I simply wanted to be a girl.

In the fifth grade, on Saturdays my mother slept in, I’d wake up early and tiptoe to her bathroom. I’d grab as many makeup pencils, palettes, and brushes as my grubby fingers could hold before sprinting back into my bathroom and dumping my loot across the countertop. Then I’d go to work painting my face, copying the dramatic look of the stunning blondes that Google rendered “pretty.”

I thought I was on the path to womanhood. I should’ve been ecstatic, but I was unhappy. Despite all my best efforts to craft a deliberate image of femininity, to slip seamlessly into my identity as a woman, I felt empty inside. My femininity was only a phantom of my real self because I didn’t know who I truly was in the slightest. Realizing this terrified me.

So after yet another year of the same comment inscribed on my report card, “Katie is a great student, but she’s awfully quiet during class,” followed by my parents’ annual plea for me to speak up during class, I finally relented in fifth grade. I accepted that I could never be as perfect as Mrs. Shannon.

But oddly enough, as I answered the questions that nobody else raised their hands for, I became more confident in my intelligence rather than my femininity to define me as a woman. I felt more content with myself and my identity as my escapades to loot my mother’s makeup drawer halted. I was no longer fixated on stuffing my personality and ambitions into the restrictive box of femininity because being a woman is so much more than that.

Rather than idolize Mrs. Shannon, I turned to other women as role models. I was a daily viewer of the Ellen Show and came to admire Ellen DeGeneres greatly. She isn’t traditionally feminine, with her pixie cut and collared shirt, but to me, she’s still the epitome of a woman. She’s outspoken, witty, and has carved a unique identity with whom viewers such as myself have fallen in love. If she was a shy, hesitant host would her show still be running?

And rather than sit comfortably and relish in her success, she uses it to help those in need whether it be in the form of a new minivan or a check for one thousand dollars. Ellen Degeneres doesn’t care how other people view her or if they disagree with her; she casts femininity and traditional barriers aside in pursuit of her passions and helping others.

I began applying this principle in school. I spoke more frequently and with greater confidence, making jokes in class and allowing sarcastic remarks to leave my lips. I made many new friends and became the girl boys approached if they had a question with their algebra homework. I sensed newfound respect for me in many of my peers, the respect I was looking for when I chased femininity in my pink skirt and sparkly shoes.

I felt more like myself and more like a woman than ever before, yet it had nothing to do with femininity and everything to do with intelligence and confidence. Looking forward, I have very ambitious goals. Pursuing a doctorate, conducting research, and obtaining a position of leadership would never have complied with my past view of being a woman. And it’d be a pity to let a view so narrow define who I am and what I can do.

So instead I no longer see femininity and womanhood as interchangeable. Femininity is only the superficial layer wrapped around the soul that makes one a woman. And while dressing pretty and wearing makeup doesn’t make anyone less of a woman, it doesn’t make anyone more of one either.

But for some, femininity is what empowers them to be true women, giving them the confidence and respect for themselves necessary to pursue their passions and speak their mind. And in these cases, flat irons and high heels are a symbol of strength and achievement.

With time, I came to understand the difference between empowering femininity, for myself and my confidence, and toxic femininity, for society’s expectations which smothered my childhood ambitions. Nowadays I enjoy fashion, facemasks, and occasionally putting on makeup, but I don’t need these to be a woman. That comes from myself, not anything I put on.

Ultimately, femininity is an individual’s choice, not society’s. It can adorn womanhood, but cannot define the strong, intelligent, passionate women who will change the world.