How discovering my physical strength helped me uncover my many emotional truths

There's one thing that I admire about Donald Trump: He doesn't care what other people think because he says what's on his mind. 

*crickets*

No, really, hear me out: that's his shtick and for better or worse, it's his calling card. Sure, he's brazen, disrespectful, racist, classist, misogynistic, etc. I would never, ever, ever in a million years vote for him or support him in any way. And to a certain extent, I even wonder how much of what he says he actually believes. I'm sure that there's a kernel of conviction in what he says, but the point I'm trying to make is that he's bold and unapologetic about his comments, however deranged he may come across when sharing them. 

This lack of censorship and willingness to just say whatever is a characteristic shared by many powerful men. Our culture rewards men who speak their minds, and so many men are simply conditioned to speak out because they've never been encouraged not to. Women, on the other hand, are discouraged from speaking out loud, being opinionated, and not caring about what others think of them. Society demands that women in positions of power behave more reservedly, and they're encouraged to invoke diplomacy to resolve disputes instead of boldly taking action and delegating like a man in the same position would be expected to do. 

This is very distressing, and it's very ingrained. These gender normatives run deep into the very fabric of our culture, informing most if not all interactions that occur whenever and wherever women and men encounter one another. Unfortunately, it's not a big leap at all between the way society expects men and women to express themselves and women struggling with poor body image, yo-yo dieting, and the culture of women-against-women. 

Think about it like this: Before young girls hit puberty, they are on an equal playing field with their male counterparts. They experience little shame in the classroom or on the playground, and are just as likely to raise their hand to answer a question in class as their male classmates. Around the time puberty hits however, this changes as girls start picking up on subtle social cues that their stock as women goes up in direct proportion to how pretty they are. They begin to notice, by observing the interactions of the men and women in their lives, social media, their peer groups and the like that women with opinions who speak up and out are scorned and even ostracized. In some cases, women and girls that speak up are labeled as "know-it-alls" "bitches" "snobs" or the most damning epithet of all: "feminist." As a result, society inculcates in young women a deep-seated fear of being labeled as such. This has the added side effect of stifling young women's voices at a time when they're most impressionable, and therefore most likely to absorb these expectations. 

If you are a women who went to middle-and-high school in the United States, you've witnessed this evolution, and likely experienced it yourself. It's a very nuanced process, and something that we often don't realize we experienced until we grow up. At least, this is how it was for me. I was a very observant young person, and I picked up on social cues. I was impressionable, and felt the desire to fit in and be accepted as keenly as I endeavored to do well academically. I call recall the names and faces of all the most popular girls and boys in middle-and-high school, and I remember how much time I spent comparing myself to the popular girls in terms of my physical appearance, personality, and intellect. I remember thinking at various times over the course of those years that the fact that I considered myself "smarter" than most of them mattered very little in the grand scheme of things: what mattered was that they were prettier and in most cases, skinner, than me. This was a tough pill to swallow but nothing really challenged this belief which retained its hold on me until much later in life.

I think many women can trace the feeling of not being good enough back to those impressionable years. It was around age 12 that I tried my first diet and started experimenting with makeup. I'd started shaving my legs a couple of years earlier, and the idea of "working out" and doing exercise to lose weight began to take shape in my mind. Exercising to manage my weight and eating to avoid gaining weight had the subliminal effect of further alienating me from other girls and women. I started to perceive other women as threats, and it was hard to form very strong friendships as a result. I was much more likely to criticize a female peer than I was to congratulate her or lift her up. I realize now that this was all a product of my own deep insecurities, but at the time, these reactions to other women felt like the only manner of self-preservation I had. In my opinion, a fundamental link in the chain of sisterhood is ruptured during adolescence. Not only does this hurt women, but it perpetuates male privilege and helps to maintain the status quo.

These habits and beliefs about my worth as a woman in this society persisted through my late twenties. I don't think that it's a coincidence that I started to recover my voice once I discovered strength training and opened myself up to experience the beauty that is female friendship and sisterhood. Physical strength emboldened me in all aspects of my life, including finding the strength to uncover my inner feminist. Not all women are bold and courageous enough to join a feminist picket line or wear a t-shirt with a vagina on it. I don't think I'll ever be that bold, but every woman deserves to have the "femi-transformative" experience that I did, the vehicle for which was strength training. A woman's discovery of her inner strength performed via the exploration of her outer strength is, in my opinion, a way to resurrect her femininity in a way that empowers her and the women around her. It helps to alleviate the shameful feelings that keep women comparing themselves to one another, and instead unites them under the pursuit of strength.