RELEARNING TO TRUST WOMEN

Sharing our stories is one way we can overcome patriarchal thinking, figure out what is real, and build a world that is safer for all of us. At Bonds, we believe that sharing and hearing female-centric stories is a vital component of reframing narrative truth. We must shine a light on stories that have too often been swept under the rug and forgotten. Instead of reinventing the wheel, we can also go in search of foundations that our foremothers created. When we don’t hear, learn, and share women’s stories, we can learn to distrust our own experiences.

When Roe v. Wade was overturned, I asked a friend, “when did we learn that we couldn’t trust women?” At what point did we decide that women are not intelligent, spiritual, and moral enough to make the best decisions possible for their own lives and the lives of their families? I have been examining these questions for well over a decade, and in that time, I have re-learned to trust women. However, for most of my life, trusting women was discouraged. 

Movies, music, and television taught me that women were spiteful and gossipy. Those mediums taught me to watch my back because girls were out to hurt each other. When I did see women in movies, it was often related to falling in love with a man. In books, including scriptures, I learned that women were either saintly spiritual giants or evil temptations and seducers of men. 

The underlying message in all of this was that women were almost sub-human in their ability to make decisions, love one another, and lead. But in reality, the women I know are just people doing their best to make it through each day. They make decisions one pant leg at a time and care deeply about doing what is right and best.

Along this journey toward trusting women, I found that my distrust was also formed by invisible rhetoric from my formative years. I grew up in a tight-knit religious community, and the invisible rhetoric taught me that women needed male oversight, guidance, and help. In my community, women’s activities, ideas, and programs could only be done with male oversight. 

All women were led by men, and men presided at nearly every organizational event I attended. Most of my female ‘leaders’ asked for permission from male leaders before implementing ideas for women’s programs. Women would get inspiration but had to check with men before moving forward with any organizational events. Additionally, there had to be male leaders at all official women’s meetings. We were required to have male leaders at all youth camps for teen women. Female ‘leaders’ were also required to have a man in the building during all activities, but male leaders could come and go from any of our meetings they wanted. 

This thinking also extended to my home. I was taught that my dad had the final say in all decisions about my family. My parents were supposed to council together, but he presided and was the leader. To be fair, I don’t remember him ever using that privilege, but I knew he had it. Women in my community were not trusted to be alone in the church buildings, to teach or lead without oversight, and they were not allowed to follow their own inspiration for their organizations without checking with men. 

The result of this type of cultural environment is a belief that other women cannot be trusted to make decisions for themselves. It taught me to believe that men should make rules and decisions, and it is men’s duty to have oversight of women’s bodies, lives, spiritual welfare, and activities. But the women I know are truly competent and trustworthy in making the most significant decisions in their lives. 

To move forward, we need more stories about women who make decisions, who follow their inspiration, and who are brave and thoughtful. Let’s reframe the stories we learned. Let’s tell stories of women who are trustworthy, strong, and revolutionary. We need to hear stories about women who understand their own bodies. Narratives about women who know how to make important decisions about themselves, their families, and their communities. We need to re-learn how to trust women.

To build a strong wellspring of narratives, we need to look back, see what has already been done, revitalize and tell the stories of our foremothers, and honor the past. Our future is far from secure, so we step boldly into a new day. We build the future we want—brick by brick—while we share stories that center on those who have been pushed to the margins. We honor those who came before and those who will come after, realizing that in reality, there is no difference. We are all the past and all the future.

By Dr. Carrie Ann Johnson