Women’s emotions are still used against them

“Believe women” was the political slogan burnt into our minds post #MeToo, appearing on protest signs and ripping through social media with the aim to counteract some of the patriarchal conditioning and institutionalised misogyny that created a culture of suspicion around victims and survivors of sexual harassment, assault and violence.

Writer and author Rebecca Traister called the phrase “compelling but flawed” and notes it is often recast as “believe all women,” which has “enfeebled the far more important argument that we should encourage them to speak more and listen to them more seriously when they talk”. 

And she’s right. We should listen to women seriously when they talk about sexual harassment, assault and violence, but we don’t. The culture we belong to has taught us not to…

There’s a reason you can’t count the number of times a man has called women he dated “crazy” without context. There’s a reason Serena Williams was demonised for behaviour that didn’t even come close to that of her male counterparts. Our society socialises us to see women as overly emotional, hysterical, vindictive or liars. Though society accepts that women are more emotionally expressive than men, the patriarchy ran with this reality and used it to control and contain women; “Yes, they’re emotional. They’re too emotional. And it causes them and us problems.”

Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, “hysteria” was an alleged mental health condition that “explained” any behaviours or symptoms that made men uncomfortable.

Male “doctors” of the time wrote that it was caused by “sexual deprivation” (“I guess they must need sex with men!”), “movement of the uterus” (“we refuse to understand women’s bodies!”) and the “lazy and irritable nature of the female” (“women don’t do what we want all the time!”); all descriptions of hysteria reinforced harmful stereotypes about women.

“Strong emotions elicit an emotional response, and that is precisely why patriarchy works to control them.”

But it’s not just hysteria. Anger – an essential emotional reaction to women’s realities – has long been re-framed by white society as aggression and used to delegitimise Black women and rewrite their realities. Normal reactions to a society which heaps constant inequalities, barriers and struggles onto women have been historically rebranded as “disproportionate” and as evidence that we can’t control ourselves; our tears apparently mean we’re unable to responsibly lead, but powerful men’s anger somehow doesn’t.

It should also be noted that while women’s tears have long been used to infantilise them, white women have also historically used this as a tool to skirt accountability for racism. Women have done the job of delegitimising other women, too.

White supremacist hetero-patriarchy realised centuries ago that if it could control a women’s emotions, it could keep her quiet and small. Why then, is it the case that so many of us need to see a woman cry to believe her account of sexual violence? Why are we less likely to believe her unless we see her cry?

Strong emotions elicit an emotional response, and that is precisely why patriarchy works to control them. And when sexual violence – one of the enforcement arms of patriarchy – is brought into the light, new requirements on our emotions are introduced, too; perform your trauma. Make me believe you. Don’t overreact to the inequality in day-to-day life; just deal with it. But when I’m positioned as jury, I need you to perform it. Show me your fear so I can counter the messaging I’m receiving about victims and survivors. I need you to up your believability.

I have sat in police officers’ rooms, considering whether the tears falling from my eyes would hinder my case or elicit sympathy and empathy. I have pleaded with detectives to take me seriously while crying. I have filmed for news channels as journalists goad me into being emotional, and I have sat in parliament and been advised not to show emotion but to be “professional” while talking about my assault. I have been patted on the back for crying at “just the right time” during a meeting – as if I had a choice.