For many women, self-care can be particularly challenging.
Women often juggle multiple roles and responsibilities, including care-giving, household chores, and work, leaving little time for ourselves. In fact, research shows that women are more likely than men to prioritise the needs of others over our own.
But is it any wonder?
Taking time for yourself will easily lead to feelings of guilt and selfishness. The societal reinforcement of the idea that women should be selfless to the point of their own detriment is a complex phenomenon influenced by various factors.
Most societies and cultures in the world today are deeply rooted in historical norms that designate women into the roles of care-givers, nurturers, and home-makers. These roles place a high emphasis on women’s self-sacrifice in service to others.
We can see this in how girls are socialised differently than boys.
From the very beginning, girls are taught to prioritise empathy, compassion, kin-keeping and care-taking. This early socialisation leads to girls internalising the belief that women should by definition be selfless and not require anything, not put demands on the resources of the family.
It’s thought that children are aware of their gender by the time they are 3 years old, long before they come to recognise any other type of group they may belong to (Stockard, 2006).
In gender socialisation, it’s important to distinguish between sex and gender. When referring to anatomical or reproductive differences between men and women, many social scientists use the term sex (Kretchmar, 2011). Gender is a social construct that exists on a continuum, which involves ideas about masculinity and femininity.
The central idea of gender socialisation is that societies have their own ideas of what gender is. People and cultures throughout the world recognise that there are different gender groups and they have assigned, habitual or “evolutionarily preferable” roles and responsibilities. Gender roles and norms are the stories we tell ourselves about what men and women should be, how they should behave.
Through gender socialisation, children develop their own beliefs about gender and ultimately form their own gender identity. You may not be consciously aware of the gender norm decisions that you make — at least not until the day you find something to challenge your assumption.
The parents are typically the first socialisation of gender that you experience as a child. And it may have begun as soon as your parents found out whether you were a boy or a girl. Maybe they painted your room pink or blue and bought clothes “appropriate” for your gender.
The language they used around you also reflected the gender socialisation they were imparting on you. Girls are often described as “pretty” and “delicate”, while boys are “strong” and “boisterous”. You picked up on the language people used around you and inferred things you should and should not be based on that language.
If you were like me, you couldn’t find peace in the expectations set for your gender. And maybe like me, you rebelled against those gender norms by swinging the other way, adopting traits, behaviours or ways of dressing from the other gender — because in a patriarchal, binary view, there are only two — and got shit for not being or looking like the rest of your gender.
Maybe you also were rebellious without being sure what exactly it was you were rebelling against, because gender constructs are nebulous and insidious when you’ve picked up this information through osmosis. Obvious gender norms, such as women only wearing skirts, are easier to identify and defy than subliminal messages only present in subtext and backhanded comments.
And the gender socialisation continues into adulthood.
Society places different expectations on women than men. As a woman, you’re expected to effortlessly fill multiple roles — wife, mother, career professional and care-giver — while men get to sit back and enjoy being the bread-winner. Now, these are archetypes, I’m not saying that every man just goes to work and fathers children in his spare time. But it happens and has happened enough times that it forms an overarching pattern, where society’s systems are built in a way that favours men and male careers.
As a woman, you’re expected to sacrifice your career trajectory if you want to have children. I’m telling you, if men routinely had to be out of the workplace to physically facilitate the existence and survival of next generation, they’d come back to financial bonuses, increased social status, and trophies. Hell, if men got periods, they’d get a paid week off every month, because going about life as if everything’s fine while you actively bleed sucks. It fucking sucks. And it hurts.
This system of inequality ensures women have less or limited access to resources, opportunities, and decision-making power. In this context, women may feel compelled to prioritise the needs of others as a means of survival or to navigate societal expectations. Because when you know that your survival and success are dependant on someone else (a man or male system), you can’t be faulted for identifying how the game is played and making the most of your next move.
Arguing that women need to stand up to this system of oppression, does little good as well. When all the decision-making power is concentrated in a smaller group of people (men), you can’t enact change unless you enter that sphere of power. Systemic change is never down to just one person’s actions. It’s a large and complicated process that requires time and building on gradual changes over longer periods of time. It’s neither fast nor easy.
Women are fiction’s life support system – buying 80% of all novels. But as a major new book argues, their love of an emotional truth has been used to trivialise the genre.
— Joanna Thomas-Corr, “Without women the novel would die: discuss”
Back in 2005, British author Ian McEwan conducted an experiment.
He and his son waded into the lunch-time crowds at a London park and began handing out free books. Within a few minutes, they had given away 30 novels. Nearly all of the takers were women, who were “eager and grateful” for the freebies — every woman asking for three — while the men “frowned in suspicion, or distaste.” The inevitable conclusion, wrote McEwan in The Guardian newspaper: “When women stop reading, the novel will be dead.”
Maybe McEwan’s prognosis is hyperbole. But only slightly. Surveys consistently find that women read more books than men. Women are not only keener buyers of fiction – surveys show they account for 80% of sales in the UK, US and Canadian fiction markets – far more women than men are literary festival-goers, library members, audio book readers, literary bloggers, and members of literary societies and evening classes.
It’s also mainly women who teach children to read, both at school and at home. Women are also the ones who tend to form book clubs – often actively shutting out men. With the way men infantilise women who read, it’s no surprise.
The history of fiction has always been a history of women reading. From the 18th century, the novel itself was aimed at a new class of leisured women, who didn’t receive formal education in science, finance or politics. Of course, the male writers and critics who wrote, appraised and published the first novels legitimised the form, but were quickly overtaken by women writers.
For women, these stories became a way of fantasising about their own relationships and narratives that allowed them to change their subordinate position to men. It became a way for them to learn about the lives and thoughts of other women.
Taylor, emeritus professor of English at the University of Exeter, surveyed more than 400 female readers to see how they relate to fiction. The responses are striking in their violence and intensity, in the sin and guilt associated with reading, as well as the defiance. One mother described how she tells her family that she is going downstairs to sort the laundry just so she can steal 10 precious minutes with a novel.
— Joanna Thomas-Corr, “Without women the novel would die: discuss”
Reading is the ultimate form of self-care.
Reading offers a solitary activity that can be done on my own terms, at my own pace, without any judgment or external expectations. It allows me to escape from the stresses of daily life and enter into another world.
Whether it’s a gripping mystery, a heart-warming romance, or a thought-provoking memoir, books can transport me to another place and time. This escape can be especially beneficial when I’m feeling anxious or overwhelmed. Getting that temporary break from reality by escaping into fantasy is a valid way to get through life.
Growing up, I was told time and again that I “can’t live in books”, but now, as an adult, I’ve found that life is just so much better when I’ve got my head in fantasy-land. It doesn’t prevent me from dealing with daily life, in fact, it makes me better equipped to do so.
Reading helps me process my emotions. When I read about characters going through similar experiences or feelings as I do, I feel less alone and more understood. This can be particularly cathartic when struggling with mental health issues or difficult life transitions.
Reading improves my cognitive function and mental health. Studies have shown that reading can reduce stress, improve brain connectivity, and even reduce the risk of cognitive decline in later life. It boosts empathy and increases my ability to understand and relate to others.
Reading is also a form of self-reflection and personal growth. When I read about different cultures, perspectives, and experiences, I broaden my own understanding of the world and challenge my biases and assumptions, leading to greater self-awareness and personal growth.
And despite being a solitary activity, reading can be a way to connect with other people. Joining a book club or discussing a book with a friend can be a great way to build relationships and foster a sense of community.
Self-care is not selfish.
By taking the time to read and prioritise my own needs, I improve my mental health and well-being, which in turn benefits those around me. I’m a better person when I’m not exhausted and mentally strung out, I have more patience and I can face the challenges in life with grace.
Taking care of myself is essential for maintaining a healthy and balanced life, and reading is the perfect way to disconnect from all the demands and responsibilities I’m shouldering daily. Reading is a slow activity by design and it forces me to set the rest of the world aside for a spell. And by practising self-care, I better fulfil my roles as caregiver, partner, professional etc. because I intentionally set time aside to take care of me, refill my own mental and physical resources.
So, the next time you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, darling, pick up a book and take some time for yourself. Your heart, mind and soul will thank you.
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