A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space.
—Albert Einstein
As Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset said: “I am I plus my circumstances.” In earlier lessons, we explored the “circumstances” of our family stories about love, but it is also the case that the circumstances of our zeitgeist—the place and time in which we live—also shape how we feel about ourselves and our intimate relationships. For example, an unmarried twenty-five-year-old woman in the United States in the 1920s would likely have been in a full-blown panic (or at least her parents would have been) about her marital status. Today, it is normal to be twenty-five and single.
Our culture sends us messages about who and when and how to love—messages that shape how we feel within our skin, how we make choices about intimate relationships, and how we feel about those choices. Many of us are blindly guided by sweeping cultural “shoulds.” But when we are able to name how cultural messages and stories live within, we open up new possibilities for how we feel and how we relate to our intimate partners. When we are able to discern where and when and how cultural stories mesh with our own deep truth, we put ourselves in charge of our love life. But that’s easier said than done because our culture is the air we breathe day in and day out, seeping into our pores without us even noticing. The goal isn’t to escape our cultural context. Because consciousness facilitates choice, the goal instead is to decide whether a particular cultural message limits us or supports us. Nowhere are these external voices louder than around our shared cultural stories about autonomy versus connection and about gender norms.
The desire to love and be loved is woven into our DNA. Connection is our default setting. But it’s not quite that simple, is it? In addition to connection, most of us crave solitude, independence, and freedom. When the desire for connection competes with the desire for autonomy, we can end up feeling lost and anxious, asking questions like:
There’s no doubt that navigating these seemingly opposing forces—the desire for connection and the desire for autonomy—is easier when we trust what is inside of us. In order to trust what is within, we need to first name the external messages that we take in about how connected or autonomous we “should” be. Then, we need to connect with the impact that those messages have on us. It is only when we have identified these external messages and figured out how we feel about them that we are freed up to choose a path that make us feel good, authentic, and whole.
American culture prizes independence. Sociologists classify cultures on a spectrum from valuing the individual (individualistic) to valuing the community (collectivistic), and the United States falls squarely on the individualistic end of that spectrum. In contrast, Asian, South American, and African countries tend to fall more toward the collectivistic end of the spectrum. A student of mine who spent her early years in a collectivistic culture and immigrated to the United States as a teen explained to me that when she thinks of her “self,” she thinks of her family. Her sense of self is inextricably and deeply bound to her family unit. When faced with decisions, she thinks primarily of the impact of her choices on her family and is guided by that.
Of course, people born and raised in the United States factor in others and feel a sense of loyalty to family, but we value standing on our own two feet and being our own person. This makes perfect sense since the United States was formed in order to escape the control and domination of England. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It’s right there! We prize freedom and the ability to chart our own course. Do I believe that the words of the US Constitution play in our heads as we are falling in love? No. Do I believe that growing up in an individualistic culture affects our choices in our intimate relationship? Yes.
Clients and students often express worry that falling in love means risking “losing myself”—a concern that makes sense in the context of an individualistic culture. Valuing individualism can make us feel squeamish about the fact that falling in love means becoming dependent on another person—emotionally, pragmatically, and financially. The dependence, or really, interdependence, goes in both directions. Love requires the cocreation of a we—something bigger than the two individuals. The we has needs different from the needs of either individual. The we must be nurtured and tended. And the we provides benefits: comfort, a home base, and shared resources.
If we want to bravely and humbly honor both the need for closeness and the need for independence, we must peek through the gender lens. Traditionally, we talk about women as sitting on the commitment-craving end of the spectrum and men hanging out on the commitment-phobic end of the spectrum. While this is certainly a sweeping generalization, it does reflect our cultural stories about masculinity and femininity. This concept could be an entire book unto itself, so I will just offer a simple (and silly) example of how we “load” masculinity with independence/autonomy and we “load” femininity with dependence/connection. Walk the aisles of your local costume store in October, and you are sure to find a bride costume designed for a girl to wear. But I would bet you any amount of money that you will not find a groom costume designed for a boy to wear.
From the first days of their lives, boys are flooded with stories that encourage them (more like force them) to be independent, to stand on their own two feet. “Don’t cry.” “Man up.” “Don’t back down.” Think about the words that are used to shame a boy or a man for showing vulnerability, dependence, or need: “sissy” and “girly” (there are more graphic ones, but I’ll leave it there…). These gender-loaded words encourage hypermasculinity and degrade that which is associated with femininity: softness, connection, dependence.
Times are changing. Our continued efforts to embrace people whose sexualities and gender identities have been marginalized and oppressed serve all of us. The degree to which each of us can embrace all of the manifestations of what we call masculine and feminine is the degree to which we can live with increasing authenticity and integrity. Strict gender binaries relegate us to being “half-humans.” In fact, the mere act of labeling desires, thoughts, and behaviors as being either “masculine” or “feminine” puts us into boxes that just don’t fit. We need and deserve access to the full spectrum of human experience.
We all yearn for power and control. We all have the potential to be aggressive and violent. We all have longings to nurture and care for others. We all crave intimacy and closeness. These are all part of the human experience. And…there’s nothing like an intimate relationship to bring each and every one of these longings out in full force! In order to create a sustaining and happy intimate partnership, you must be able to embrace all of your so-called “masculine” energy and your so-called “feminine” energy. And you also must be willing to tolerate, accept, and embrace the same in your partner. When you find yourself falling back on a cultural gender story, be willing to look inside and ask yourself what is getting triggered—stirred up—in you. Do any of these prompts sound familiar?
It’s helpful to view that language as a little red flag and then ask yourself:
We are most at risk of using a narrow gender (ex. As a man, you should…) story when we feel scared, alone, and/or hurt in a relationship. It is usually an effort to make the other person behave differently so that we can feel better (less anxious, less vulnerable, more in control). Connection deepens when partners commit to finding, again and again, a space beyond simple, thin, and ill-fitting stories about who people should be based on the bodies they occupy.
Self-awareness about gender stories is as important for people in the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer) community as it is for those who identify as heterosexual. Each of us has a relationship to masculinity and femininity, because our culture is gendered. In order to love deeply and bravely, we need to be (and deserve to be) conscious of our gender stories regardless of whether we look, feel, identify, and behave in ways that are masculine, feminine, both, or neither.
I took us right to the dark side of cultural gender stories—how we use ideas about what masculinity and femininity “should be” to protect ourselves when we feel unsafe and unsettled in our intimate relationships. But cultural gender stories can elevate and connect us, too. Taking pride in how you manifest your masculinity or femininity can be a potent source of self-esteem (for example, feeling sexy in a dress that accentuates your curves or feeling more handsome with a beard). Elements of masculinity and femininity shape the attraction between partners (for example, being drawn in by those curves or that facial hair).
Willingness to look at the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that masculinity and femininity show up in your relationship opens the door to freedom and flexibility. Use masculinity and femininity where and when it serves connection to self and connection to other. Find a space beyond masculinity and femininity when gender stories are putting you or your partner in a box. A heterosexual female student shared that she loves holding her boyfriend (being the big spoon)…until she panics that it means she’s too “manly” and he’s too “girly.” When she shared this, I felt sad. An abstract cultural gender story had become a little prison, keeping her from enjoying what felt natural and intuitive to her.
This whole topic of gender stories and love hits close to home for me. In fact, my husband, Todd, and I never would have become a couple if I hadn’t taken Introduction to Women’s Studies during my sophomore year at the University of Michigan. Backstory: Todd and I lived across the hall from each other in our freshman year. We quickly became close friends—I was drawn to his sense of humor, generosity, and gentleness. I loved how “me” I felt when I was with him. No pretense. Lots of authenticity. It became clear that his feelings for me were going from “friends” to “more than friends,” but I was holding myself back. The package he came in didn’t fit with my very narrow definition of masculinity. He was shorter than me (and still is). He didn’t own any tools (and still doesn’t). He didn’t enjoy fishing or hunting (and still doesn’t). I didn’t know how to get past that, so I kept him in a “friend box” in my head. Until I took a Women’s Studies class in which I learned that our culture heaps a dizzying number of assumptions and “shoulds” onto a male body and a female body. It was as if someone opened a door for me!
Suddenly, rather than feeling fearful that I couldn’t be drawn to him because he didn’t manifest masculine qualities in the way that felt familiar to me (read: how my dad and step-dad manifest masculine qualities), I had the freedom to get in touch with all the ways that I did (and do) feel drawn to him: his smell, his hairy chest, his touch, his even temper, his ability to solve problems—a different kind of handyman. Becoming aware of how I had internalized cultural gender stories set him free from the tiny prison inside my mind. It also set me free! I could be the one with the toolbox, and I could be nearly six feet tall without apology. Awareness of the sneaky ways that gender stories infiltrate our intimate relationships grants us the space to choose, consciously, what works and what doesn’t work for us—rather than automatically going with what society dictates we “should” do.
We will never transcend our cultural context, but our self-awareness is our trusted guide as we figure out how to live well among a bombardment of noisy and often-conflicting messages about love. “Be your own person!” “Let someone love you!” “Don’t back down!” “Lean in!” Being able to look critically at our culture’s stories (especially about dependence and gender) is a gateway to freedom. The happiest couples I know are the ones who are able to create and inhabit love stories that are good enough. Not perfect: good enough.
As we name cultural stories and connect with how those stories shape us, we can choose a path that honors our unique love truths.
Leaning on Each Other
Take a look at the list of words and phrases below, and circle the ones that you heard or still hear most often in the family you grew up in:
|
Alone |
Together |
Sacrifice |
Mine |
|
Ours |
We |
Me |
You |
|
Us |
I |
Unit |
Independent |
|
Myself |
Family |
They |
Our culture |
|
Our values |
Our beliefs |
Tradition |
Ritual |
|
Individual |
Duty |
Loyalty |
Obligation |
|
Selfish |
Selfless |
Separate |
Commitment |
Take a look at the words you circled, and decide where your family falls on a continuum from individualistic (operating as individuals living under the same roof) to collectivistic (operating as a unit).
|
|
|
Interdependent |
Dependent |
|||
|
(Stand on your own two feet) |
(We lean on each other) |
(Don’t leave us) |
Now return to the words above. Circle the three words that best capture what you value most in an intimate relationship. Are these words similar to or different from the words you circled about your family of origin? What is your reaction to this?
Finally, return to the spectrum from independent to dependent and circle the place on the spectrum where you would like your intimate relationship to fall. Notice where the circle is relative to where the X is. What is your reaction to this?
Sharing Your Gender Story
Meet up with a friend, family member, or partner and take turns sharing your gender stories using the following questions as your guide:
When one of you is being the storyteller, make sure the other person is practicing mindful listening by doing the following:
After each of you has had the opportunity to share your gender story and to listen mindfully, talk together about the following: