THE CONFESSIONAL

For most of my life, I feared being “difficult.” Difficult was the woman who asked too many questions. Difficult was the woman who said no, who did not smile enough, who pushed back. Difficult was the woman who did not bend, who wanted too much, who dared to be angry. In the language of patriarchy, difficult is never neutral. It is a warning label. It says: this woman will not comply. The Archetype of the Difficult Woman For years, I was everything but difficult. I was soft, agreeable, endlessly patient. I understood, forgave, yielded. I gave the benefit of the doubt even when my bones screamed otherwise. I handed over my reality for others to define. But the archetype of the “difficult woman” lurked in my shadow. She was the part of me I pushed down, the one who wanted to say no, the one who felt anger, the one who refused to dim. Patriarchy survives by making us fear her. It tells us: if you become her, you will be unloved, abandoned, punished, called a bitch. And so w...