Addison Walker – Contributor

The other day, I was in a study room with friends, when the conversation drifted to the kind of nights you laugh about, but wouldn’t necessarily advertise. I told a story, and my friend looked up from his laptop and said “Do not tell your future husband that.” 

He said it like there were rules for what makes a woman lovable, and I had just violated one. 

I argued briefly, then laughed it off. What else do you do when someone says something so confidently outdated? But later, it got to me. I must have been so surrounded by my girlfriends lately that I had the audacity to forget that men and their unsolicited opinions still exist. 

It’s the least surprising and yet most exhausting truth that women’s lives are still up for review. We’re expected to have stories, but not those stories. No matter how much progress we claim to make, women’s pasts still seem to come with fine print. 

However, when a man has a wild night, it somehow adds to his “experience” and makes him more appealing. But for women, it becomes a flaw; she’s suddenly not “wife material.” 

The truth is, many men are digging their own holes. People say women’s standards are too high, but what about men’s? Their idea of “wife material” hasn’t changed much since the past, just dressed up in modern language. Men want someone confident, but not outspoken, interesting but never complicated, and preferably someone who hasn’t been around the block. It’s a contradiction that keeps them lonely in a system they built themselves. That said, being a woman feels like a lifelong PR campaign – constantly shaping how you’re viewed. 

So, when can women live without their pasts being used against them?  Is it when enough time has passed that our so-called “crazy phase” finally turns into something people laugh about overdefending? 

But who cares what men think, right? A lot of us women don’t, but isn’t it kind of always there anyway? That small, stubborn voice shaped by centuries of being watched and defined. I’d love to say I don’t care, but it’s always there, even in something as small as walking home alone or deciding how honest to be in conversation. The voice isn’t always loud, it’s a whisper telling you to soften, to smile or not to be too direct when you’re writing an article about it. 

It’s naïve to expect that voice to disappear anytime soon. But as women, we can decide how much it matters and turn down the volume when it starts to drown us out. And if any men are reading this, it’s not about defending women from judgement, it’s about questioning why judgment ever felt natural in the first place.  

I started writing this in a wave of feminine rage, trying to get my thoughts out, and I know they’re not revolutionary. It’s strange how we all know yet still measure ourselves against the same invisible standards. They seem to shapeshift, with some days feeling them more than others. 

So, if you ever start to wonder whether you’ve lived too loudly or have to bite your tongue when talking about your past, remember it’s not you, it’s the standard convincing you to doubt yourself again. They tell you to know your worth, then throw on a discount tag…. but you don’t owe anybody a receipt for how you live your life. 

If the guy who inspired this saw me writing this, he’d probably say I’m being dramatic…but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?