Women are socialised to see male pleasure as their own, and the orgasm gap is proof: sex is often designed around the male orgasm. Men’s pleasure is expected; ours is an afterthought.

Pleasure and love are packaged together for straight women, but love can be a dangerous drug for us to consume. Working mothers are still doing two-thirds of the unpaid labour at home on top of full-time jobs, doing more than our grandmothers ever did, while men do about the same. Is this progress?

Back in 1992, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus taught women that they had to work to understand men to make relationships work. But why was the onus on us to accommodate? We’ve been doing this for decades, and the burden of “understanding men” has yet to bring equality.

Everywhere else, we have rich, full lives and relationships; it’s only in our romantic lives with men that we’re left crouching under the table, catching breadcrumbs and calling it a feast. But with autonomy and choices today, it’s harder for us to shrink ourselves to fit into men’s lives as women once had to.

This disparity doesn’t mean women aren’t succeeding—it means the system was never set up for us to thrive. Historically, structures were designed for men to take pleasure and for women to provide it, through the unpaid labour our bodies and roles have always offered: sexual, reproductive, and domestic.

Our systems—relationships, work, and caregiving—are still structured in ways that often place the burden on women. Men haven’t caught up, and neither have the policies. Cultural and systemic changes are essential, including workplace policies like “use it or lose it” paternity leave, proven to reduce gender inequity.

When I got sober in 2014, I believed that everything I’d done in my drinking days made me unlovable and unworthy of success. Female shame clings to this narrow, untrue version of womanhood—a mould that says, “Be a good mother,” “Don’t be too promiscuous,” “Stay thin, stay young.” We’re conditioned to feel ashamed for anything that doesn’t fit: for gaining weight, for ageing, for making choices outside the conventional path.

I thought that because I’d done shameful things, I was somehow disqualified from being of value or achieving success. I wasn’t that tiny version of what a woman is “supposed” to be.

But on my path to sobriety, I learned something essential: womanhood is so much bigger and more real than the soft, sexy, and feminine ideal we’re sold. The truth of womanhood—especially among sober women—is that it’s big, messy, fierce, and visceral.

It’s periods, pregnancy, and the trauma of surviving male violence. It’s raw, sometimes brutal, and beautifully real.

It’s freeing to let yourself be big and complex, to walk into a room knowing that not everyone will like you—and to be okay with that. Not in a mean way, but in a way that says, “I know who I am, I’m kind and fair, but I’m also human, and I’m done contorting myself to make others comfortable.” It’s not my job to please everyone at the cost of myself.

The things I did in active addiction are part of me, and if I wait for everything to be “perfect” to find happiness, I’ll be waiting forever. Embracing all parts of myself—good and bad—is what makes me whole

The biggest threat to the patriarchy? Women who opt out entirely: single, childfree women over 40. Research shows we’re the happiest subgroup—happier than married women, and ironically, right up there with married men. When we build lives on our own terms, we become the patriarchy’s biggest disruption.

The idea that women hate each other is just a myth born out of scarcity—a false rivalry fueled by limited opportunities. Women don’t naturally compete; the system that benefits men and only allows women one seat at the table pushes us to compete against each other.

When we’re free to set our own standards and uplift each other, we thrive. We don’t need to fight for one “seat at the table”; we can create a whole new table that serves us

One of the biggest mistakes young women make (and I speak as a former young woman) is thinking they’re exempt from the misogyny they see their mothers facing. Too often, fathers and daughters subtly collude, looking down on mothers, thinking they’ll escape the same fate. As Bonnie Burstow writes, “Often father and daughter look down on mother (woman) together. They exchange meaningful glances when she misses a point...This collusion does not save the daughter from the mother’s fate.” It’s an illusion that never shields us from the same system that discounts women of all ages.

The real power comes when we decenter the male gaze and bring older and younger women together as one. United across generations, we can create spaces that value our experiences and support each other’s ambitions without apology. It’s time to turn our focus away from fitting into male-defined spaces and, instead, uplift each other in places where we can thrive on our own terms.

Instead of wasting energy contorting ourselves to fit into spaces that don’t respect us, let’s focus on building our own. Acting small or agreeable to survive in male-dominated spaces is exhausting, and it undermines our real strengths.

Let’s leave behind outdated survival tactics and create spaces where authenticity, not conformity, is the norm—spaces where women can show up as they are, with big voices, big ideas, and all.