Do You Suffer From ‘Nasty Woman’ Syndrome?

Major Symptom: A creative, courageous, empowered woman unable to stop speaking her truth.

I was a nasty child, who became a nasty teen and grew up to become a nasty adult. Now I’m a nasty Modern Elder. That’s a lifetime of nastiness, since I’ll be howling at the full moon next May on my 70th birthday.

The word nasty, combined with woman, sent me searching into the demeanors, words and actions of political nasty women. Always a good target zone.

What do these nasty women all have in common? They shake the status quo. They disrupt stereotypes and create ripples of fear when they gain public notoriety. Especially, if they occupy positions of power. It’s hard to deal with a nasty woman in your face. All those blatant reminders that human beings are equal. Get out of here!

The women I studied and came to deeply admire, sometimes carried the same countenance as my mother of 11 children, when she became fed up with our sibling squabbles. It’s hard enough sorting out pertinent issues, but even more challenging when you have to explain your qualifications or justify your existence in the process. Enough is enough.

Several nasty women in the political spotlight chose to be vulnerable. They had enough courage to stand up for their beliefs and values. This behavior is a role modeling of high personal integrity. Isn’t that exactly what’s called for right now? Aren’t we a bit desperate for skilled, intelligent leadership, benefitting all? So why the nasty woman issue?

There she stands in public view, acting on her own belief system, guided by her inner being. The nerve of it all. Too much confidence in her own abilities. How dare she encroach on male attributes! Let’s take her down a step and blast her with a nasty.

The bullying begins and still she refuses to be ashamed of having a good mind and remains determined to express her voice. These disturbing women don’t know their place. What’s wrong with them anyway? How does this aberration of female personality come about?

The making of a nasty woman.

I can’t speak for other nasties and would never presume to do so. I can offer a bit of insight however, at how I became infected at an early age and have suffered from a streak of so called nastiness my entire life.

When I was a pre nasty, feisty, but somewhat delightful 6 year old according to my parents, I underwent an experience a psychologist would label a trauma. Later on, I would see it as the profound gift it was. I was locked in and left in a dark closet in kindergarten at school. The small ego I was busy developing was fractured by fear.

Divine intervention replaced my fear with a new sense of self, one based on my inner authority. So you see, nasty women can start realizing their potential very early in life, if they have the good fortune to discover their true nature. Once this self realization takes place, a woman’s life becomes her own.

I bucked imposed authority when it didn’t make sense to me. My brand of nasty girl included having too many questions about human behavior. I was considered incorrigible by two of my older brothers, bent on torturing me in hopes of submission.

Of course, this only increased my nastiness. When I was a teen, my mother informed me one of my first complete sentences was when I yelled ‘You’re not the boss of me!’ at my oldest brother. Uh oh, a bratty, girl toddler who wouldn’t capitulate to false authority. Trouble on the way.

I realized nasty could be slung from girls as well as boys. Girls could be downright mean to each other and knew how to wield their influence. Gossip, whispering behind backs, conscious exclusion and other belittling acts were commonplace among girls in elementary school.

We were conditioned to work against one another, especially when it came to our emotions and unspoken social codes. Who was popular and who should you avoid like the plague? Who did you ask home to play and who would require you dropping dead before you ever invited them over?

I didn’t accept these dictums. I became what’s known as a ‘floater’ in school social circles. I did whatever I wanted in my friendships. I played jacks with popular girls because I was highly skilled at the game and could win a doubles competition almost every time. I also relished the company of outliers.

Barbie dolls gagged me, so girls and I separated paths in the doll domain. I ran off to play with my brothers instead. I had seven of them and landed in the middle, with four older and three younger ones. They were building forts and running around like hellions on the loose, which perfectly suited my temperament.

Those forts were masterpieces of construction. I would go on to design and help build two houses in the future. I am the coordinator of our solar, off grid, home construction project taking place right now. Most of the tradespeople are men and if my husband’s around, they automatically approach him for consultations. He informs them right away, ‘My wife’s the boss, you need to talk with her.’ I have to admit a thrill of pleasure when this happens.

So here’s another indicator of an evolving nasty woman. I didn’t accept my gender role. Babysitting? Never! I could barely find respite from children as it was. The idea of taking care of someone else’s kid was my version of a nightmare. I was pretty sure I didn’t want one, ever. Not very girly of me.

If adults ever questioned what I wanted to do or be when I grew up, I’d immediately inform them I was going to explore the world. This was in the 1950’s. A universal response went something like ‘Oh, [chuckle] that’s cute, but not very fitting for a girl. It’s a dangerous world out there.’

I went on to spend years traveling the globe, sometimes undertaking risky adventures and often heading out solo. I didn’t want to be beholden to another person’s desires. Almost every man I encountered on the road bestowed a bit of mansplaining regarding my personal safety. They were quick to inform me I was a walking target, as if I wasn’t aware of that to begin with.

A cramp is created in a girl’s get along, growing up with seven brothers. The male psyche is not very mysterious when it’s played out in your home 24/7. I was never an adolescent girl running after a guy to complete myself and that caused problems too. I didn’t modify my behavior to accommodate male insecurity, including any puffing up of male egos. No thanks. Do it yourself bros. Nasty.

In high school, I was invited to prom by a guy I didn’t want to go with. I turned him down and was honest in my response when he asked why. I told him I knew another guy was going to ask me and I preferred going with him. This interaction was witnessed by his male cohorts and they started dishing out grief right away.

Instead of dealing with their slurs, he turned to me and said ‘That’s fine with me. You look like an Indian anyway.’ Nice. So not only do I get bashed, but I had to deal with his racism too. I had a quick tongue and no hesitation retorting back, ‘Thanks, that’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.’

Hoots of laughter from his group and his permanent bad attitude toward me, was the result. It’s still in place, which I discovered when he purposely avoided me at our 50th high school reunion. Another chink added to the nasty woman bucket.

Females have to build their own self esteem and with the ration of crap we’re constantly wading through, it’s close to a miracle we even get the process started.

Don’t get me wrong. No male bashing here. I appreciate the differences between us. Men suffer from judgements, blame and bullying as much as women. They’re not encouraged to be as sensitive as they may feel. If they harbor tender hearts, they learn to disguise their vulnerability and are often reduced to sharing only when they feel safe, if at all.

If you don’t like what a woman has to say, the solution is simple. Stop reading, watching or listening. And please, don’t dump your trash when departing.

This applies to women too. Sisterhood is very real. We need to support the efforts of powerful women on the frontline. The last thing they need is an angry sister trying to bring them down.

If you want to slam a public figure, ask yourself what you are doing, or can contribute, to make the issue more palatable. We don’t have to accept anything we don’t resonate to, but we can’t keep burning our sisters at the stake.

None of the women I studied even came close to being nasty. They are humanitarians, for the most part. I’m not a nasty woman either. I navigate life through my heart, but make no assumptions how that approach should appear. Injustice and inequality inflame my core. I will do what I need to when I witness it.

The patriarchy is in it’s last death throes. I’m thrilled I’ve lived long enough to see the ‘good old boys’ code exposed and busted for the disgrace it represents. It’s a burden on all of us. Time for a turn around.

Lastly, I want to express appreciation for every brother out there, working to support women in his own way. There are a lot of you and my heart swell with gratitude for your efforts. Sisters, keep shining your light, as bright as you can. I’m with you all the way and basking in your glow.