Echoes of Belonging and Identity on Stolen Land

Time seems to have slipped away

hours, weeks, days. Josh, it appears,  knew nothing about me or what happened during my week

did the spark we once shared flicker without my noticing

I had forgotten it myself. Tonight

walking amongst people

walking on my own

why do I feel so powerful, so full of life, when I am alone

why can’t I feel it when I am with a partner, with a man

why can’t a man make me feel seen

why do I always feel so invisible in the presence of white men

yet seen and celebrated by women and femmes

so empowered by them

but men make me feel so undesired

with my girlfriends, I feel radiant, confident

I miss the summer I had with Josh, I miss the curiosity we had for each other

I miss the energy he had for me, the excitement, the questions, the enjoyment

instead, lately, I’ve noticed a shift

now, I am dwindling to a chore, something he can’t squeeze into his schedule

an object really hard to fit in

we only ever meet when we’re both so tired, our interactions marred by fatigue

or he’s in a bad mood

he seems to always be in a bad mood, around me, that is

I wanna end things with him

hanging out with him dulls me, shuts my soul off, makes me anxious, i lose myself

my stomach cramps so bad. My body protesting his presence

he blames my anxiety for a lot of things in our relationship

he ends up meeting a handful of my friends in the course of our relationship

I practically beg him to meet them

my girlfriends have an inside joke, that he’s a ghost

I fool myself and say it’s good that we both have lives beyond our relationship

*

Brown women frequently report exploitation by (white) men*1, a widespread occurrence that has been ongoing globally. It is happening (especially so) within the Melbourne scene, but also to brown women in America, England, Germany, you get the jist. Throughout my relationship with Josh, I often felt unseen, a sentiment I attribute to his patriarchal and misogynistic tendencies. The patriarchy, according to Doctor Johri Manjari, with its inherent power and privilege bestowed upon men, perpetuates a social framework where male opinions, experiences, and desires are consistently prioritised over those of women. As Sylvia Walby eloquently describes, patriarchy is a system of social structures and practises in which men dominate, oppress, and exploit women.

How often have we found ourselves captive audiences to white men, expounding on topics they have no business discussing? Imagine if we, as women, were financially compensated for enduring their tedious monologues; we would likely all be affluent by now. Men are good at monologuing because they may believe it’s the womens’ duty to listen to them. This tendency stems from men’s belief in and adherences to the patriarchal norms they were socialised into. 

In The Reproduction of Mothering, Nancy Chodorow examines how mothers shape gender identity and socialisation. Mothers often raise their sons to prioritise their own needs, emotions, and perspectives, while daughters are socialised to prioritise the needs and desires of others. Boys are encouraged to be independent and self-sufficient. This gendered socialisation breeds a self-centred mentality in many white men, who may lack sensitivity to the emotional needs and experiences of their partners. How many girlfriends do you have that are repeatedly gaslit by their partners? Are they confused and lost? They are not alone.

Women, on the other hand, are often socialised to excel in understanding and responding to the emotions and needs of those around them. This societal conditioning cultivates compassion and empathy in women, skills at which they adeptly perform. It is therefore not surprising that many female-dominated professions revolve around care, such as education, nursing, and childcare. However, within relationships with patriarchal white men, this emotional intelligence can become a double-edged sword. Emotions, when expressed by women, may be perceived to be a threat to the patriarchy and its order, seen as weaknesses rather than strengths. Consequently, women who reject or do not conform to patriarchal ideologies may find themselves feeling confused in such relationships. Expressions of the self may be misinterpreted as signs of weakness, perpetuating a power dynamic where the man assumes a superior position. 

This perception of weakness is often intertwined with unconscious biases, particularly among white men*2 towards brown women. These biases, rooted in racist stereotypes evident in white Australia, can manifest in various aspects of life, including relationships. White men may dismiss women’s opinions and experiences, reflecting broader biases in society. For instance, biases in healthcare often lead to negative patient outcomes due to the dismissal of women’s pain. Beyonce and Serena Williams both almost died as they were not taken seriously by doctors. It isn’t a coincidence that they both happen to be black women. I have come across similar experiences when seeking medical attention for endometriosis. Despite expressing concerns about pain, I was dismissed by a male GP, leading to years of misdiagnosis and frustration. I was told my symptoms were “normal” with no further diagnostic testing ordered and the GP refusing to prescribe pain tablets. I would later*3 get an endometriosis diagnosis. The GP’s dismissal resonated with my relationship with Josh, where my concerns were frequently invalidated, highlighting the detrimental impact of biases in white man/brown woman relationships. 

Josh’s behaviour exemplified a pattern of invalidation and diminishment, wherein my concerns were brushed aside. In a truly equitable relationship, both partners listen to each other’s needs and find compromises. For Josh to engage in such behaviour, he would have needed to see me as an equal and a human. However, Jack’s ability to compromise was reserved for his friends, whom he didn’t objectify as he did me. Although some of Immanuel Kant’s ideologies are outdated and not fully aligned with me, his thoughts on objectification remain relevant. When a human is treated as an object, they lose their moral function to the person objectifying and can be used in any way desired. 

Consider a chair – it never complains of fatigue, neglect, or feeling unseen. We maintain a neutral relationship with a chair because we recognise it as an object. If the chair were to suddenly express grievances about not receiving enough attention or being prioritised enough, we would be confused. Nevertheless, we would likely dismiss its complaints, continuing to use it however we pleased because, ultimately, it’s just a chair. In Josh’s eyes, I was akin to a chair – except I wasn’t; I was his very real human girlfriend. This objectification became evident in his dismissive attitude towards my needs and desires, relegating me to a position of insignificance in our relationship. Our dynamic mirrored broader societal issues, where women, particularly brown women, are often marginalised and overlooked, their voices silenced in favour of those deemed more worthy by patriarchal standards. 

Women are often conditioned to shoulder the emotional labour of relationships, while men are encouraged to repress their emotions. Men cannot go to their friends to talk about their insecurities or anxieties, or fears. Women, on the other hand, have extensive emotional resources from their community. I lean on my family and girlfriends all the time. They are with me in every step I make. Brown women have a real community, they come from tribal traditions where decisions are not individualistic but are made with the force of their community. It is something white people crave and try to replicate. White women seem to have been able to replicate a version of this, but white men do not have this just yet. White men think it is only okay to come to their partner for emotional support – but they do not understand the term emotional support very well. They think it’s dumping their crappy mood onto their girlfriend, to being snappy or grumpy, or short with their girlfriend. Oftentimes it is not about the girlfriend, but this is a direct consequence of them repressing their emotions. The woman is then responsible for her own emotions, which the relationship has no room for, but also has to tip-toe around the emotions of the man. Is he having a good week? Can I bring this up with him? It may upset him if I do. Being afraid of how your partner will respond to your needs creates a volatile emotionally dynamic. The imbalance demands the women to learn to navigate their partners’ emotions while neglecting their own.

During the course of the relationship, I often endeavoured to guess the emotional state Josh was in. His behaviour often suggested emotional detachment, prompting me to wonder, was he sad? Why was he sad? Was it because of something that’s happened recently? His communication pattern typically involved addressing a matter once with a reluctance to revisit it afterwards. This created an accumulation of unaddressed issues, or elephants in the room. I was drowning in them. I found this particularly hard coming from an ethnic household where all we do is talk about every single thing. I had all these questions that I hesitated to broach. When I mustered up the courage to ask, Josh often didn’t have elaborate answers. I was left to guess a lot of things in the relationship. Subsequently, I sought to understand my boyfriend through sessions with my therapist. I would feel hopeful and optimistic after a session and plan on initiating dialogue with Josh. However, upon seeing Josh again, I would become nervous of starting important conversations. This recurring pattern of emotional disengagement forced me to consider societal underpinnings contributing to the perceived communication barriers within intimate relationships. Has society failed us? Men cannot talk about their feelings, and women suffer in relationships. I spent a lot of time trying to understand Josh, and it depleted me. I was sad, anxious, and alone in our relationship. All of this thinking made me feel a little insane. Looking back at it, I cannot recognise this version of myself, a version that would allow herself to be treated so poorly, and to continue being in a crappy relationship.

The standards of men are so low that it may normalise damaging and negative patterns. The woman thinks, oh, I suppose this is the best it could get, so I may as well invest and maybe try to change the man. Despite our efforts, attempting to change a man is often futile, leading to further frustration and disillusionment. Unhealthy dynamics continue on because men are emotionally repressed and do not like talking about things – especially to a chair, I mean a brown woman, and so a cycle occurs where there is no confrontation or proper resolution to issues in a relationship.

In essence, my relationship with Josh felt akin to being treated as an object rather than an equal human being. Women, particularly brown women, deserve to be seen and heard in their entirety, free from the constraints of patriarchal norms and racial biases.

*

*1 not all white men. But a lot of white men. 

*2 again, not all white men. But a fair few of them.

*3 by later I mean six and a half years later. Isn’t that way too long for a country with one of the best healthcare systems in the world?