Confessions Of A Male-Centered Woman

The accusation is often aimed at conservative women who defend traditional femininity. Wearing flowy dresses? That’s pandering to the “male gaze. ” Holding conservative political positions? That makes me a “pick-me girl.” As the boss babe has ascended in cultural prestige, the traditional woman who depends on a man has been pushed to the bottom. Consider this my own Notes from the Underground : the confessions of a “male-centered” woman. I happily claim the label that many feminists of my generation have tried to turn into a scarlet letter. I take it not as an insult but as an affirmation of a simple truth: we are made for community, love, and mutual dependence. As a young, married woman, I find proximity to a man essential to my identity and well-being. That isn't a threat, unless you hold sacred the myth of the independent woman. As a young, married woman, I find proximity to a man essential to my identity and well-being. Feminist dogma teaches us that marriage is a side dish on the menu of meaningful pursuits. For women, we are told, satisfaction and purpose aren’t found in lasting relationships with a man but “within.” This quasi-spirituality is reminiscent of ancient gnostic heresy: instead of being shaped relationally, our true selves are supposedly accessible only through secret interior knowledge. The approved method of self-discovery is therefore isolation. Only by removing external influences can one know what is authentically “theirs.” Movies regularly reenact this fantasy in the trope of the young woman who sets off to “find herself.” Tellingly, the journey almost always requires leaving home, community, husband or boyfriend, and even country. The farther she travels from what once “confined” her, the easier it is to “discover” who she really is. The Degradation of Dependence Our culture’s emphasis on self-sufficiency makes voluntary dependence look degrading. I saw this recently in a conversation with a friend. We were discussing a woman who started dating immediately after a breakup when my friend sighed, “Some women just can’t be alone.” The judgment in her tone was hard to miss. Women who stake their identity and fulfillment on a relationship with a man are dismissed as inferior and weak at best, or traitors at worst. Ironically, my friend can’t even live by her own standard. As a divorced woman declaring “independence,” she still relies on wine-tasting weekends with friends, travel, and a gym community for a sense of meaning. She may be single, but she isn’t alone. Her life illustrates a simple fact: no one is fully complete in themselves. Women who stake their identity and fulfillment on a relationship with a man are dismissed as inferior and weak at best, or traitors at worst. Despite its impracticality, the myth of the independent woman lives on. Many who champion it in theory quietly contradict it in practice. The “ girl’s girl ” may mock traditional women for depending on men, yet she still builds her identity and self-worth around relationships, only primarily with other women. She concedes the need for community while defending a narrower version of independence. But that version is indefensible. We are dependent on men from the cradle to the grave. The Inconvenient Truth That dependence begins before we are born. My existence as a woman is contingent on the contribution of a biological male: my father. Despite the deepest wishes of some, we have not mastered asexual reproduction. Feminists may chant that the “future is female,” but our past is necessarily male and female. But fathers aren’t merely sperm donors. Their influence on children is irreplaceable. Because fathers parent differently than mothers, they contribute something distinctive to children’s development. Ironically, research suggests that part of this contribution is the cultivation of independence. In other words, the myth of independence depends on qualities often formed and modeled by men, even as it urges women to live without them. The myth of independence depends on qualities often formed and modeled by men, even as it urges women to live without them. The importance of fathers points to a broader truth about human relationships: complementarity. We often assume the strongest partnerships are built on sameness, which is why we look for friends and romantic partners who share our interests and habits. But some of the most profound relationships are built through distinct yet complementary differences. In encountering someone who is in some ways fundamentally different than me, what is uniquely mine comes into sharper focus. We need others to understand ourselves. A mother’s desire to nurse is incoherent without a suckling infant. A father’s desire to protect presupposes a vulnerable child who needs it. The distinctive qualities of men and women lose their potency when considered in isolation. A recent TikTok trend puts this on display. Women post edits of boyfriends or husbands with the caption, “He brought my pink back.” Dating or marrying a man made these women feel more feminine and beautiful—a sentiment I understand. They describe becoming softer, wearing more dresses, and welcoming a man’s leadership. They are surprised by how protected, honored, and loved it makes them feel. Proximity to a man contrasts with and complements their femininity, clarifying it the way salt draws out flavor in food. The Bond That Has No Substitute Language is often insufficient to capture the mystery of the male–female dance. Even when it can’t be fully articulated, it can be observed, attested to, and, most importantly, experienced. While it shows up in many contexts, one form stands out as uniquely profound: marriage. The value of the relationship between husband and wife cannot be overstated. It is the foundation of the family unit, which in turn is a foundation of social order. But it is also a comfort that uniquely satisfies our longing for community. Alternatives can be sought, but no real substitute can be found. While larger communities—such as churches and friend groups—are defined by a “more the merrier” inclusivity, exclusivity is essential to marriage. The Western tradition has long named this reality “one flesh.” The girl’s girl may have genuine relationships, but she is missing a special one: the self-giving love between one man and one woman for a lifetime. No number of Napa Valley wine trips can compare to the bond forged by a relationship that forsakes all others. I rejected the myth of independence once I got married. At the altar, my husband and I relinquished any illusion of self-sufficiency. As the old saying goes, we had to “leave” our families and “cleave” to one another. This cleaving is why marriage is called a union. The persistence of that language suggests we know marriage unifies more than bank accounts. Marriage is about two becoming one. A former professor of mine, Dr. Victor Shepherd, has an apt way of describing it. Some compare marital union to two slabs of wood superglued together. But no matter how strong the glue, the pieces remain external to one another; they never interpenetrate. Marriage is better compared to a tree graft. A graft occurs when two living organisms are opened to one another, immersed in one another, and changed forever. Two trees grafted together rely on one set of roots. The fusion creates mutual dependence, yet it is experienced differently by each tree: one must be grafted into the other. Likewise in marriage, a wife is grafted into her husband. She becomes dependent upon him in a way that differs from his dependence upon her. He lifts her up by protecting, providing for, and loving her. She receives that love and, in turn, builds and sustains a beautiful home and family. At the altar, my husband and I relinquished any illusion of self-sufficiency. Assuming the roots of another is daunting. But without vulnerability, the graft could never take place. Before the graft, each tree must be slashed open to reveal its innermost substance. Vulnerability is the condition of any union worthy of the name “one flesh.” Critics of marriage for women often point to this as a reason to avoid it. Depending on a man’s roots is a risky bargain if he leaves her after she has spent years out of the workforce raising children. Notably, marriage has also become a riskier bargain for men than for women. Roughly 70% of divorces are filed by women. The widespread availability of no-fault divorce has created incentives to file, especially when judges tend to favor women in settlements, particularly in custody determinations. Today, many divorces are filed for transient reasons such as “growing apart.” Marriage entails risk, but in the current legal and cultural environment, that risk is often disproportionately borne by men. Some anxieties are exacerbated by bad policy, but others are inherent to marriage itself. Like most worthy pursuits, marriage involves risk. Exposure to risk is vulnerability, and vulnerability is a necessary condition for a true union. Marriages don’t endure by sentiment but by self-renouncing faithfulness. This faith isn’t mathematical certainty, but it isn’t irrational either. It is grounded in trust. My anxiety about the future is soothed by the assurance that, despite all things, my husband and I can cling to one another. And the alternative—being on one’s own—is hardly free from worry. It’s often worse. I was 21 when I got married. My husband and I heard plenty of comments that we were naïve because our brains weren’t (and still aren’t) fully developed. But those critics were thinking of marriage as the linking of two separate individuals rather than the transformation of two into one. They weren’t thinking about it like a tree graft. If they were, they might see our youth as a reason to marry: our minds can develop together . An essential component of marriage is being transformed by the other, and this is often easier at 21 than at 31. For these reasons, I happily call myself a male-centered woman. Others should join me in embracing the title. We should reject the myth of the independent woman in favor of something far greater than the pursuit of independence: love.