When you hear the word ‘confrontational’, what do you think of? For me, it was always associated with pushiness, strength and a ballsy attitude. I feared and admired ‘confrontational’ people, in equal measures. Yet, I put myself firmly in the non-confrontational camp. That is, until recently.

Like anything, confrontation exists on a scale – I’m sure a lot of people in my life might dub me as confrontational, given that I’ll readily jump into a political debate or tell a catcalling man to go fuck himself, but the thought of sitting down with a friend or family member and telling them that my feelings were hurt by their actions or drawing a boundary with an employer, plagued me with anxiety.

I’d avoid confrontation at all costs, letting situations escalate without saying anything. I’d be rich if I had a pound for every time someone said, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

This experience is one many women may find familiar, so intertwined are our coping mechanisms with the patriarchy we’ve grown up in. For example, the UN Women’s research found that almost one in four adolescent girls aged 15–19 (24%) have experienced physical and/or sexual violence from an intimate partner or husband. Another study found that 36% of female students in mixed-sex schools say they have personally been treated differently on account of their gender, compared to 15% of male students. Messaging tells us, from a young age, that to be good we must be polite. But politeness can also mean obedience and silence. While boys are encouraged to speak up, girls are told nobody likes a bossypants. It’s no wonder, then, that finding the vocabulary to confront people feels unnatural.

My fears around being confrontational were about how I would be perceived. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure I would call a man ‘confrontational’. It’s a word reserved for women, often said with a negative tone – a woman asking to be treated better or speaking up for herself is aggressive. A man doing the same? That’s just standard practice. If anything, it’s seen as admirable. That, obviously, is my internalised misogyny speaking. As with most examples of internalised misogyny, it’s glaringly obvious once you spell it out. And once noted, it’s hard to ignore.

“Learning to be confrontational helped me to undo my internalised misogyny”