The Rules No One Ever Said Out Loud

Nobody ever handed us a rulebook for becoming a woman.

Somehow, though, we still learned one.

In this episode of Just Breathe Confessionals, I'm reflecting on the invisible lessons so many of us pick up without ever realizing it—from carrying an emergency alarm and texting when we get home, to apologizing before we speak, smiling so other people feel comfortable, and wondering who decided these were the rules in the first place.

Along the way, I talk about Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret., Pleasantville, growing up, body image, safety, and the quiet expectations that shape us long before we know they're there.

Because maybe growing up isn't about following the script we've been handed.

Maybe it's about realizing we're allowed to rewrite it.

Welcome to Just Breathe Confessionals.

Transcript

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Safety Habits That Feel Normal

SPEAKER_01 0:10

I have one of those little emergency alarms on my keychain.

SPEAKER_00 0:15

The kind that screams if you pull the pin. I hope I never have to use it. But whenever I'm walking to my car at night, it's already in my hand before I even leave the building.

SPEAKER_01 0:29

I text people when I get home. I park under lights when I can. I check my back seat before I even get in. I don't take flyers off my windshield if it's dark. None of those things feel unusual to me anymore. They just feel normal. And lately I've been wondering, when did I learn all of that? Because I can't remember anyone ever sitting me down and teaching me those things. Nobody handed me a book called How to Be a Woman. Nobody gave me a checklist. Nobody ever said, here's everything you'll need to know.

SPEAKER_00 1:15

And yet, somehow, I learned. It's one of the strangest parts about becoming a woman.

SPEAKER_01 1:24

Nobody hands you the rule book. You just wake up one day and you realize you've been living by one. I don't think I learned it from one person. I learned it the same way we learned so many things. Little by little, watching, listening, paying attention. Hearing another woman say, Text me when you get home. Seeing another story on the news, having conversations with friends. Before long, those things stop feeling like lessons. They simply become part of how you move through the world.

Puberty And Being Seen Differently

SPEAKER_01 2:03

When I was younger, I remember reading, Are you there, God, it's me, Margaret? Everything in that book felt like it was about waiting, waiting for your first bra, waiting for your period, waiting for your body to change. Like those were the milestones. Like once they happened, you'd finally understand what it meant to become a woman. That's what so many of us believed, that womanhood started with our bodies. Nobody told us that it also came with a thousand invisible expectations. Then puberty happened fast, almost overnight. Suddenly I wasn't wearing sports bras anymore. My body changed before I felt like I had. And it was strange because I still felt like the same kid. I still laughed at the same jokes. I still felt like me. Nothing about who I was had changed overnight, but my body had. And almost overnight, it felt like people started noticing my body before they noticed me. It's a really strange thing to experience as a teenage girl. One day you're just existing, and the next your body becomes something other people have opinions about. They tell you your body is going to change. They don't always tell you what it feels like when the world changes with it. That's when I started realizing there were expectations that had nothing to do with who I was as a person. They had everything to do with how I looked. I learned I should save my legs, I should know how to do my makeup, I should smell good, I should know how to dress for my body, I should somehow look effortless while putting effort into every little detail. Nobody ever sat me down and made that list. It just became a part of that background noise. So much so that I don't even remember learning it.

Beauty Rules And The Tattoo Test

SPEAKER_01 4:07

I remember wanting a tattoo on my thigh, and someone told me, don't put it there. It will make you look like a hoe. Guys will look at you differently. I remember thinking, why? What does the placement of a tattoo suddenly say something about my character? Where was that in the rule book? Who decided that? I got the tattoo anyways. Not because I was trying to prove a point, but because it was one of the first times I stopped and asked myself, do I actually believe this? Or am I just repeating a rule someone else handed to me? But that wasn't the only rule I had inherited.

The Policing Of Women’s Behavior

SPEAKER_01 4:52

It wasn't just my appearance that came with expectations. It was my behavior too. I slowly realized that being a woman wasn't just about how I looked. It was also about how I was expected to make other people feel. Smile, be nice, don't be rude, don't be too loud, don't be too emotional, don't come across as difficult, be confident, but not intimidating. Speak up, but don't make anyone uncomfortable. It's funny because no one ever sits you down and says those words, and yet so many of us recognize them. I've lost count of how many times I've heard the phrase resting bitch face. Think about that for a second. We have an entire phrase for woman simply having a neutral expression. Why? Why does a woman's neutral face need a name at all? If I'm not smiling, why is the assumption that something must be wrong? Or that I'm rude, or that I'm in a mood? I've smiled at complete strangers just because it felt expected. I've apologized before asking a question. I've softened my opinion before I even finished saying it. I've worried about making someone else comfortable, even when I was the one who felt uncomfortable. I've caught myself trying to keep the peace before asking myself what I actually needed. Not because anyone ever told me I had to, but because those expectations quietly became part of how I moved through the world. There are all these things we do, not because someone formerly taught us, because we picked them up little by little, like little notes slipped into our pockets, tiny reminders about how we're supposed to move through the world. Some of those notes have helped me, some of them have protected me, some of them I'm not so sure I needed to keep caring. Eventually, you stop asking, how do I become a woman? You start asking, who decided these were the rules in the first place?

Pleasantville And Choosing Your Life

SPEAKER_01 7:18

There's a movie called Pleasantville. If you've never seen it, I really recommend it. On the surface, it's about a perfect little 1950s town where everything is black and white. Everything is neat, everything is predictable, everyone knows exactly who they're supposed to be. Until people begin questioning the lives they've always accepted. They discover love, art, books, curiosity. They begin making choices because they want to, not because it's what they've always been told to do. And as that happens, something beautiful starts to happen. The people begin turning to color. I've always loved that metaphor. Because maybe that's what growing up really feels like. Not becoming someone completely different, becoming fully yourself. Color doesn't appear because the characters become perfect, it appears because they become authentic. Every time I watch that movie, I don't just see a town changing. I see what happens when people stop asking, what am I supposed to do? And start asking what feels true to me. Maybe that's what adulthood gives us. Not all the answers, just permission to question the script we've been handed, to keep the parts that protect us and rewrite the parts that taught us to disappear.

Keep What Protects You

SPEAKER_01 8:50

I'll probably always carry that little emergency alarm on my keychain. I'll probably always text someone when I get home. Those little things help me feel safe. They're reminders that I deserve to make it home. But the lessons that told me to make myself smaller, to apologize before speaking, to smile so everyone else feels comfortable, or to let someone else decide what my choices said about my character, those are the ones I'm learning to leave behind. Some of those rules taught me how to stay safe.

SPEAKER_00 9:26

Some of the rules taught me to disappear.

SPEAKER_01 9:29

It took me years to realize those weren't the same thing. Nobody ever handed me a rule book, and yet somehow I still learned one. But maybe becoming a woman was never about following it perfectly. Maybe it's realizing I was allowed to pick up the pen. To cross things out, to write in the margins, to keep the parts that felt true, and rewrite the parts that never did.

SPEAKER_00 10:01

I didn't write the rules. Neither did you. Until next time, just breathe.