My Inner Bitch

Last week a reread a book whose title caught my eye the very first time I saw it: “Getting in Touch with your Inner Bitch.” I bought it not because I needed to learn more about it -- I’ve always been called a bitch; even my cousin Benito once told me I was more bitchy than pretty, could it be true? -- but in order to find if I was missing out on something and as self-help.

The truth is, it reinforced my current stance, to a certain extent feminist, that emerged after years of abuse and male dominance within a traditional family structure where my mom educated me to be a good wife. I learned to cook, embroider, sow, iron, do the laundry and even make hand-made tortillas. She taught me everything that a woman must do “to please” her man. She even taught me the typical submission of an ideal woman. Thank God I didn’t learn that very well, and I was determined not to follow the axiom, “a woman doesn’t do that.”

Of course, it cost me exile and aversion on the part of my family. My grandmother would call me “tomboy” because I liked to climb trees, shoot a musket, play cards and go horseback riding. My aunts were scandalized by my rebellious and non-conforming behavior, and would practically make the sign of the cross when I arrived at their place. The fact is, for a number of years, I had been getting in touch with my inner bitch, the one mentioned in the book, one which we all carry deep within, but which many of us don’t allow to flourish for fear of rejection and isolation.

The book claims that “in every woman exists a holistic and powerful part of her that many times we prefer to ignore; it’s our inner bitch. She is strong, brave, calls things by their name, doesn’t allow herself to be pushed around and can come to deeply love someone without forgetting herself.” That’s the part that flourished in me during my youth. I stopped being docile and learned to defend myself and to say “no” instead of trying to please everyone at the price of my own dignity.Previously, I feared being a bitch because of the bad rap that women get when they don’t allow themselves to be pushed around and don’t care about the prejudice they suffer just for expressing their true feelings.

I knew being a bitch was wrong, because I learned from my parents and society that nobody likes a bitch, as opposed to the ideal woman who is both simple and submissive. And we, so as to not be branded as outcasts, submitted to the whims and fancies of everyone else. How many times have we bit our tongue in rage or impotence for not expressing how we feel, just so they won’t have a bad opinion of us? How many times have we accepted humiliating situations just to hold on to a relationship?How many times have we suppressed that inner cry for human dignity? How many times have we been ignored and smile instead of standing up for our rights? Until when will we continue feigning and justifying a behavior that is toxic, instead of being ourselves?

Of course being a bitch comes at a price. Many times it’s isolating, because men can’t tolerate a woman that is not complacent and who says her mind. Being a bitch means there will be backbiting and criticism from women who don’t allow themselves these liberties. But being a bitch also brings with it rewards. It means having a stomach free from knotting up every time you suppress your emotions. Being a bitch gives you that freedom to say what you want to and how you want to say it. By being a bitch you can talk about all kinds of needs. It gives you the guideline to reach your goals. Being a bitch is a challenge to old customs, but it’s also an appeal to life. It’s an admission that we have a life of our own. That we have our own worth.

Being a bitch gives you the right to say “I’m this way, what about it.” It’s the acceptance that our true worth lies in our heart and not in our body. Fortunately, the world is changing and being a bitch is becoming dignified and respectable. Would you dare be a bitch?