My daughter was a feminist before I was.
She would talk to me about patriarchy, about the way systems are built, about men and power and space. And I would listen and nod and quietly think: it’s not that bad. I thought I was a feminist. I just didn’t see what she was seeing.
Then I started to pay attention.
Why Women Take Up Less Space Than Men
Women are taught to take up less space than men, on the sidewalk, in meetings, in rooms. It’s not politeness. It’s a habit of shrinking that starts small and spreads into everything else.
It started with driving.
I began noticing the difference between how I drive and how the men around me drive. I am cautious. I am considerate. I let people in. I slow down. I am constantly aware of the other drivers and what they need from me. The men around me are not driving that way. They are not inconsiderate exactly, but they are not afraid. They take their place on the road as if it belongs to them, because somewhere inside them, they believe it does.
I started watching the sidewalk next.
I walk with my husband sometimes, and he just walks. He moves through space as if he is meant to be there, because he has never questioned whether he is. He walks with a confidence he never had to learn, because no one ever taught him not to have it. When people come toward us on the sidewalk, he moves over. He is courteous. But he does not shrink. He does not scrunch his shoulders to make himself narrower. He does not flatten himself against a building to make sure there is enough room for everyone to pass.
I do all of those things. I have done them my whole life without even noticing.
Once I noticed, I could not stop noticing. I started watching myself in every space I entered. At the grocery store. At the bank. At networking events I started attending last year. I would walk in wearing something colorful, something with a bold print, something that announced me before I said a word, and then I would immediately find the corner. I would stand at the edge of the room and watch the women I wanted to talk to and tell myself I would go over in a minute. I would wait until I felt ready. I would wait and wait and never quite feel ready enough.
Even in the clothes that were designed to be seen, I was hiding.
You Are Not Responsible for Other People’s Comfort
Here is what I have come to understand about that.
The people who have opinions about how much space you take up, on the sidewalk, in the room, on the road, are not living your life. They do not know your purpose. They do not know what you were built for, what you carry, what you have survived, what you are capable of. Their comfort with your smallness is not your responsibility.
And the people who are not looking at you, which is most of them, because they are too busy worrying about themselves, are not going to notice if you take up a little more space. They are not keeping score. There is no penalty for walking down the sidewalk like you belong there.
Because you do.
You Are the CEO of Your Own Life
This year I decided to stop waiting until I felt ready.
I started walking into rooms and crossing them. I stopped finding the corner and started finding the people I actually wanted to meet. I started walking up to powerful people, people who run companies, people who lead organizations, and introducing myself as if I am also in charge.
Because I am. I have my own business. I built it. I run it. I am the CEO of Beth Smith Couture, and I have forty years of expertise that I bring to every single client I work with. I’m a fit specialist in Howell, Michigan, and I’ve spent forty years learning how clothes change how a woman carries herself.
It took me a long time to say that without flinching.
But here is what I want you to hear: you are the CEO of something too. Your family. Your career. Your community. The thing you are building, the dream you have been carrying, the calling that has been waiting for you to stop hiding long enough to answer it. You are in charge of that. You are important. You have a purpose and a reason for being here.
And the room needs you to stop standing in the corner.
I am not all the way there yet. Most days I am still working on it. But six months of deciding to take up space has brought more people into my life, more relationships, more opportunities than the previous five years of waiting in corners ever did.
The sidewalk is wide enough for all of us.
Walk down the middle of it.
If this resonates, I made something for you. It is called Stop Making Yourself Smaller: A Guide for Women Who Are Ready. You can get it here.
— Beth