Trigger warning: cutting
By now, most feminists are aware of the importance of intersectionality. But unlike race, gender, sexuality, and so on, disability is rarely thought to be a social issue, and even less often is mental illness.
I understand. As a culture, we are taught to ignore, fear, and mock mental illness. Even those with mental illness are taught this.
Hello, by the way. I am a 23-year-old woman with chronic depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and panic disorder. I take meds. I can’t donate eggs. And I’m here to uncover the hidden misogyny in the stigma on mental illness.
While it is true that the dominant culture dehumanizes mentally ill people of all genders, there is a specific kind of oppression reserved for women, whether they are mentally ill or not. Essentially, patriarchy uses mental illness as a tool to control all women.
Think about it. Women are far more likely than men to be accused of being “crazy” (a slur thrown around today’s casual conversations that only further stigmatizes mental illness). Because the gender construct paints women as emotionally weak and prone to hysterical outbursts, we are called “crazy” anytime we express ourselves in an assertive, confrontational, or altogether non-submissive way.
When women are called crazy, the dominant culture is telling us that our thoughts and feelings are not legitimate, or “normal.” This tactic is called “gaslighting,” and it is one way that patriarchy assumes power over us.
As a woman with mental illness, I’ve found that gaslighting is immensely confusing and dangerous. For example, I used to date a guy who was emotionally manipulative, and used my mental illness as a means to control me. Once when I admitted to him that I had been cutting, he wheeled into a frenzy of overdramatic concern. He threatened to tell my family all I had confided in him. He started frequently showing up at my work to “keep an eye” on me. He harassed me over text and Facebook messenger, telling me I was sick, urging me to “get help.” Once he physically blocked my exit from his apartment.
While I understand that cutting is not to be taken lightly, my ex’s actions were inappropriate because he used my mental illness as a reason to assume control over me. He did not help me work through my feelings. He decided that he had the right to police me, and claimed that it was for my own good.
That relationship didn’t last very long (thank Buddha), but the psychological ramifications resulting from our relationship are with me still. After all, I was once predisposed to accept when my ex called me “crazy” and claimed authority over my wellbeing. As woman, I am encouraged to surrender my autonomy to the men in my life. The culture has primed me so. It has primed us all.
This issue is bigger than my relationship with my ex. Had he never existed, I would still sometimes feel the shame that accompanies living with mental illness in a society that is so averse to it. The internalized sense that you are incapable of caring for yourself stays with you long after you recognize its falsehood. Even having arrived at a place where I am comfortable with myself and my mental illness, I am still subjected to daily reminders that society does not accept me like I accept myself.
The perpetual need to reassure myself that I am not a waste of space is exhausting.
The solution to the stigma (and the misogyny therein) is, in my mind, to be open about mental illness. Bring it into the sphere of daily life. Make it seem mundane. It is mundane. Taking my pills every night is just part of my pre-bed routine. Basically, let the culture know that mental illness is not a big, spooky monster that feeds off a person’s right to autonomy.
But the battle begins with us—with destroying the misogyny we’ve internalized. One of the most revolutionary acts I have ever done was to “come out” to the people I know as a mentally ill woman. Now that I have done so, I am freed. And the freedom is not from mental illness, but within mental illness. Even though I have depression and two anxiety disorders, I am still capable of making decisions about my life. I choose my own path to wellness.
If that isn’t radical, I don’t know what is.
