Why women are often their worst critics: Understanding internalised misogyny

BY ELIZABETH CHISOROM CHUKWU

Gender dynamics, societal expectations, and deeply entrenched cultural narratives have created an environment where women, more often than not, become complicit in their oppression. The concept of internalised misogyny, though uncomfortable to confront, reveals itself in countless ways, from mothers who harbour resentment toward their daughters to the everyday behaviours of women who inadvertently perpetuate patriarchal ideals. These dynamics are not born in a vacuum.

Instead, they are cultivated within the fertile grounds of culture, religion, and a society that rewards alignment with male dominance while punishing female solidarity.

It is common to encounter women who vehemently oppose feminist ideals, aligning themselves with a worldview that upholds the structures designed to limit them. This alignment often appears baffling at first glance—why would anyone work against their liberation? However, the answer lies in the harsh reality that being “on the woman’s side” often yields little tangible reward. In contrast, aligning oneself with men, consciously or unconsciously, can provide material, social, and psychological benefits. The societal framework ensures that siding with male-centric power structures offers more immediate advantages than challenging them ever could.

Take the instance of a Nigerian woman sharing her story on social media about waking up at 4am to cook for her husband. This narrative sparked an outpouring of support, gifts, and praise—not just from men but women also. The validation she received shows an important point: adherence to traditional gender roles is rewarded. To expect her, or others like her, to embrace feminism, which might involve questioning those roles, would seem almost ironic given the lack of external incentives. The broader social message is clear: conform to expectations, and you will be celebrated.

Resist them, and you risk ostracisation or worse.

Whether economic, social, or political, women have historically faced limited access to opportunities. In many societies, power structures remain overwhelmingly male-dominated. This imbalance creates a competitive environment where women are often pitted against one another for the attention and approval of men, who are seen as gatekeepers to those opportunities.

A mother and her daughter might unconsciously vie for the father’s approval, and female colleagues might perceive each other as rivals for a coveted promotion that a male superior controls. Even in friendships, women may compete for social relevance, often measured by proximity to male authority or desirability in the male gaze.

This competition centred around men creates a culture where women may feel justified in tearing each other down rather than building each other up. If a woman’s advancement depends on her ability to please or align with men, other women naturally become obstacles rather than allies. The broader implications of this dynamic are not simple. It creates a self-sustaining cycle where women perpetuate the systems that oppress them, often without realising it.

Religious and cultural narratives often exacerbate these dynamics. In many traditions, women are taught from a young age to prioritise their roles as wives, mothers, and caretakers above all else. They are conditioned to see other women not as equals but as threats to their ability to fulfil these roles. Such conditioning is not easily undone. It seeps into the psyche, shaping how women perceive themselves and others.

It encourages self-loathing, not because women inherently dislike themselves but because they are taught to measure their worth against impossible standards. They are expected to be everything to everyone while receiving little in return.

The interplay between these forces becomes even more insidious when one considers the societal consequences of challenging the status quo. Women who dare to advocate for their rights or the rights of others are often met with resistance—not only from men but from other women who see such challenges as a threat to their hard-earned sense of security within the system. Feminism, with its promise of collective liberation, can feel like a risk too great to take, especially for those who rely on traditional structures for survival or validation.

At its core, this phenomenon reflects a tragic irony. The systems that perpetuate misogyny rely on the people they oppress to uphold them. Women, conditioned to seek approval in a male-dominated, often reinforce the structures they might otherwise dismantle if given the chance. The competition among women is not a natural state of being but rather a symptom of a world that has constructed scarcity around power and opportunity for women.

If we wish to address these issues, we must first acknowledge the psychological toll of living in such a system. Women’s internalised misogyny is not an inherent flaw but a survival mechanism born of centuries of cultural conditioning. It is the result of a world that pits women against each other while rewarding compliance and punishing dissent. It is not enough to tell women to support one another without addressing the underlying structures that create competition in the first place.

The path forward requires both systemic change and individual introspection. Women must be given the tools to recognise how they have been conditioned to view themselves and others through a lens of misogyny. At the same time, society must dismantle the systems that make this conditioning necessary. It is only then that we can hope to create a world where women do not feel compelled to hate themselves or each other to survive.

Elizabeth Chukwu is a corps member at Nigeria’s Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution, Abuja. She writes via [email protected]