Menopause: A Reckoning
Say hello to your rage when gaslighting gets wrapped in good intentions.
I recently came across a viral post titled “Menopause: One Man’s Guide to Not Being a Complete C*nt.” It got a lot of traction. On the surface, it looks like a man finally “getting it.” He tells men to shut up, be useful, and acknowledge that their partners are going through hell.
But as I read it, I didn’t feel seen. I felt used. This piece wasn’t about us. It was about how he looks for “dealing” with us.
It’s scary for me to write this because people loved that post. But I’ve made a commitment to listen to my gut instead of the masses, and my gut said nope.
When I asked myself why, I realized I was reacting to the subtle gaslighting that messes with us on a subconscious level. This piece implies we are still the problem to be navigated and managed.
Can we start with the title?
”Menopause: One Man’s Guide to Not Being a Complete C*nt”
A trending term about midlife women gets put together with patriarchal vocabulary to describe “bad” behavior. Do we really want men supporting us who think it’s okay to use our own bodies as a slur to benefit their edgy writing?
This is such a pet peeve of mine I mention an experience I have with a man using that word as a descriptive in my upcoming book Joybellion - Transforming Midlife Insignificance into Freedom, Power, and Everyday Magic.
As someone who is a huge fan of swearing, I don’t believe in censoring people, but when you use that word, it tells me something about you and I proceed accordingly.
The post describes menopause as a “biological coup” where your:
“...sweet, loving partner transforms into a sleepless, rage-fueled enigma who might stab you for breathing too loud.”
This is how we are trained to silence ourselves. The idea that the “sweet and loving” version of us is the goal, and the “rage-fueled” version is a glitch, is a lie.
Here’s my truth: For decades, women are biologically and socially wired to be the shock absorbers of the world. Estrogen is the great “squelcher.” It helps us play nice, keep the peace, and suppress our own needs to ensure everyone else is fed, happy, and comfortable.
When those hormones recede, the “peace-maker” leaves the building. The rage isn’t “new.” It’s a backlog. It’s decades of suppressed feelings, ignored boundaries, and invisible labor finally bubbling to the surface because we no longer have the chemical incentive to stay quiet. He calls it an apocalypse, I call it a long-overdue accounting.
The author suggests the “sacred” secret to partnership is:
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Your only job here is to not be a f@cking twat... offer snacks.”
Is that really the goal? To just be a silent bystander who “treads lightly” and “backs away slowly”? Newsflash… Conflict avoidance is not partnership.
It reminds me of an experience I had in my mid twenties. After a traumatizing experience at a pro-life center, I went home where my dad was the only one around. I was distraught and he had no idea how to handle my raw emotions. So he did the only thing he knew. He suggested I sit down and “have a hamburger” with him.
In hindsight, it warms my heart. It was his clumsy way of saying “I’m here.” But the fact was my dad couldn’t hold space for me emotionally.
Offering food is low-hanging fruit. When the original post tells men to “just hide in another room” or “offer a snack,” it gives them permission to stay emotionally stunted.
Women have been the primary caregivers for centuries. When a partner is sick, or a parent is aging, we don’t “go for a long walk” until the weather is warmer. We dive in. We learn what the other person needs before they even ask.
We don’t need “low-hanging fruit.” We need the same level of emotional intelligence we’ve provided for everyone else for eons.
The author does acknowledge that women have spent decades “holding things together,” but he misses the why.
We didn’t do it because we are naturally more noble or tireless. We held it together as a survival mechanism. We were taught from day one that our safety, our value, and our belonging depended on our ability to maintain the status quo. We have spent years fearing our own destruction if we dared to stop performing the role the world assigned us.
He says,
“She’s stepping into a new version of herself, one that doesn’t have time for bullshit... Respect it.”
I appreciate the nod to our power, but then he undercuts it by saying:
“She’s saving that fucking ammo for just the right moment.”
No. It’s not “ammo.” It’s memory. It’s the clarity of finally seeing the “subtle” ways we’ve been gaslit and told we were overreacting when things felt “off.” We aren’t looking for a fight; we’re looking for the exit sign in the ‘go along to get along’ room. I’ve spent time in there, and frankly, the wallpaper is hideous.
I’m not saying he shouldn’t have written the post. It’s actually an important piece of writing because it shows just how deep the roots go. Even when a man tries to acknowledge our journey, he can’t help but frame it from the perspective of the status quo.
Menopause is Mother Nature giving us the opportunity for a biological jailbreak. The estrogen dip gifts us the clarity to see exactly who we are and what we want.
We’ve paid our debt to the human race. Popped out babies, cared for others.
This is a rite of passage. It is the birth of the Crone. We are becoming the wise women who no longer have time for nonsense as we are initiated into serving the greater good.
It is the same thing that happens with Orcas; the grandmothers become the leaders who hold the memory and the map for the entire pod. We shift into a perspective that impacts the world because we are the ones who finally hold the wisdom for what best serves it.
Learning to see our anger as a messenger is an important part of our menopause transformation.
When we stop viewing our rage as a symptom to be suppressed, we can start using it as a guide. It’s the voice that finally tells us to speak up when our doctor isn’t listening to us. It’s the energy that helps us stop letting our kids—or our partner—run all over us. It means that when our rage bubbles up, we don’t immediately follow it with an apology. We recognize it as a signal that something in our life needs to change.
I’m hosting a mini-workshop called Holy Rage that celebrates your anger and helps you use it as fuel for the life you want to live. It’s going to be fun and freeing.
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