What if some of the words your inner critic speaks didn’t begin with you?
Some of my inner critic’s words feel older than me.
Our families exist within a larger society and culture, with many standards of what is right and wrong, good and bad. The expectations and way of viewing men and women have been very different in this, and so we receive different messages.
Our inner critics are sweet parts within us, formed to protect us. Often they repeat to us things they learned as a child, having internalised messages from our families. Having evaluated what brings us safety, love, and acceptance, and what does not.
I believe that these differing messages create in women and men, inner critics that differ in some ways.
And as a woman myself, I find it very interesting and important to place myself historically, to see what I am inheriting, what I am born into, what beliefs, thoughts, and self-expectations are not mine.
Because the truth is, for centuries, women have lived in cultures that repeatedly told them to:
be quiet
be small
to follow
to be good
pure
clean
obey
Living in a modern world, with things vastly different right now, many of us, definitely me, can forget this. But as I have been meeting my inner critic I see that some of the words it says, the beliefs it holds, go so deep.
It feels almost as if they go beyond me.
Fears and worries that don’t quite feel like mine.
As I have tried to make sense of this, I keep coming back to the same place. My mother. My grandmother. The women before them.
They lived in Sri Lanka, a society where women definitely had less voice, less of an equal place, had to serve their men, had to be good, be small.
The undertones of this history live on in my childhood; they lived in my mother, though she did it differently. It flows in my blood. A sort of generational passing on, that requires some conscious work to transform.
The messages women inherit
Although patriarchal societies differ across cultures, religions, and time periods, many have communicated similar messages to women: be smaller, be quieter, be agreeable, be pure, don’t take up too much space, don’t challenge authority.
Much of this was reinforced by religious stories, cultural narratives, and social structures that presented women’s smallness as natural, even necessary.
For example, in many Christian traditions, Eve was portrayed as being the one who brought sin to humanity, thus resulting in women also having to pay the price of this for the rest of the future of humanity. They say we are born in sin, and this seems to have fallen more heavily on women.
Across many societies, women could not vote, could not own property, could not lead. They were legally dependent on their fathers or husbands.
This is centuries of being told: your place is small. And small was the only thing that was tolerated and accepted.
Growing up in Sri Lanka, I experienced this firsthand.
There were different rules and expectations, and women were definitely always quicker to be judged.
Girls having boyfriends were judged much differently from boys in relationships.
Sons were often given more freedom to go out, stay out late, and explore. But there were more restrictions on daughters, more judgment.
A daughter would much more easily disturb the family’s reputation and could face shame for the very same behaviour that was accepted in boys.
Personally, I was in relationships young, and often judged for it, slut shamed at times, made to feel dirty somehow. Dirty for having sexuality, for wanting connection – for being a young human growing up.
The feeling of scrutinizing eyes constantly on me. Yet boys doing the same did not receive this.
And this was my experience in this century, when things had already eased and become less strict. I can only imagine how it must have been for my mother, and for my grandmother and the women before.
My mother carries this constant worry that every decision she makes might be the wrong one.
It can show up as a panic, as if the world might end. I can see her inner critic so clearly in that, the fear of getting it wrong because of the consequences it once brought. The punishments. The shame.
Throughout history, women who stepped out of the boundaries of what was considered acceptable were often punished severely.
Perhaps one of the most striking and shocking examples of this is the tens of thousands of women who were killed in Europe in the Witch trials.
Between 1450 and 1750, roughly 40,000 to 50,000 people were executed for witchcraft in Europe, around 75% of them women. Many of these women were those who did not fit into the standard of what a woman should be. Those who were unconventional, different, expressive.
This set a clear message. Going beyond the expectations could have devastating consequences; it could cost you your life.
I feel it is good to acknowledge this.
This is where we are coming from.
And while we must anchor in the present moment and build from here, we are beings that are deeply conditioned, formed from our environments and histories.
With awareness, we can transform.
What this changed for me
Reading about all of this history and connecting these dots softens something inside of me.
When I imagine what it must have been to be a woman in many of these times and situations, I feel deeply suffocated. I can feel the boxes that women were placed in and had to stay within in order to be accepted.
This somehow brought some rest to my own experience with my inner critic and trying to navigate it. It was like:
Well, of course I feel this way.
Of course, it’s sometimes scary to be myself.
Of course, I’m scared to do things wrong, to disappoint.
Of course, I’m scared that if I do something wrong, I might be rejected.
Of course, I can sometimes worry if there is something I should do better.
Given the history I inherit as a woman, of course.
Our inner critics are often internalisations of what we heard from the world around us. The messages we received about how we had to show up in order to be loved and accepted.
It is the memory of the pain that came with the consequences of getting it wrong sometimes – the rejection, the shame.
It’s the voice, the part of us, that tries to protect us from this. That tries to make sure we stay safe and loved.
Meeting the inner critic differently
Let’s not ignore our inner critics; let’s not fight them for existing and making our lives harder.
Let’s not push them away, through escaping and distracting ourselves.
The way forward is to acknowledge them and move towards them.
To acknowledge that they were probably formed in our childhood and experiences, where we simply wanted to be loved. And that it tries to protect us from things that might cause us to lose love.
Let’s acknowledge that we are women in this world that has not always been good to women. A world in which there was a lot of restriction, control, harshness, and dismissal.
To acknowledge this cultural, historical position that has also contributed to its being born.
And let’s make sure we don’t repeat this kind of harsh treatment with our own inner critics.
Because that’s often how it can go. We can feel so frustrated at our inner critics for showing up and making life harder, from preventing us from doing what we want, so we fight them and criticize them back.
Through this, we reinforce them, because it is from harshness that they were born in the first place.
Let’s acknowledge ourselves as women, coming from women who had it much harder than us. Who may not always have felt their freedom.
Seeing that we are part of a new movement, new generations of women who are safe to have louder voices, to be themselves, to express themselves, to take space.
So when our critics show up, let’s try to be curious and explore:
“Whose voice is this? Is it mine, my culture’s, or my ancestors’?”
“What is this part trying to protect me from right now?”
“What is not true anymore?”
“Can I show this part of me that things are different now, I am here, we are safe and it’s okay?”
How can we show up for our inner critics with curiosity and kindness? Reassuring these parts that things are different now, that we are safe.
We can be the unconditionally accepting parent that we once needed.
This is revolutionary. Meeting our critics with awareness. Consciously working to be kinder.
Because the more this part of us relaxes and softens, the more we are able to go out into the world as ourselves. Do the things we wish to do. Be the person we are.
The less we live in fear of getting it wrong, the freer we become, the more relaxation we feel.
And this is how we honour and heal for the women before us. And it’s the biggest gift we can give our daughters of the future.
