Female Guilt Is a Full-Time Job
It keeps you small, tired, and apologetic
Listen to the audio version here 🎧 💌
This week, I was summoned to my grandmother’s home with my fiancé.
She’s been unwell, and the family wanted me to introduce him, just in case she doesn’t make it through. It was a heavy, two-day visit that demanded presence and tenderness.
And yet, in between prayers and chai, I felt something sick rising in my chest saying,
🎯 I hadn’t checked LinkedIn.
🎯 I hadn’t posted.
🎯 I hadn’t responded to comments.
And the guilt that it came with?
Was Loud. Hot. Unreasonable.
Yet very real.
It got so bad that I was unable to tolerate it. So, I turned to my fiancé and said, almost embarrassed, “Can you tell me it’s okay? That it’s okay I’m not looking at LinkedIn today?”
He looked at me, deadpan serious, and said:
“LinkedIn should be the last thing on your mind right now. There is a lot going on. Let’s focus here.”
That moment stayed with me.
Because that’s how vile, sneaky, and persistent guilt is in a woman’s life.
🎯 It doesn't care if you're grieving, caregiving, bleeding, or breaking.
🎯 It shows up with its clipboard and asks if you’ve earned your rest.
Think about this for a moment, a UK study said,
95% of women report feeling guilty at least once in the past 24 hours.
That means almost every woman you pass is silently apologising for something you can’t even see.
Women feel guilty for:
Your discomfort as well as their own discomfort
Not working hard enough
Working too hard
Not being present with family
Not being social enough
Saying no
Saying yes and then feeling resentful
Having a voice
Not using it loud enough
We feel guilty for simply existing and for our own pain.
This isn’t just personal. It’s systemic. Generational.
It’s what happens when you’ve been told your entire life that your goodness is directly tied to how much you please others.
That if someone is unhappy, it’s your job to fix it.
That if something is wrong, it must be your fault.
That if you take space, someone else must be shrinking because of it.
Guilt has become a control strategy for us.
If I broke it, I can fix it.
If I caused it, I can make it okay.
If I hurt them, I’ll make myself small to keep the peace.
Though guilt feels productive, like you’re being morally responsible.
In truth, it keeps you stuck.
Looping in shame.
Fixated on what's "wrong" with you.
And paralysed from doing anything that actually helps.
Guilt doesn’t make you better. It just makes you smaller.
You say no less.
You take fewer risks.
You ask for less than you deserve.
You apologise before you even speak.
You shrink yourself to stay likable, and slowly trade your life for someone else’s comfort.
So I want you to leave this place with this reminder,
Do the thing without apologising.
Rest without earning it.
Speak without cushioning it.
Ask without shrinking it.
And for once,
let the world adjust to you.
Not the other way around.
Listen,
You’re allowed to pause.
You’re allowed to go offline without guilt.
You’re allowed to care for things no algorithm can see.
And most of all,
You do not have to earn your right to live life to your fullest.
You were always worthy of it.
A simple exercise for the week:
When you feel guilt rise with you, pause and ask:
🔹 What am I trying to control here?
🔹 What am I afraid will happen if I stop feeling guilty?
🔹 What would I do if I believed I’m still good, even if I let go?
Let the answers surprise you.
Let them free you.
Because the version of you that is not ruled by guilt?
She’s who you were meant to be all along.
Before I end this, I want to share one guilt I’m actively letting go of, right now, as I hit publish.
I’m not in the headspace to write today.
I don’t have the energy to finesse this piece, to sculpt it into something sharper or more profound.
And yes, a part of me feels guilty for letting you down.
Still, today, I’m choosing to rise above it. This newsletter came together in one hour. And it is my best effort for today.
And that, my friend, is enough.
See you same time next week.
Until then, keep showing up for yourself with kindness and remember…