Growing Up as an Ambitious Woman in a Silent Patriarchal Society在无声的男权社会中，成长为有野心的女人

如果用三个词来形容现在的自己，我会说：独立、自信、有野心。

但其实，我并不是从一开始就这么笃定地相信自己。

我的家庭不是特别传统的重男轻女家庭，但因为父亲经常出差，且母亲是焦虑型人格，我的童年并不算幸福，更多时候是在母亲的情绪和我们频繁的争吵中度过的。

父亲身上有着很强的大男子主义特质，并且至今认为很多女人就是天生不如男人理性。但他又是我最好的朋友，他一直坚定相信我可以成功，并且很有天分，他的相信让我的天赋没有被埋藏。

说回小时候，男权结构对我的影响，并不是以“暴力”或“极端不公平”的方式出现，而是潜移默化、理所当然地存在着。小时候的我，其实是被这种男权社会“自然地塑造”着，却毫无察觉。

因为我是独生女，家庭内部并没有非常明显的“重男轻女”事件发生。也正因为如此，我曾经一度以为，性别不平等离我的生活很远。直到我慢慢长大，我才意识到，真正的束缚并不总是来自家庭的显性压迫，而是来自社会结构和我自己被内化的认知。

我天生是一个渴望成为领导者的人。但因为潜移默化的规训一直没意识到。所以每次处于社交场合我都很别扭，既不能心甘情愿地退出舞台中心，又不相信自己有能力成为主角。知道半年前，我才非常清楚自己想站在中心、想做决策者、想掌控人生方向。

回想以前的很多场合，男性总会“自动”成为那个被默认的领导者。更可怕的是，我的潜意识竟然也会“自动退后”，把舞台让出来。那种隐隐的不适感一直存在，我说不清原因，却始终觉得不对劲。

后来我才意识到，那其实是自我客体化在我身上的体现——我在不知不觉中，把自己的位置让渡给男性，不再期待自己的声音被听见，被重视。我把自己的可能性缩小成“可以被评价”的角色，而不是“可以掌权、可以主导、可以野心勃勃”的主体。

真正唤醒我女权意识的，是我的一位好朋友。她是一位相对激进的女权主义者。我们之间有过很多关于性别、权力、自我价值的讨论。她向我推荐了上野千鹤子的《厌女》，这本书对我产生了极大的冲击。我第一次如此清晰地意识到：从宏观的社会结构到微观的日常生活，从制度到关系，男权几乎无处不在。

那一刻，我不是愤怒更多，而是“清醒”。

我开始真正理解：我人生中那些说不清的不适、退让、犹疑、自我怀疑，并不是因为“我不够好”，而是因为我被放置在一个默认削弱女性主体性的结构里。而很多时候世界就是一个草台班子，在不断的不够完美 却愿意尝试中成长。女权让我真正确认主体性，自信地尝试人生的无限种可能。

同时，女权之于每个女人都不不同的。女权对我而言，不是一种口号，而是一种工具—一种让我彻底从男性物化的眼光中自由出来的工具。它让我免于性别剥削、充分发挥自己的才能。当我真正开始相信自己时，我才发现：我可以做任何事。

我有野心。

我是天生的领导者。

我可以成为美国的第一个女总统。

除此以外，我确认不能只说“我是一个人”，而回避“我是一个女人”这个事实。一个女人无论什么样子都始终是女人，没有例外。正是因为承认这一点，我们才更需要女权，为自己和所有女人争取空间、权力与尊严。

我的人生正在展开。我不想再缩小自己，不想再为任何结构让路。我选择带着野心、带着清醒、带着作为女性的身份，走向我真正想要的世界。

Best

初一

以上为未翻译版本

If I had to describe who I am today in three words, I would say: independent, confident, ambitious.

But the truth is, I didn’t always believe in myself so firmly.

My family isn’t the stereotypically traditional, son-favoring kind, but because my father was often away for work and my mother has an anxious personality, my childhood wasn’t particularly happy. Much of it was spent entangled in my mother’s emotions and our frequent arguments.

My father has a strong streak of macho masculinity and still believes that many women are simply less rational than men by nature. And yet, he is also my closest friend. He has always had unwavering faith in my ability and talent. His belief kept my gifts from being buried.

Looking back, the influence of patriarchy on my early years did not appear in violent or overtly unfair ways. Instead, it operated subtly, quietly, as if by default. As a little girl, I was being shaped by this patriarchal society “naturally,” without noticing a thing.

Because I am an only child, there were no obvious incidents of sons being favored over daughters. For a long time, I thought gender inequality had nothing to do with me. But as I grew older, I realized the real constraints don’t always come from explicit oppression within the family—they come from social structures and the beliefs I had already internalized.

I am, by nature, someone who wants to be a leader. But because of years of subtle conditioning, I didn’t recognize that. Whenever I was in a social setting, I felt awkward: I couldn’t willingly step off the center stage, yet I didn’t believe I had the ability to be the protagonist. It wasn’t until half a year ago that I became crystal clear about what I wanted—to stand at the center, to be the decision-maker, to take control of my own life.

Thinking back, in so many situations, men would “automatically” become the default leaders. What’s worse, my subconscious would also “automatically step back,” giving up the spotlight. There was always a faint discomfort I could never explain, only that something felt wrong.

It took me a long time to understand that this was self-objectification manifesting in me—without realizing it, I was yielding my place to men, no longer expecting my voice to be heard or valued. I had shrunk my own possibilities into a role that could be judged, rather than a subject who could hold power, take initiative, and be unapologetically ambitious.

What truly awakened my feminist consciousness was a close friend of mine, a relatively radical feminist. We have had countless conversations about gender, power, and self-worth. She recommended Chizuko Ueno’s Misogyny to me, a book that shook me deeply. For the first time, I saw with absolute clarity how patriarchy permeates everything—from macro-level structures to the most mundane aspects of daily life, from institutions to relationships.

In that moment, I didn’t feel anger as much as I felt lucidity.

I began to understand that all those moments of discomfort, retreat, hesitation, and self-doubt throughout my life were not because I “wasn’t good enough.” They were because I had been positioned within a structure designed to diminish women’s subjectivity. And often, the world is nothing but a ramshackle troupe—growing through imperfection, through the willingness to try. Feminism allowed me to reclaim my own subjecthood and confidently explore the limitless possibilities of my life.

And feminism is different for every woman. To me, it is not a slogan but a tool—a tool that frees me entirely from the male gaze and from objectification, a tool that protects me from gendered exploitation and allows my abilities to flourish. Once I truly started believing in myself, I realized: I can do anything.

I am ambitious.

I am a born leader.

I can become the first female president of the United States.

And beyond that, I know I cannot simply say “I am a person” while avoiding the fact that “I am a woman.” A woman is always a woman—there are no exceptions. And precisely because we acknowledge this, we need feminism even more: to carve out space, power, and dignity for ourselves and for all women.

My life is just beginning to unfold. I refuse to shrink myself. I refuse to yield to any structure. I choose to walk into the world I truly want—with ambition, with clarity, and with my identity as a woman.

Best,
Chu Yi

The version above has been translated and modified