The Duality of Woman

There I was, four hours into a “scenic” road trip through the Great Rift Valley. What was meant to be a smooth cruise to Naivasha had turned into a four-hour test of patience involving slow-moving lorries and the inevitable. I’d cracked my “Passenger Princess” soju a bit too early, the traffic was at a standstill near Maai Mahiu, and there wasn’t a clean petrol station in sight. As I eyed the acacia trees and wondered if I could hover over a patch of grass without being spotted by a passing matatu, the thought hit me: Ugh, I hate being a woman.

But once the panic subsided and we finally found a spot with actual plumbing, I had to ask myself – do I actually? Or is “hating it” just the conversational shorthand we use to vent about the sheer biological and social audacity of the female experience? When you really strip away the dusty boots and the traffic jams, the “pro/con” list of womanhood is a wild ride.

Let’s be honest, there are parts of being a woman that feel like a cosmic prank.

The biological “miracles.” We call it the beauty of life, but let’s talk about the physical toll. Between the intensity of bringing a literal human into the world and the clinical irony of having foreign objects medically fitted to prevent said humans, the plumbing is incredibly high-maintenance.

The 25% rule. Roughly a quarter of the earth’s population is bleeding at any given time while still expected to act like everything is normal. I’m constantly in awe that we manage board meetings, workouts, and daily life while our bodies are essentially staging a small coup every month.

The subscription fees. It is statistically and literally expensive to be a woman. Between the “pink tax,” where products marketed to women cost more, and the endless cycle of maintenance (hair, nails, skincare), our bank accounts are under constant siege.

The calculated walk. There’s that universal flutter when you see a man turn a corner onto an empty street. You quicken your pace, but subtly. Fast enough to create distance, calm enough not to look panicked. It’s a quiet mental routine many women perform at 3:00 PM and 3:00 AM alike.