When the Universe Tells You to Smash the Patriarchy

This past weekend was a monumental leap forward for women and a big wake-up call for me.

We all know what the leap forward is. The first black and Asian-American woman will soon hold one of the highest offices in the United States government - the vice presidency. This is a historic moment for women in the United States, and a cause for celebration.

The wake-up call? Let me explain.

When I heard about the results of the 2020 election, I was attending an event called The Thriving Experience, a three-day-long event hosted by Dr. Valerie Rein, Ph.D., the author of the book Patriarchy Stress Disorder: the Invisible Inner Barrier to Women's Happiness and Fulfillment. I had heard Dr. Valerie speak in an interview several months before. Intrigued by what she had to say, I had signed up to participate in her weekend event.  

In this interview, Dr. Valerie talked about Patriarchal Stress Disorder (PSD), a condition that stems from the trauma of patriarchy. She defines trauma like this:

"Trauma is any experience that made you feel unsafe in your fullest authentic expression and led to developing trauma adaptations to keep you safe."

It's PSD, she claimed, that denies women from living to their fullest potential. Patriarchal constructs affect us in such a deep and subconscious way, imprinted on us from centuries of oppression, that most of us are unaware of their damaging effects. Women are not even aware that we dim our light in order to fit within the patriarchal rules.

When the news of the election results finally came on Saturday morning, the second day of Dr. Valerie's event, I was listening to her talk about how patriarchy has denied women the full expression and ownership of our bodies. Contemplating the effects of patriarchy on a physical level was truly eye-opening. Women had been thought of as property throughout world history, and even now, our bodies and our reproductive rights are being regulated across the US. We also went deeper and talked about how both shame and praise equally affected our perceptions of how we should be or act. It was a deep day of reflection on the many ways in which patriarchy affects us subconsciously.

After the talk was over, my friend texted that she and her daughter were going to the park to celebrate the election results. I jumped at the opportunity to celebrate this historic and monumental day with these beautiful women. My daughter Ella and I hopped into my Honda CR-V, and I drove us to Alberta Park, a few miles from our home. We took NE Killingsworth Street, a two-way street to the south of the park. When we were six blocks from the park, I began hearing the revving of cars engines, baritone and loud, and of sounds of tires skidding on the pavement.

As I got closer to the intersection, the sounds grew louder and traffic began to back up. I could see smoky exhaust rising into the air. I didn't know what was going on ahead, though it sounded like cars doing donuts in the street. Passing through this intersection now felt dangerous. I turned on my left-hand signal to make a turn into a side street to avoid the upcoming intersection. I checked for oncoming traffic and then I made my turn.

That's when I heard the shrill of tires and the loud crash, feeling a jolt as another car hit the side of my car. A red sports car had come from behind, driving east on the westbound lane around the traffic piling behind me, and had smashed into my front driver side door and tire. I turned around and asked Ella if she was alright. She said she was okay. My head throbbed. I felt the left side of my head where I had hit the inside of the door jam and found a large bump. I looked out the window and saw the red sports car pull into an apartment complex driveway. I put on my mask and went to talk to the driver.

A man, a young guy in his late 20s, approached me, and then started to lay into me, "Didn't you hear me honk? I was honking. I was honking that I was passing."  I was completely flabbergasted. The man illegally drove on the wrong side to get around the traffic and here he was blaming me for making a legal turn? After explaining how he shouldn't be driving recklessly, I told him that we needed to exchange information. I went back into my car to check on Ella, and then pulled out my phone and my wallet with my insurance card. When got out of the car, I saw the red car drive away quickly, the deafening sounds of his exhaust puttering into the distance. I was so shocked that I didn't even think to take a photo of his license plate until he had turned at the next street.  

I didn't know what to do. I was shaking. My heart was racing. The revving engine and skidding tire noises a block away were a surreal soundtrack to my spinning thoughts. A man, whose name I later learned was Austin, came over and insisted that I call the police right away. I called 911 while Austin and another bystander assessed the damage to the car to see if it was drivable. The car was not safe to drive home.

The operator placed me on hold after I gave her the details of the accident. When she returned to the line, she told me that a police officer would not be able to come to the scene because the police were told to stay away from the activity a block away. Instead, I would be getting a call from an officer later that day. I felt dismayed that the police would not be investigating this crime or the activity on the next block.

Austin handed me a piece of paper with his name and phone number. He said that he had seen everything and would serve as my witness. I gratefully accepted his contact information, and later called him to corroborate some of the events before I filed a police report.

After Austin left, I called my partner Andy to come to get us, and then called my girlfriend to tell her what had happened. My daughter started crying because now, we were not going to the park and she would not be able to see her friend. I felt shitty. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t. I felt too numb. I counted down the minutes until my partner arrived, listening to the cacophony of car sounds near us, terrified by the sounds.

As I waited for Andy, I thought about another event that happened back in 1999, when I was living in New York City and commuting to New Jersey. I was driving up the West Side Highway to go to work, and as I headed northbound, two motorcycles cut in front of me. I honked my horn. Then from behind me, I watched as a gang of motorcycles swarmed around me, flanking me on both sides and at the back. I started to panic as I felt their roaring presence around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the exit to 125th street, so I started towards the exit, the motorcycles tightly surrounding my car like the casing around a bullet.

I started to drive across 125th Street, and then, all of a sudden, the motorcyclists in front of me decided to stop. I was trapped, surrounded by men in black leather jackets on howling motorcycles, their faces obscured by sunglasses or helmets. I feared for my life. I searched in my purse and pulled out my cell phone, something I had only recently purchased a few weeks before. I held up my phone to the man who was sitting on his motorcycle to my left, signaling that I would now be calling the police.

I remember the look the man gave me and the index finger he waved at me, a warning that I had better watch myself. Before an operator answered my 911 call, the idling motorcycles revved to life, and they began to drive away. Relieved, I hung up the phone. Watching them disappear into the distance, I took a few breaths before I drove back to the West Side Highway, feeling dazed and confused by what had just happened.

Sitting on the side of the road in my wounded Honda CRV, I realized that I was supposed to leave for a weeklong stay at a writer's retreat in two days. Now I would have to figure out how to get there. I certainly had to skip tomorrow's seminar with Dr. Valerie so that I could nurse my head. Ella sat quietly in the backseat still sad about her missed playdate. All of this felt heavy.

Andy finally arrived, with a friend visiting us from Seattle, and I sighed with relief. They checked out the nearby commotion, where cars were in fact doing donuts in the intersection. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but I needed to call the insurance company and arrange for a tow truck. I made these calls while trying to tune out the noises on the street.

When I got home, I realized that I had to take care of myself and my body. Hadn't we just talked about how women needed to care for and own their bodies? I spoke to a nurse at my medical practice who gave me instructions on how to monitor for signs of a concussion: take Tylenol, use ice packs, and wake up every two hours. I was definitely not going to Dr. Valerie's talk the next day.

I set my alarm for every two hours and in the middle of one of my half dreamy states, I realized that the car crash illuminated a pattern in my life. A man tried to blame and shame me, and then abandoned me. This is a lingering childhood fear that I know has affected me throughout my life. Have I been holding back from truly living my dreams because of this fear? The Universe was trying to tell me that I needed to look at these patterns of patriarchy that were shouting to be heard.

Perhaps you are reading this and saying, Lisa, don't you think you are reading too much into this? Maybe you got into that car accident because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time? Maybe the guy was frightened and uninsured and had no other choice but to run away. Yes, and yes. Both of those statements could also be true.

But, when an event triggers deep emotions, realizations, or insights, I tend to look at those moments as ‘wake up calls’ from the Universe. Whenever I find myself reacting to a situation, whether it's feeling my blood boiling with anger or my body filling with shame, I know there is something deeper underlying the event. Something clearly needed my attention.

I am a firm believer in that the idea that the Universe will constantly send you messages, and it will be freakin’ loud if you need to have it knocked into your head, literally and figuratively. This was the Universe telling me loud and clear that I need to explore the damage that the system of patriarchy has inflicted on me and find a different way to live, consciously creating my destiny, rather than being constrained by it. 

Patriarchy is the root of so much of women's feelings of inadequacy and lack of confidence. It's because we have been conditioned, not just through our culture, but through the history that proceeds us, that we are not enough. We have such a narrow runway of experiences in which we are permitted to live. We have to be strong, but not too strong. We have to caretake but be damned if we want to take care of ourselves. We have to be pretty, but not too pretty. We have to be the ideal weight, not too thin or too heavy. We have to be feminine and sexy, but not too sexy, or else we will be 'asking for it.'

When I think about how patriarchy has taken grip of my life, I only have to recall the incident with those motorcycles, being intimidated by a gang of menacing men. It is an appropriate metaphor for how women have been constrained by this system of oppression called patriarchy.

I am not shaming or blaming men for the patriarchy. I think about Andy and Austin who helped me cope with the aftermath of the accident. Of course, there are men who want to do the right thing. But, most men in this society have been conditioned to uphold the tenants of patriarchy, a system that also harms them. Men's inability to show emotions and deeply connect with others has also taken its toll on men. It is a system that is so pervasive and subconscious, that not many people have transcended its grip, gender-conforming and non-confirming alike. We have not been shown that a more conscious way of living is possible.

I did end up going to the final day of The Thriving Experience, albeit I listened to the seminar more than I participated in it. At the start of that day, when I shared the story of my hit and run incident, I received responses of support from the other women in the event. They validated my emotions and helped me realize that I was not going it alone.

The next day, after getting checked out by the doctor and getting the green light to travel, I went to pick up my rental car so that I could drive to my writer's retreat, where I am right now writing this piece. When I got to the rental counter, the woman told me that she didn't have any SUVs and asked if I was okay with an alternative. Assuming that I would be given an economy car anyway, I told her that I would take anything that was available.

After we signed the paperwork, she took me to a massive white Chevy Suburban. I shook my head no. I didn't want to drive such a large truck. Then she took me to a black Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Sport. I had always wanted a Jeep Wrangler when I was in high school, but this Jeep was a massive, tank-like truck, not the adventurous, cute Jeep that I had my eye on as a teenager. As I looked at the big, masculine car, my mind said, "Do you really want to drive that car?" It looked menacing and powerful.

She dangled the car keys in front of me. "I didn't think you'd want that other one, so I brought out the keys to this one."

I thought to myself, "I don't know if I can drive that car. Maybe I should ask for an economy car?" 

"You're gonna love this car," she said as she handed me the keys. "Trust me. You won't want to return it when you bring it back."

There was no arguing with this woman. Clearly, I was meant to be driving this car. So, I took the car keys and climbed into the car. It was high off the ground like Andy's Silverado Truck, but it was much more luxurious and high-tech inside. I could handle this car.

As I drove to my writer's retreat at the beach, I was skittish on the road. Every time a car rolled into my periphery at an intersection, my heart jumped. But after getting a feel for the road, I started to feel a bit more comfortable in the car. I even started to enjoy the car and its power.

I turned on the radio and found an oldies station. I turned up the volume and sang at the top of my lungs to the tunes I grew up with: Air Supply, Belinda Carlisle, and Asia. I was profoundly aware of how silly this must have looked: an Asian woman, singing loudly to soft rock in a black military-style car. I didn't care. I relished in the absurdity of it all.

Then Starship came on and I turned it up. As I belted out the words, "We built this city on rock and roll," I started to cry. I'm not sure why it was those lyrics that brought me to tears. Maybe it's because I could envision a world that was built on creativity and self-expression, in other words, a world based on divine, feminine energy, rather than a world built on patriarchy.

Women have suffered deep consequences - physically, emotionally, and economically - from systematic patriarchy. My only wish in telling this story to you is for you to contemplate the times when you have felt silenced, dismissed, threatened, shamed, or blamed by patriarchy. I have a goose egg on my head, a proverbial ‘knock in the head’ to tell me that this system of patriarchy is keeping me from living a truly fulfilling life. I only ask that you investigate what it has done to you.

Dr. Valerie says that it's possible to create a world in which women don't just survive, but they thrive. Her work came to me exactly at the right time, as I am contemplating how I want to help more women create thriving businesses and creative lives.

The Universe must be telling me something.

Get quiet and listen. What is it telling you?

Written at Sou’Wester Lodge on Long Beach, Washington

Thumbnail photo by Chloe S. on Unsplash