When the “Sisterhood” Fails: Internalised Misogyny and the Bullying of Single Mothers
We often hear about the power of female solidarity— the so-called “sisterhood” that is supposed to support and protect women. But as any woman who has ever stepped outside the traditional societal script knows, there is a darker side to this narrative. Sometimes, the harshest judges, the quietest executioners, and the loudest bullies a woman faces are other women.
This phenomenon is rooted in internalised misogyny: a systemic conditioning where women subconsciously adopt and enforce patriarchal biases against their own peers. Nowhere is this more evident than in the subtle, ongoing scrutiny and isolation faced by single mothers who choose independence over toxic conformity.
The Myth of “A good woman’s skirt hides everything”
This is a popular principle people live by where I live. A few years ago, when faced with the fact that my husband was cheating on me, I made a conscious choice. I asked my then-husband to move out of our family home, filed for divorce, and chose to rebuild my life with my daughter who was 3 at that time. It was an act of self-respect. Yet, the immediate reaction from parts of my surrounding environment wasn’t relief or support—it was discomfort.
I was met with the old, toxic narrative: “Why couldn’t you just shut up? You should have just swallowed your pride. You should have endured it for the sake of not raising a child alone. If a husband brings money home, does it really matter what he does on the side?”
When a woman leaves a toxic or unfaithful marriage, she inadvertently holds up a mirror to those who choose to stay and suffer in silence. To justify their own compromises, they must paint her independence as a mistake, a failure, or a threat. The pressure to endure at all costs is a tool used by women against women to ensure no one breaks free from the collective normalised misery.
Does a Woman’s Worth Depend On Whether She Has A Partner?
For financial reasons, I decided to downsize, and my daughter, three cats and our dog moved to a small house in family-oriented neighbourhood. During the moving process, my mother was my biggest ideological rival, calling me a nobody and a depraved single mother. After finally moving into our new home, the microaggressions took on a more passive-aggressive form, now coming from the neighbours. One of my neighbours, a local hairdresser who used to cut my hair, would ask me the exact same question during every single appointment:
“So, is there a new daddy yet?”
She wasn’t asking if I had found a partner, a companion, or love. She used the phrase “new daddy” because, in her worldview, a single mother cannot cope with life on her own and must be in search of a functional substitute at all times.
For a long time, I politely explained that my daughter already has a father who is involved in her life, even if he doesn’t live with us. But microaggressions thrive on politeness. It wasn’t until I finally set a crystal-clear boundary that stopped the cycle. I looked her in the eye and said:
“There is no new daddy. I have a father, so I don’t need a new one. My daughter has a father, so she doesn’t need a new one either. If you ever see a man at my house in the future, he will be my partner—not a new daddy.”
Shock immediately appeared on her face, and she couldn’t say a word. I said goodbye and left. We haven’t spoken since. And that is the price of a boundary: toxic people will always view your self-respect as an insult.
Shifting the Blame: The Offence of Being Present
When you do not conform to the expected neighbourhood dynamic—when you don’t drink, don’t throw parties, protect your professional confidentiality, and choose a quiet, private life—your silence becomes a canvas for other people’s projections. At a neighbourhood gathering, after refusing to violate a non-disclosure agreement regarding my work, a male neighbour – heavily drunk,unk at that point – wrapped his arm around my shoulder and said, “We have always known you were abnormal.” It became clear that my quiet existence had been the subject of gossip for months.
The situation escalated when a neighbouring household began hosting frequent, disruptive parties – 3-5 times a week, starting in the late afternoon hours until late at night – that made it impossible to sleep or work from home. I work long hours as a language teacher online to make ends meet. When I calmly addressed this with the neighbour’s wife, she launched into a screaming, hostile fit in the middle of the street. I chose to step away with my dignity intact, refusing to engage in the drama of shouting, while she continued to scream after me until I closed my front door.
The next day, the hairdresser neighbour asked what had happened. When I explained, her response was a masterclass in victim-blaming:
“Well, if you didn’t work from home, it wouldn’t bother you. If you weren’t home on the weekends—if you went away every Friday to Sunday—it wouldn’t bother you either. It’s your fault because you are always here.”
According to this logic, the problem wasn’t the disruption of peace; the problem was my presence. I was expected to vacate my own home every weekend so that others could misbehave without a witness.
The Psychology Behind the Silence
Eventually, neighbours overheard me discussing a potential legal complaint to the local authority regarding the noise with a friend of mine. The letter was never sent because the rumour was enough: the loud parties significantly decreased in frequency and volume.
The immediate aftermath? Complete social isolation. No one speaks to me now; they don’t even say ‘hi’.
From a psychological perspective, this type of shunning—the “silent treatment” from a community—is designed to punish the non-conformist. It is a desperate attempt to make the independent woman feel small, excluded, and corrected. However, when you look at it through the lens of conscious living, this isolation is actually a gift in disguise.
When toxic, judgmental people stop speaking to you, it isn’t a punishment; it’s the trash taking itself out. It creates a protective barrier around your peace. You no longer have to navigate the exhausting minefield of fake small talk, passive-aggressive remarks, or the pressure to perform for people who do not respect your boundaries.
Walking Away with Your Head Held High
Living consciously means realising that you do not need the approval of a crowd that requires you to shrink yourself to fit in. Choosing to live quietly, choosing to protect your child, and choosing to walk away from drama with your head held high is not a sign of defeat. It is the ultimate victory.
To every single mother out there who is being whispered about, scrutinised, or blamed for simply existing outside the patriarchal box: your peace is worth the isolation. Stand your ground, speak your truth quietly but firmly, and remember that a quiet, independent house filled with love, boundaries, and self-respect will always be a stronger fortress than a noisy neighbourhood built on judgment.
